Free The Box and the Bone by Zilpha Keatley Snyder

He’d thought before that Laura Grant could be a great athlete if she were just into track and field instead of ballet. He was still watching when, right in front of her own house, she stopped and picked something up. As the three of them walked on past, Bucky and Eddy were busy ignoring Laura, like they usually did with girls. But Carlos looked at her and said, “Hi.” And saw very clearly what she was holding in her hands. A few yards farther on he grabbed Bucky and Eddy and pulled them to a stop.
    “Look!” he hissed. “Look at what Grant’s got.”
    “What do you mean, what she’s got?” Bucky said.
    Eddy peered around Bucky’s shoulder. “You mean like measles or zits or something?” he asked.
    “No. In her hands. What she’s holding. I think it’s … It looks like our box.”
    They all stared.
    “Hey. You’re right,” Eddy whispered. “That’s our treasure box, all right. See those handles on the ends and all those rusty places. What’s she doing with our box?”
    “That’s what I’m going to find out,” Bucky said. “Right this minute.” He started back down the sidewalk, and Carlos and Eddy followed.
    Laura Grant was still standing in the same place holding the box in both hands. She was turning it this way and that and opening and closing the lid. The padlock seemed to have disappeared. When she looked up and saw the PROs coming she smiled, looked again—and her smile faded. Carlos glanced at Bucky—and saw why. Bucky was doing his Rambo stare. He swaggered up to Laura Grant and said, “Okay, Grant. What are you doing with our box?”
    Laura’s too-big eyes seemed to get even bigger. “Your box? Is this your box?”
    “It sure is,” Bucky said. “What’s in it? Tell us what’s in it, okay. That’ll prove that it’s ours.”
    She looked puzzled. “My ballet slippers are in it.” She opened the box and held it out for them to look. “See. But I didn’t put them in there. They were just there when I picked it up.”
    Bucky narrowed his eyes. Reaching out, he grabbed the box out of Laura’s hand. “Sure they were,” he said sarcastically. He took out the ballet slippers and threw them on the ground. “Then what’s this? What are these things?”
    He held the box out for Laura to see. When Carlos looked, too, his stomach did a funny loop-the-loop, because in the bottom of the box were some old leather bags. Some empty old leather bags. Carlos glanced at Eddy. Eddy was making his lips into a “shhh-ing” shape. Carlos knew what he meant. Eddy meant that nobody had better mention the word coins .
    “See,” Bucky said, picking up one of the bags and shaking it in Laura’s face. “What was in these bags? Just tell me that. What was in there when you ‘found’ our box?”
    “I told you,” Laura’s voice was soft and shaky, like she might be about to cry. “I never saw that box until just a minute ago.” At that moment Nijinsky dashed out from behind the Grants’ house, ran to Laura, and jumped up to lick her face. Then he bounced around the lawn a few times before he sat down near her feet.
    Bucky stared at Nijinsky. Stared—and nodded his head slowly up and down. You could almost see a lightbulb coming on over his head. “I get it,” he said. “Now I get it.” He started shaking one of the bags in Laura’s face again. “That’s how you ‘found’ our box. Isn’t it? Your dog brought it to you. Well, he stole it. That mutt of yours dug up our box and stole it, and you’d better cough up everything that—”
    Suddenly Bucky quit yelling and looked down at Nijinsky—and at a whole lot of big white teeth .
    “Grrr,” Nijinsky said.
    Bucky backed slowly away. Laura put her hand on Nijinsky’s head. Then in one graceful motion she turned, picked up her slippers, and started down the path to her front door—floated down the path as if her feet hardly touched the ground. Nijinsky trotted along beside her, and nobody went after her or yelled at her to