Riptide

'Johnny?' Malin cried, feeling a surge of panic, reaching out to grasp his brother's arm. 'What about the curse?'

'Come on, there's no curse,' whispered Johnny scornfully. There was another scratching sound and the match flared. 'Don't worry. I got at least forty matches in here. And look—' He dug into his pocket, then turned toward Malin, a big paper clip held between his fingers. He stuck the lit match into one end. 'How about that? No more burned fingers.'

The tunnel took a gentle turn to the left, and Malin noticed that the reassuring crescent of light from the tunnel entrance was gone. 'Maybe we should go back and get a flashlight,' he said.

Suddenly, he heard a hideous sound, a hollow groan that seemed to erupt from the heart of the island and fill the narrow chamber. 'Johnny!' he cried, clutching his brother again. The sound sputtered away into a deep sigh as another trickle of dirt fell from the timbers overhead.

Johnny shrugged his arm away. 'Jeez, Malin. It's just the tide turning. It always makes that noise in the Water Pit. Keep your voice down, I said.'

'How do you know that?' Malin asked.

'Everybody knows that.'

There was another moan and a gurgle, followed by a loud creaking of timbers that slowly died away. Malin bit his lip to keep it from trembling.

A few matches later, the tunnel turned at a shallow angle and began sloping downward more steeply, its walls shorter and rougher.

Johnny held his match toward the passage. 'This is it,' he said. 'The treasure chamber would be at the bottom.'

'I don't know,' Malin said. 'Maybe we'd better go back and get Dad.'

'Are you kidding?' Johnny hissed. 'Dad hates this place. We'll tell Dad after we get the treasure.'

He lit another match, then ducked his head into the narrow tunnel. Malin could see that this passage wasn't more than four feet high. Cracked boulders supported the wormy timbers of the roof. The smell of mold was even stronger here, mingled with seaweed and a hint of something worse.

'We're gonna have to crawl,' Johnny muttered, his voice momentarily uncertain. He paused, and for a hopeful instant Malin thought they were turning back. Then Johnny straightened one end of the paperclip and stuck it between his teeth. The wavering shadows thrown by the match gave his face a ghoulish, hollow look.

That did it. 'I'm not going any farther,' Malin announced.

'Good,' said Johnny. 'You can stay here in the dark.'

'No!' Malin sobbed loudly. 'Dad's gonna kill us. Johnny, please...'

'When Dad finds out how rich we are, he'll be too happy to be mad. He'll save a whole two dollars a week on allowance.'

Malin sniffed a little and wiped his nose.

Johnny turned in the narrow space and placed a hand on Malin's head. 'Hey,' he whispered, his voice gentle. 'If we chicken out now, we may never get a second chance. So be a pal, okay, Mal?' He ruffled Malin's hair.

'Okay.' Malin sniffed.

He got onto his hands and knees and followed Johnny down the sloping tunnel. Pebbles and grit from the tunnel floor dug into the palms of his hands. Johnny seemed to be lighting a whole lot of matches, and Malin had almost screwed up the courage to ask how many were left, when his older brother halted abruptly.

'There's something up ahead,' came the whispered voice.

Malin tried to see around his brother, but the tunnel was too narrow. 'What is it?'

'It's a door!' Johnny hissed suddenly. 'I swear, it's an old door!' The ceiling angled up to form a narrow vestibule ahead of him, and Malin craned desperately for a view. There it was: a row of thick planks, with two old metal hinges set into the frame of the tunnel. Large slabs of dressed stone formed the walls to either side. Damp and mold lay over everything. The edges of the door had been caulked with what looked like oakum.

'Look!' Johnny cried, pointing excitedly.

Lying across the front of the door was a fancy embossed seal made of wax and paper, stamped with a coat of arms. Even through the dust, Johnny could see that the seal was unbroken.

'A sealed door!' Johnny whispered, awestruck. 'Just like in the books!'

Malin stared as if in a dream, a dream somehow wonderful and terrifying at the same time. They really had found the treasure. And it had been his idea.

Johnny grasped the ancient iron handle and gave an exploratory tug. There was a sharp creak of protesting hinges. 'Hear that?' he panted. 'It's not locked. All we have to do is break this seal.' He turned and handed the matchbox to Malin, his eyes wide. 'You light the matches while I pull it open. And move back a little, willya?'

Malin peered into the box. 'There's only five left!' he cried in dismay.

'Just shut up and do it. We can get out in the dark, I swear we can.'

Malin lit a match, but his hands shook and it flickered out. Only four more, he thought as Johnny muttered impatiently. The next match sprang to life and Johnny placed both hands on the iron handle. 'Ready?' he hissed, bracing his feet against the earthen wall.

Malin opened his mouth to protest, but Johnny was already tugging at the door. The seal parted abruptly, and the door opened with a shriek that made Malin jump. A puff of foul air blew out the match. In the close darkness, Malin heard Johnny's sharp intake of breath. Then Johnny screamed 'Ouch!', except the