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around to half past three. Maybe a small cheese sandwich would tide her over till suppertime.
    Now she was going to worry about whether Osbert would wind up having to sit out there all night guarding the spring. Or had she better worry instead about whether Osbert was already digging up the gold and setting off a riot? First, the sandwich. She’d got Annie snuggled down and was cutting bread and cheese for herself when not one but two Mac Vicars knocked and came into the kitchen.
    “Officer Bob’s minding the desk,” said Margaret Mac Vicar. “I’m going to stay here with the twins while you take Donald out to Hunnikers’ Field and tell him what’s going on. Are they fed and changed?”
    “Yes, Osbert fed them. Rennie’s asleep and I just put Annie in her basket. Maybe you ought to go with the sergeant instead of me. We’ve never left the babies with anybody before.”
    Margaret MacVicar was an eminently sensible woman.
    “Dittany, I have raised three sons and babysat seven grandchildren.
    I know all about babies. I know nothing about this latest mess you’re dragging Donald into. Go.”

CHAPTER
1 here was so far no sign of
    a riot or even a melee in Hunnikers’ Field. Most of those who’d come to find hidden treasure were still digging in the wrong places. Only a few were standing around watching Osbert enlarge the hole that Pollicot James had begun and these were behaving themselves, partly because they were generally nice people and partly because Zilla was standing guard with her hatchet.
    Excitement was not altogether lacking, however. Water was seeping into the hole, enough to fill a teakettle, then enough to splash in, then enough to provide drinks for a team of thirsty mules. Surely this must be the spring where Hiram Jellyby had discovered the gold that had got him into such a pickle with the Akashic Record. Dittany could feel it in her bones.
    Which reminded her, nobody had dug up Hiram’s bones yet, although one diligent delver had found what appeared to be part of a buffalo skull and another had unearthed a tin pannikin that was long past any earthly use, unless Therese might have a spot for it in one of her artistic flower arrangements. But Osbert wasn’t finding anything except water. Maybe Dittany’s bones were playing her false. Maybe this wasn’t the place at all. Maybe this spring was just one of many. Her stomach was beginning to knot itself up again, the way it had a little while ago when she’d been waiting for the dowsing rod to dip.
    Then suddenly Osbert quit shoveling dirt from the waterhole and began feeling around gingerly with the tip of his borrowed spade. “I think I’ve hit something.”
    The words came out in a kind of prayerful whisper. He bent down and began scraping the dirt away a bit at a time until he could catch sight of whatever it was that the shovel had struck.
    It was a box, an old box from the look of it, covered in canvas that might once have been white but was now the color of mud. Not a particularly large box, perhaps about the size of a crate of canned peaches. Zilla kicked off her shoes, jumped down into the water hole, and began using her hatchet blade as a scraper to free the lid while Osbert worked to loosen the dirt around the other side.
    People were beginning to notice what was going on, to drop their picks and shovels and rush to the scene of the action, to be caught by Sergeant MacVicar’s basilisk eye and fall back meekly to a respectful distance. Zilla was flinging out the dirt in a steady stream, clearly itching to get her hands on the box. Once the top was free, she lost patience and tugged at the lid. It wouldn’t budge.
    “What’s got into the thing? It can’t be locked. Hir-“
    She caught herself just in time. “Here, Osbert, you try.”
    “Zilla, I’m not sure this is-” Osbert too made a quick recovery. “Whether this is locked or just stuck. Lend me your hatchet, will you?”
    Using the tail of his shirt, to Dittany’s chagrin,