“Noooo!” Jack yelled again, and sat bolt upright in his bed at home. He was sweating and shaking. Confused, Jack looked around.
It was definitely his bedroom. Whizzy was asleep on his bedside table. The clock next to Whizzy said 7:15 P.M., and Jack’s Magic Map was still on his wall. What had seemed like a real life-or-death chase was nothing more than a bad dream.
Feeling something leaning against his stomach, he reached down to pick it up. It was a book called The Most Dangerous Treasure Hunters in the World. That would explain the nightmare, he thought. Jack had dozed off before his normal bedtime while reading about the adventures of the notorious treasure hunter, Callous Carl.
Callous Carl ruled the southern part of America when it came to treasure hunting. If there was gold to find, Callous Carl and his gang of bandits weren’t too far behind.
He had been given the name “Callous” because he was heartless and because years of digging up gold had turned his hands rough, like sandpaper. Although nobody knew exactly how many men worked for Carl, there were estimates he had up to ten men in his gang.
The book had a description of the chief outlaw.
Carl was missing a right eyebrow, and he wore beat-up cowboy clothes and red leather boots. He carried a pointed dagger in a sheath on his hip. Callous Carl definitely belonged in Jack’s book. He was one dangerous dude.
“Are you okay?” said a voice, as a knock came from the other side of Jack’s door. It was Jack’s mother. She must have heard him shout out. She opened the door a crack, and stuck her face around it.
“I’m okay, Mum,” said Jack, holding up his book. “I fell asleep while reading this, and I guess it gave me a nightmare.”
“Glad you’re all right,” she said. “Just make sure to get yourself ready for bed. It’s almost seven thirty. Love you,” she added, as she blew him a kiss and closed the door.
