The Treasure Hunt by Rebecca Martin Page B

onto the bushes. Sure enough, the water lapped at the bottom of Willie’s door. Joe sloshed it open. Water had spread across the floor,eddying around the legs of the table and chairs, but so far nothing had been damaged.
    â€œIf the water goes down soon, things should be okay,” Joe muttered as he pulled himself to the top of the bank again.
    Suddenly he thought of something. Where’s my gold pan? The last time I used it, about a week ago, I wedged it between the exposed roots of that one certain cottonwood partway up the bank.
    Joe walked along the creek until he reached the spot. He was pretty sure this was the spot because at the edge of the swirling water, he could see those gnarled roots. But he saw no rusty old pan. It must have been torn from its hiding place and carried downstream by the swift current.
    Joe turned his back and headed for home. “Good riddance,” he said under his breath.

18
    Set Free
    W ith the arrival of spring, new hope poured into the hearts of the farmers who had watched last year’s crops wilt away. Steam tractors were hired to break more land. They chugged around the neighborhood, spewing clouds of smoke and steam.
    â€œMay I go closer to watch Mr. Baumgartner, Mother?” Lydia asked on the day the tractor came to their farm.
    â€œYes, but stay out of his way,” Mother warned.
    â€œI will,” Lydia promised. “Here, Stormy!”
    The black dog scampered up to her, pushed his head under her hand, and begged to be petted. His coat was shiny now, and his ribs no longer showed.
    â€œLet’s go to the field,” Lydia told him. He bounced away ahead of her, always ready for a gopher hunt. That was what a walk in the fields meant to Stormy. Nothing was more fun than chasing gophers back into their burrows.
    While Lydia stood watching the big steam tractor turning over the soil, Stormy yapped at any gophers he saw. Suddenly his bark changed into a kind of puzzled yip-yip .
    Lydia hurried over to him. His nose was down to the ground. There in the grass, lay a quivering bundle of black and white feathers.
    â€œA bird!” Lydia scooped it up in her hands. She could feel the violent beating of a tiny heart. Something was wrong with one of the bird’s wings.
    â€œDid the tractor hurt your wing?” she murmured to the tiny creature. “I’ll take you home. As soon as your wing gets well, you can fly again.”
    Back at the house, Lydia told Mother, “I’ve found a bobolink.” How well she remembered the high, ecstatic trilling of the bobolinks above the fields of North Dakota!
    Mother peered into Lydia’s cupped hands. “Hmmm. It does look like a bobolink. It’s the first one I’ve seen in Colorado. How did you manage to catch it?”
    â€œOh, it can’t fly. I think the steam tractor must have hurt it. Can I keep it in the barn until its wing heals?”
    â€œI suppose so, but you’ll have to put it in a box, or Greasy the cat will eat your bobolink for supper.”
    â€œWhat? A bobolink?” asked Joe, coming in just then.
    â€œYes, a lame one. I’m going to help it get well,” Lydia told him. “His name is Bobby.”
    Joe grinned. “First Stormy, then Bobby. You’re gathering quite a menagerie.”
    â€œWhat’s a man-ash-ry?” Lydia asked.
    â€œOh, it’s a collection of animals. Pretty soon we’ll have a zoo on our farm.”
    Undaunted by her brother’s teasing, Lydia set to work making Bobby comfortable. She used a wooden packing box to make a cage. Across the opening she tacked a piece of screen that was left over from building the screen door. She gave Bobby some hay to sit on and some grain to eat.
    At supper time, when Mr. Baumgartner was eating with the Yoder family, Mother mentioned the bobolink to Father. Mr. Baumgartner spoke up. “I doubt if it’s a bobolink. You don’t see those around here.”
    â€œSo