Todd unfolded the old map he’d found buried beneath a log down by the creek, being careful not to tear the fading, yellowing parchment on which the map was drawn. He showed it to his brother, Tim, and looked around at the trees surrounding them. “I think we’re at the right spot,” he said.

“I think you’re taking us on a wild goose chase,” Tim said. “We’re not going to find any buried treasure here.”

“I feel it in my bones,” Todd countered. Looking up at a specific tree, he pointed at it. “That’s the tree shown on the map. The one with the gash in its curved trunk.” On the map, in a cryptic, old fashioned script, were the words, “At precisely three o’clock on the afternoon of the twenty third of August, follow the beam of light that will shine through the gash in the curved tree trunk.”

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