Haunted Island by Joan Lowery Nixon Read Free Book Online

ghosts?”
    “We turned and ran as fast as we could down to the boat. A few years later someone else tried to hunt for the treasure on the island, but came back frightened and trembling and reported seeing the ghosts of Joshua Hanover and Shadow. No one ever set foot on the island again.”
    Chris spoke up. “I don’t believe anyone saw a ghost. I think people heard the stories and were scared and imagined what they saw.”
    “Believe what you will,” Amos said.
    Chris thought a moment. “Do you really think the sack of coins is there?”
    “It’s not up to me to say.”
    “I’d like to go to the island,” Chris said.
    “No!” Amy said.
    “Yes!” Chris turned to Amy. “Don’t you see? This is our chance to prove the stories are just old superstitions. We can look around the island and get some ideas for Aunt Jennie, so she can make it into a picnic area. When we come back and report that the island is a great place to visit—without a ghost in sight—people won’t be afraid to visit the island. Aunt Jennie could carry out her plans for the inn.”
    “Well, maybe,” Amy said.
    “Besides,” Chris said. “What if we find the sack of money? That would help Aunt Jennie pay her bills.”
    “I think you should, go,” Amos told them. His eyes shone with eagerness. “It’s time for the ghosts to be laid to rest.”
    Their mother called from inside the house, “Chris! Amy! It’s getting late!”
    “I’ll take you to the island if you like,” Amos said.
    Chris got to his feet. “Yes!” he said. “When?”
    “Be at the dock in town tomorrow morning before five o’clock.”
    “That’s awfully early,” Amy said.
    “We’ll be there,” Chris said. “Before five. And thanks. Thanks for telling us the story.”
    “Hey, you two, where are you?” their mother called. “It’s too dark to be out there.”
    “Coming!” Amy called. She and Chris hurried into the house.
    Their mother and Aunt Jennie were in the downstairs bathroom, struggling with a strip of wallpaper. “This is a small room,” Aunt Jennie said. “We haven’t got enough space to maneuver. We need the two of you to get in here and put this strip of paper in that tiny alcove behind the door.”
    As they squeezed around each other, changing places, Chris said, “We were on the porch, talking to Amos Corley.”
    “Who’s Amos Corley?” Aunt Jennie asked.
    “Doesn’t he work for you?”
    “I don’t think so. Of course, I don’t know the names of all the workmen who’ve been here. But what is he doing on the back porch so late in the evening?” She immediately walked to the back door, opened it, and looked out. “No one’s on the porch,” she said.
    “He probably left when we came inside,” Chris said.
    “He told us about the big earthquake,” Amy said. “You know, the one when the river split and made your island.”
    “That was a terrible quake,” Aunt Jennie said. “I’ve read about it. It went on and on for three months. It was the worst quake ever to take place in the United States.”
    “I remember reading about that earthquake, too,” their mother said. “In fact, I think you gave me the magazine article.” She turned to Amy and Chris. “That first earthquake was so violent that the shock waves were felt as far away as Boston!”
    “Wow!” Chris said. “Amos told us how awful it felt to be in it.” He ran the brush over the strip of wallpaper, checking to see that it was perfectly straight.
    “He must have read about it, too,” Aunt Jennie said.
    “No. He was there,” Chris said. He squeezed out of the bathroom and wiped the paste from his hands to his jeans. “He was living on the island—before it became an island—when the quakes took place.”
    “He couldn’t have been,” their mother said. She began picking up the bucket and tools they’d been using.
    “Why not?” Chris asked.
    “Because the quakes took place during December of 1811 and the first two months of 1812, that’s