The Secret of Smith’s Hill

Chapter 4: Triple Trouble

The story so far: Clementine, the workman Sam’s dog, is unusually interested in the cellar hole, although she seems afraid of the old horseshoe she dug up.

“Clemmie, no!” Kelly shouted, chasing after the dog, who was digging near the cellar hole again.

Sam broke away from a cluster of men standing by the cement truck. “Bad dog!” he shouted as he ran.

Kelly grabbed Clemmie’s dragging leash, pulling her away from the hole. “I’m sorry,” she gasped.

“It’s okay.” Sam took the leash from Kelly. “But she’s going to have to stay in my truck now.” He took the dog away.

“Darn,” Kelly said under her breath. Then she saw that James was digging in Clemmie’s hole with his hands. “What are you DOING?” she shouted. “You want to make Sam even madder?”

“I want to see what Clementine’s after,” James said stubbornly, digging deeper.

But then Dad, who’d been standing near the cement truck with the men, came up to them both. “James, for heaven’s sake, fill in that hole,” he said. “And then please come over to the cement truck, both of you. We seem to have an odd problem.” He walked away again.

“The least you could do,” James said grumpily to Kelly, “is help.”

“Come on, James, it’s not that big of a hole,” she said, but she helped anyway. “Find anything?” she whispered.

“No,” he whispered back. “But I didn’t get very far.”

“Maybe we can dig it up again later,” Kelly said.

James looked grateful. “I’d rather dig than think about what might have been a break-in,” he said. “I just keep thinking what if it was someone from that gang?”

Kelly gave him a long, sympathetic look. “I really don’t think it could be,” she said. “How could they have followed us? Besides, you wouldn’t be any use to them out here. Come on, stop worrying! Let’s go see what Dad wants.”

They walked over to the cement truck. Dad pointed to its tires. Every one of them was flat. James suddenly turned pale and Kelly knew he was thinking of the gang again.

“Kids,” Dad said, “have you seen anyone around this truck today? Anyone we don’t know?”

“No,” said Kelly, and James shook his head.

Sam looked at the driver. “You tell them,” he said.

“I brought the truck here while the guys were at lunch,” he said. “And I thought I heard someone in the woods. So I parked it and went to look. And when I got back, the tires were flat. They aren’t just flat, either. They’ve been punctured.”

“Did you see anyone in the woods?” James asked anxiously.

“Not a soul,” the driver said. “Anyway, we can’t move the truck over to the forms till we get new tires and put them on.”

“Maybe,” James said tensely to Dad, “if someone broke into the house and made the crashes, they messed up the tires, too.”

“I don’t think anyone broke in,” Dad said. “But someone sure got to the truck.”

“It’ll take time to replace the tires, Mr. Claver,” Sam said. “And by then, the cement will probably have hardened. I’m afraid we’ll probably lose another day.”

Dad looked grim. “I’d hoped to have the foundation poured today,” he said.

“We’ll get it done, Mr. Claver,” Sam said. “If need be, we’ll have a new truck here first thing in the morning.”

***

“You’ll never guess what I just found,” Mom said, bursting into the kitchen where the twins were helping Dad do the supper dishes. “I was putting sheets away in the linen closet and I found this.” She held up a brownish piece of paper with spidery writing on it.

Kelly looked over Mom’s shoulder. “...from the shore last night,” she read aloud, “and carried off our beasts, so...” She hesitated at a badly smudged and faded word. “Feather?” James suggested. “No, I think it’s Father,” Dad said, peering closely at the paper. “...so Father cannot plough.”

Then there were more smudged letters and words except for a letter that looked like a J and a word that looked like militia. Close to the bottom of the page, though, the writing got clearer.

“...little stored food,” Kelly read aloud. “that has not been stolen by–by...”

“It looks like Johnny something,” said James. “Bill?”

“No,” Mom said. “Bull. Oh, my! Johnny Bull.” She sat down at the kitchen table and looked at Dad. “That’s what the American Patriots called the English in the American Revolution. I think I’ve just found part of a Revolutionary War diary!”