William's Happy Days by Richmal Crompton

Author:Richmal Crompton [Crompton, Richmal]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781509805280
Publisher: Pan Macmillan

‘It’s the map,’ said William, his voice still faint with excitement, ‘I bet it’s been in the bird’s nest for hundreds an’ hundreds of years. I bet it has. It looks old. Look at it. All yellow and old. I expect that the pirate what made it was caught by the police before he’d had time to give it to anyone, an’ so he jus’ threw it into the hedge when they were takin’ him off to prison an’ it’s been here ever since . . .’ He was examining it intently. ‘The cross is where the treasure is, of course. They always put a cross where the treasure is.’

‘But there’s hundreds of copper beeches an’ cedars in the world,’ said Douglas. ‘It would take us all our lives diggin’ between every copper beech an’ cedar in the world.’

‘Yes,’ said William eagerly, ‘but he’d prob’ly made the map for his mother or wife an’ they’d know which ones he meant, only of course he was caught an’ took to prison before he could give it to them, an’ threw it into this hedge an’ a bird found it. It was prob’ly a copper beech an’ a cedar jus’ near his house. Well, of course, he’d be sure to bury it near his own home, wun’t he? He’d nacherally do that, bury it near his own home.’

‘Yes,’ said Ginger, who was now almost as excited as William, ‘an’ his home mus’ be near here ’cause of finding the paper here.’

‘Yes,’ shouted William, and his face shone with sudden illumination, ‘there’s a copper beech an’ a cedar tree in Miss Peache’s garden. It’s the only place there’s both. He must’ve buried it in Miss Peache’s garden.’

‘Course he must,’ said Ginger, shrilly. ‘An’ I bet he lived at that little cottage opposite Miss Peache’s. I bet he did. I bet he jus’ slipped across at night an’ buried it in Miss Peache’s garden when he heard the police’d found out about him bein’ a pirate, an’ he’d got the map all ready to give to his mother or his wife or someone, an’ they caught him before he’d had time to give it her, an’ all he could do was to throw it into the hedge on the way to prison hopin’ she’d find it, an’ she didn’t, ’cause a bird got hold of it to make its nest an’ ’—he paused for a second to take breath and ended—‘anhereitis,’ all in one word.

‘I say . . . I votes we sleep in tents all night in the garden with the wild animals an’ have camp fires,’ said Henry, his thoughts returning to their future millionaire ménage.

‘Let’s have a room full of monkeys,’ said Douglas.

But William’s thoughts were intent on the present.

‘We’ve got to dig for it first,’ he said slowly, ‘we’ve got to find the ’xact spot an’ dig for it. I bet it’s not as easy as it looks. They never are. He must’ve put some catch in it, so’s if anyone who wasn’t his mother or wife found it they wun’t be able to get hold of the treasure.

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