The Treasure of Netherstrand

Chapter 1

He was almost always there, half hidden in the shadows. Feet tramped past, and voices rang out in a chaotic scene of noise and motion. But for a long, long time, the boy sat as still and quiet as a statue, looking at the people in the train station yet rarely being seen. He watched and he listened, as if waiting for something very particular.

If anyone had thought to notice the child, they would have seen a little boy, almost eight years old. His hair fell in dark tangled masses over his handsome little face. And his starry dark eyes flitted back and forth, full of curiosity and intelligence. For as long as he sat there, you would have thought that someone would have finally asked if the child was lost or if he was looking for someone in the crowd. But they didn't. No one seemed to care a stitch about a ragged waif like him. He may as well have been invisible.

The blast of a whistle rang shrilly through the cool autumn air. A mighty roar came from the huge steam engine, and a chorus of excited voices cheered as it was seen rolling up to the station. This was the minute they had all been waiting for. Some of them were looking for a loved one to get off of the big train. Others were waiting impatiently to get on board and take a journey of their own. But the lad sat still, waiting for no one and nothing in particular.

To him, all of the vibrant faces around him were dear. They were nameless and completely strange to him, but he loved them as if they were all his friends. That was just Timothy's way. No, really, it was Christ's way. And the love of God was clear to see shining through the child's brilliant eyes.

Even though Tim sat as still as stone, he really did have a plan. His eyes didn't wander up and down the station without a purpose. Soon, the very thing he was watching for happened. With shuffling hurried steps, a man ran past the child, never paying him any heed. The burly fellow was searching for his ticket and muttering anxiously to himself. As his hands went in and out of his pockets, he accidentally pulled out a handkerchief. Without his notice, it fluttered away and landed on the ground behind him.

Timothy's eyes shimmered. Like a cat pouncing on a mouse, he suddenly darted out of his hiding place and seized the white cloth before a single foot could tread on it. A thrill of joy ran through his heart. Most street boys would have tucked that handkerchief secretly into their pocket and sold it to buy a morsel of bread. But that never crossed Tim's mind. Instead, he held the thing high in the air and began to run, shouting, "Sir, ya lost this! Sir, wait! If ya please!" His swift feet caught up with the man just before the fellow boarded the train. "Wait! Wait!" Timothy cried, tugging on the man's sleeve.

With a startled look, the man whirled around. "Who are you?" he demanded gruffly. "What do you want?"

Tim gave an undaunted smile. "Ya dropped this, sir! An' I'm glad I caught ya in time, 'cause I ain't allowed on the train, an' ya woulda lost it for good if you'd gone away!"

"What?" The man looked puzzled as Tim pushed the white handkerchief into his hand.

"Ya see, sir, it's yer own hanky safe an' sound it is!" the boy explained cheerfully. "An' it ain't even too soiled!"

Still bewildered, the man looked down at the handkerchief and saw his own initials embroidered at the corner. "By jingo! It is mine!" he laughed at last. "Well, fancy that! There's a good lad for finding it. Now, I suppose you want something for your trouble, don't you? Of course, you do. Here, take this quickly." In haste, the man shoved his handkerchief back into one pocket and pulled out a shiny coin from another. But to his surprise, the boy shrank away at the sight of it.

"Oh, no sir! I didn't do it t' get paid!" the lad objected.

"What? Don't be ridiculous! Take it for goodness sake!" the man chuckled in perplexity. "There, goodbye now. And thank you!"