Lost Cipher by Michael Oechsle Page A

each other. And seeing as we’re doing the trip in the middle of the week when everybody else is working, that’ll probably be the only time we’ll see anyone else.”
    A lot of the campers had questions, and by the time Aaron finished answering them, Maggie had the fire blazing. She sat down among the campers and spoke above their chatter.
    â€œListen up, everyone.” She looked across the fire at her brother. “I understand you ran into some treasure hunters today, and Aaron says some of you have questions about our little treasure legend. So I guess that will have to be our story tonight.”
    â€œBut,” her brother chimed in, “if we tell this story, you all have to promise us one thing—nobody gets gold fever.”
    â€œWhat’s that?” asked a lanky boy sitting next to Lucas.
    â€œIt means no one goes crazy and wanders off thinking they’re going to find an imaginary treasure. You do that, and there’s a way better chance you’ll end up lost or hurt or dead.”
    â€œAre you kidding?” Zack piped up. “Maybe if you’re totally desperate for money.” He was just sitting down with the group, late from his kitchen duty. He aimed the comment across the fire at Lucas. For a second, Lucas caught his eye and glared back.
    Aaron shot Zack a look too before addressing the group again. “So do we have a deal?”
    The campers nodded and muttered in agreement.
    But Aaron hesitated and looked up at the black ridges silhouetted against the twilight, like the mountains themselves might be listening. “You know, Maggie, we really aren’t supposed to tell them about the treasure.”
    â€œOh, come on, Aaron. Stop being so creepy about it. I’ll tell it if you won’t.” She stared into the fire, searching for the right place to begin.
    â€œSo, there used to be a little crossroads town called Buford’s down at the foot of these mountains. In the winter of 1820, a stranger named Thomas Jefferson Beale walked into the town’s inn. The owner, a guy named Robert Morris, didn’t know exactly where Beale was from, only he was a Virginian. He described him as tall and strong, with a dark tan, like he’d spent a lot of time somewhere in the sun. He also said Beale was a real lady’s man.”
    â€œI can relate,” interrupted George. A couple of the girls groaned.
    Maggie continued. “Beale stayed at Morris’s inn for the whole winter and left with some other men from Virginia in the spring, supposedly to hunt buffalo and grizzly bear out west on the Great Plains. Morris pretty much forgot about him. But two years later, Beale was back at the inn for another winter. By then, he’d learned of Morris’s reputation as one of the most trustworthy men in this part of the state. So this time, Beale left something behind—a small, locked box—and he made Morris promise to keep it safe until he returned. And Morris did just what he promised. He locked the box away in a safe place and kept it a secret, even from his own family.
    â€œMorris only heard from Beale one more time, in a letter from St. Louis two months later. Beale wrote that he was off again to hunt out west and that he wouldn’t return for another two years. He told Morris that the box contained important papers and losing them would cost Beale and his men a lot of money. He also told Morris that the papers were written in code and that if he didn’t return on schedule, a friend of Beale’s would bring him the key, and Morris would be able to decipher them.”
    â€œSo what happened?” asked a girl sitting next to Maggie. “Did he ever come back?”
    â€œNope,” replied Maggie. “No one ever saw Beale or any of his men again. If the story is even true, they probably got lost in a blizzard or killed by Indians or something.”
    â€œSo did the dude finally crack open the box?” Zack