Hunter Moran Digs Deep Read Online Free Page B

Tinwitty’s treasure is my only hope to spring Zack from jail.
    I picture my private jet circling the prisoners’ exercise yard. No, wait, it’s a helicopter with one of those long strings hanging out. I’ll send Yulefski down on the string and she’ll pluck Zack up into the air, with his white beard and cane.
    I’ll even give her a diamond ring for her trouble.
    â€œA diamond ring,” Sarah breathes.
    I jump. Did I say that aloud?
    She gives me a rainbow smile. “I’m too young to get engaged,” she says. “Maybe next year.”
    Sheesh!
    I’m in such a state, she even manages to pull the book out of my arms, pages flying again.
    Footsteps bang down the hall. Diglio’s feet, probably size forty!
    I slide in behind a bush—no sense in having us both incarcerated—as he pulls Zack along by the ear.
    Ouch.
    They stop at the front door of the dentist’s office.
    â€œWhatever you Moran kids are up to now,” Diglio snarls, “I’m on to you. Tell that to your sneaky brother.”
    Sarah speaks up. “Hunter’s not so bad, Dr. Diglio. We’re almost engaged. He’s going to buy me a diamond ring.”
    Diglio looks at her as if she’s lost her mind.
    I do the same thing.
    Diglio gives Zack’s ear one final twist, swivels around, and marches inside, slamming the door behind him so hard the little glass window rattles.
    Zack is free.
    We begin to run, the three of us. We tear up Murdock Avenue, Zack and I yelling, “Yee-ha!” and Sarah screeching about treasure.
    We stop dead.
    Our treasure.
    Sarah keeps going, with the book under her arm. She heads for the town round and slides onto a bench in front of Tinwitty’s huge iron soup pot.
    Next to me, Zack whispers, “There’s no help for it, Hunter. We’ll have to cut her in on the big bucks.” He shakes his head. “Too bad. A three-way split.”
    Just as well, I think. Sarah is bent over the book, devouring it. She’s probably the fastest reader in all of Newfield, even beating out Sister Appolonia. I hate to admit it. She might even be smarter than me.
    Zack and me put together.
    We slide onto the bench, one on each side of her, to look over her shoulder.
    She reads aloud, telling us about Lester Tinwitty’s last look at Soup Bone, as the dog trots east with the pirate crew. Lester is in such a state that he gives up soup and takes up painting.
    Zack and I look at each other. That’s where William got it from. But never mind that. “What about the poem?” I ask Yulefski.
    She wrinkles her forehead. She stops reading and turns down the corner of the page.
    Mrs. Wu would have a fit.
    Yulefski flips through the book, pages whirring. She doesn’t bother to ask what we’re talking about. “Poem,” she mutters. “I thought I saw . . .”
    And there it is. She holds up the page and reads a few lines. “Lester writes a poem for his granddaughter, Josephina, someone to find the treasure for Soup Bone.”
    She looks up, then reads the poem:
TWO STEPS DOWN.
HEAR THE SOUND?
DIG AROUND.
UNDERGROUND.
    â€œIt’s under the school, I’m sure of it,” Yulefski says, running her hand over the book as if it’s actually Tinwitty’s treasure.
    â€œBut how do we get under the school?” Zack asks.
    â€œThat’s the problem,” Yulefski says.
    Wait a minute. Here come Mom and Pop, arm in arm, taking a walk. Pop home from work? Already?
    Zack reads my mind. “It’s Sunday,” he whispers. “Pop doesn’t work all day.”
    We have no time to think about treasure. Pop thinks we’re emptying the backyard of a thousand falling leaves.
    What to do?
    Where to go?
    In front of us is Tinwitty’s soup pot, up on a stand.
    Never mind. We dive in.
    It’s disgusting, filled with old leaves; a couple of ice cream cups float in a puddle of water. We sit there, feet