Spider! Read online

  “I know, let’s look in the park,” Bertie suggested.

  “Why the park?” asked Eugene.

  “Why not? The Romans must have had parks,” Bertie argued.

  “Yes, but thousands of years ago it probably wasn’t a park,” Eugene pointed out. “It could have been the Roman baths!”

  “Even better,” said Bertie. “People are always leaving stuff at the baths.”

  “Hang on, though,” said Darren. “You can’t go digging up the park.”

  “Why not?” asked Bertie. “It’s only grass. Who’s going to care about a few little holes?”

  Speaking of holes, he noticed that the back lawn had quite a few. Small piles of earth lay heaped everywhere you looked. Mum wasn’t going to be too pleased about that. Maybe a trip to the park was a good idea!

  The park was busy with people. Whiffer had tagged along, despite Bertie ordering him to go home. He was now bounding around getting in everyone’s way. The treasure hunters looked around.

  “This is no good,” said Eugene. “We’ll never find anything with all these people.”

  “HEY YOU!”

  A man in uniform was marching towards them. Bertie groaned. Mr Monk lived on his street and was always complaining. Now he was a park-keeper he had a lot more to complain about, such as litter, dog poo and children enjoying themselves.

  “Is that your dog?” he demanded. “I’ve just seen him digging in the sandpit.”

  “Sorry, Mr Monk,” mumbled Bertie.

  The park-keeper folded his arms. “And what are you three up to?”

  “Nothing,” replied Bertie.

  Mr Monk pointed a finger. “Is that a metal detector?”

  “Um, yes … it’s my dad’s. We’re borrowing it,” admitted Eugene.

  “Humph,” said Mr Monk. “Well, you can’t use it here. Metal detectors aren’t allowed in the park.”

  “We’re not using it,” explained Bertie. “We’re just looking after it.”

  “Is that right?” frowned Mr Monk. “Well, you better behave. I’ve got my eye on you and don’t forget it.”

  He stomped off back to his weeding.

  “Maybe we should look somewhere else,” suggested Eugene.

  “I don’t see why,” said Bertie. “It’s our park as much as his.”

  “Yes, but you heard him, metal detectors aren’t allowed,” said Darren. “We can’t go digging up the grass.”

  “We’re not digging up anything,” said Bertie. “We’re just going for a little walk. Come on.”

  They walked on until they were out of sight. Bertie switched on the metal detector and it hummed into life.

  The park turned out to be the perfect place to find treasure – but only if you wanted bottle caps, ring pulls or drink cans. After an hour of poking around among the trees, Darren and Eugene had had enough.

  “Let’s go home,” moaned Darren. “We’re never going to find any gold.”

  “At least we found 2p, it’s better than nothing,” said Eugene.

  But Bertie wasn’t beaten yet. If someone had found Roman gold in a field why couldn’t they find it in the park?

  “One last try,” he begged. “We haven’t looked over there yet.”

  He pointed to a flower bed full of Mr Monk’s prize roses.

  “Bertie! We can’t!” said Eugene. “What if Mr Monk comes back?”

  Bertie looked around. “He’s not here,” he said. “He’s probably gone home for lunch. Anyway it’ll only take a minute!”

  They crept in among the rose bushes.

  “POOH! It stinks!” cried Darren, stepping in some compost.

  “Hurry up, Bertie, before he comes,” said Eugene.

  Bertie swept the metal detector over the earth. Nothing. He walked forward…

  BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!

  “I’ve got something!” he cried.

  The needle on the dial was going crazy. Bertie got down on his hands and knees, digging with the spade they’d brought. It didn’t take long before he found it – a single coin shining silver in the dirt.

  “Look!” cried Bertie, grabbing it. This was it – they’d struck gold – or silver at least.

  They crowded round to examine the coin. It looked old, although it was hard to tell because it was covered in dirt.

  “Let’s take it back to your house and clean it up,” suggested Eugene.

  Just then Whiffer came racing up and barked. Bertie looked round. Mr Monk was charging down the path like an angry bull.

  “OI! GET AWAY FROM MY ROSES!” he roared.

  “Uh-oh,” said Bertie. Faced with a hopping-mad Mr Monk there was only one thing to do – run for their lives.

  On Bertie’s road, they stopped to get their breath back. Mr Monk had chased them to the park gates but seemed to have given up.

  “That was terrible!” panted Eugene. “What if he tells our parents?”

  “Never mind that,” said Darren. “Have you still got the coin, Bertie?”

  Bertie pulled it from his pocket and wiped it on his trousers.

  It smelled pongy but it wasn’t like any coin he’d seen before. It was silver with writing around the edge.

  “I bet you it’s Roman,” said Bertie. “It’s even got the king’s head on it.”

  “The Romans had emperors,” Eugene pointed out.

  “Well, the emperor’s head, then. It must be worth loads,” said Bertie. “Maybe two or three million.”

  Wait till they heard about this at school, he thought. Miss Boot would be amazed. She’d probably ask him to give a talk about the Romans in assembly. They’d get their picture in all the papers. They’d probably get their own TV show. Bertie tossed the coin high into the air…

  OOOPS! The coin slipped through his fingers, hit the pavement and rolled away. It vanished down a drain with a plop!

  There was a stunned silence.

  “You idiot, Bertie!” groaned Darren. “What did you do that for?”

  “I didn’t mean to,” cried Bertie. “I meant to catch it!”

  He got down on his hands and knees and peered into the drain. He could see the coin, shining silver among the mucky gunk and leaves. He tried to wriggle his hand through the bars of the drain but the gap was too narrow.

  “I don’t believe it,” grumbled Darren. “At last we find a Roman coin and you chuck it away!”

  “It was an accident!” said Bertie. “There must be some way to get it back.”

  “There is one thing we could try,” said Eugene. “Wait here!”

  Ten minutes later, Bertie and Darren watched as Eugene lowered a piece of string down into the drain. Tied to the end was a super strong magnet. Eugene fished around. It took a few attempts but finally he pulled the string slowly back up.

  The silver coin was stuck to the magnet, caked in mud. Bertie grabbed it before it fell. Yes! They were back in business.

  In the kitchen, Bertie’s mum was making lunch.

  “You’ll never guess what we found!” cried Bertie, running in.

  “Don’t tell me – buried treasure,” said Mum.

  “Yes! A Roman coin!” said Bertie, holding it up. “It’s real silver and millions of years old!”

  Mum took it from him. “A Roman coin, hmm? Let’s have a look at it,” she said.

  Going over to the sink, she washed off all the mud and held the coin up to the light.

  “Ah, that’s interesting,” she said. “I wonder where it came from.”

  “Is it Roman?” asked Bertie hopefully.

  “Hardly,” laughed Mum. “It’s Canadian. Look, it says there, fifty cents.”

  “WHAT?” cried Bertie.

  After all they’d been through to rescue the coin, it turned out it wasn’t Roman at all! The treasure hunters looked at each other. Bertie’s shoulders drooped.

  “You mean it’s not worth millions?” he asked.

  “I doubt it,” said Mum. “Maybe around 10p. Still, I’ll look after it while you finish your jobs.”

  “Jobs?” said Bertie. “What jobs?”

  Mum steered him to the window.

  “It looks like someone dug up half the lawn,” she said. “I’d like all those holes filled in, please. Now.”

  Bertie rolled his eyes. It was the last time they borrowed a metal detector. The only thing they’d found all day was heaps of trouble!

  COPYRIGHT

  STRIPES PUBLISHING LIMITED

  An imprint of The Little Tiger Group

  1 Coda Studios, 189 Munster Road,

  London SW6 6AW

  First published as an ebook by Stripes Publishing Limited in 2019.

  Text copyright © Alan Macdonald, 2019

  Illustrations copyright © David Roberts, 2019

  eISBN: 978–1–84715–989–2

  The right of Alan Macdonal and David Roberts to be identified as the author and illustrator of this work respectively has been asserted by them in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988.

  All rights reserved.

  Apart from any use permitted under UK copyright law, this publication may only be reproduced, stored, or transmitted, in any forms, or by any means, with prior permission in writing of the publishers or, in the case of reprographic production, in accordance with the terms of licences issued by the Copyright Licensing Agency.

  A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

  www.littletiger.co.uk

 

 

  Alan MacDonald, Spider!

 

 

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