The Treasure of Netherstrand

Chapter 7

The pen scratched frantically across the paper, writing fast lines of boring words. It was the only sound which could be heard in Hannover's office, but it spoke all of the worries inside of the man's head.

An hour and a half! Just one hour and a half before the post goes out, and I still have letters to seal and more letters to write! Whatever am I to do? He threw a quick, scrutinizing glance toward his errand boy. The question is, can he make it in time? he wondered.

His frowning glance drew Tim's attention and made a sunny smile dawn over the boy's face. Timothy was ready to dash away on his errand in an instant, and yet, he didn't seem rushed. There was a look of perfect patience on his face, as if he was content just to be there waiting on his master.

There is no understanding him, the man thought, smiling inwardly. The boy's peaceful silence was hard to understand. But somehow it rubbed off on Hannover, and he was able to write the rest of his letters without feeling too overwhelmed. Finally, the man sealed his last letter and started up from his seat.

"There! Finished! Finally!" he blurted. "You have only one hour to get to the post office! One hour, do you understand? And for goodness sake, don't be late! My business is too important to be stalled! At this rate, you'll have to run!"

Timothy looked shocked as his master pushed a huge heap of letters into his arms. "Oh, don't you worry, sir. I'll be quick!" he promised, struggling to grab on to all of the envelopes. "But...but mayn't I find a bag to stuff 'em into?"

"No time!" Hannover replied frantically. He put a large package under both of Tim's arms and crammed a few more letters into his overstuffed hands. "Now be off with you and be careful! I don't want a single letter crumpled, understand?"

Timothy's face flushed at the challenge. Not a letter crumpled? he thought. Blimey! 'Ow am I t' manage that? He swallowed hard and smiled with a nervous laugh. "I'll try awfully hard, sir," he said. Then, not wasting another second, he turned and ran out of the room.

Hurrying outside and across the warm sand, he ran as fast as he possibly could. But he was fighting to keep a hold of his burden every minute. With each jogging step, several letters started slipping out of his hands, then he had to wiggle them all around until he had them in a firm grasp again.

Wonder what time it is? he thought worriedly. He wanted to look at his pocket watch but, with his hands full, there was no way.

He glanced up at the blue sky and the brilliant sun which hung there like an ornament. It was a beautiful morning in September. The light was bright and warm. But there was a briskness in the air that hailed the coming of autumn.

As high as the sun had risen, Tim guessed that it was almost time for the mail train to leave. He pushed on down the road as fast as his legs would carry him.

By the time Timothy reached the edge of town, his sprint had slowed to a stumbling, plodding trot. He was panting, hot, thirsty. On either side of the street, there were little spots of shade, but he couldn't stop, not even for a minute.

The post office is just half a mile away! he thought. I can make it!

He let out a weary moan. Half a mile seemed so far. His legs felt heavy and tired. All he wanted to do was sit down and rest. But he couldn't do that.

With determination, he threw all of his effort into his pace and started springing down the busy street. But just at that moment, the door of a nearby shop swung open, and a tall figure stepped right into Tim's path.

In a blurring half-second, Timothy felt himself crash into the person. He let out a startled cry, stumbled backward, and lost his grip on everything. The boy found himself sitting on the dirty cobblestones with dozens of letters fluttering all around him.