[Vfw-times] Adventures in Chattahoochee Hollar - Mystery Bag (3/?)

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“Sure, that’ll be fine.  Tell Mr. Max I said hello,” Mr. Foxley stated.  
“Well, now
that we have that settled, let’s say grace and eat.”

The rest at the table agreed and bowed their heads while Mr. Foxley said 
grace. 
Anna, with a grateful heart, silently asked God to forgive her, and thanked 
Him
for His loving grace that caused her heart to stir and letting her see her 
faults. 
She also thanked Him for the food they were about to eat.  When Mr. Foxley
finished, she whispered with a grateful heart, “Amen!”  

After a prayer of thanksgiving, each ate a hearty helping or two of the dinner
Mama prepared.   When dinner was over, and when each helped themselves to
a nice slice of chocolate cake, everyone pushed themselves away from the table
a bit and relaxed.  Mr. Foxley looked at his wife.

“Well, I’d better get back out in the field, I told Travis I’d take him 
fishing later on
this afternoon.”

“Daddy, I was wonderin’, did you ever see what was inside that bag down in 
the
river?” Travis inquired.  “I don’t think it would be safe for anyone to go 
swimming
if it’s still there.”

“Come to think of it, no,” answered his father.  “Johnny, let’s go on down 
to the
river, and let’s get that bag.”

“Jack, are you sure that’s a good idea?  You just got through eating.” 
Mrs. Foxley asked.  

Mr. Foxley chuckled in his deep voice.  “We’ll be fine.  It’ll only take a 
few
minutes, and we’ll get back out into the field.”  “Besides, the walk will do 
us
good.”

“Come on, Johnny, let’s go.” 

“Okay Dad,” Johnny answered, rising up out of his chair, and heading towards
the door.  

“Anna, take Travis and his friends on over to Mr. Max’s now, and let his 
friends
call their parents.”

“Okay Dad,” answered Anna.  She looked at Travis and the muskrat brothers,
“Let’s go!”

Mrs. Foxley then looked at her older daughter, Stephanie.  “I guess it’s 
just me
and you!”   “Let’s get these dishes washed up.”

The two foxes walked down to the river, searching for the spot where Mr. 
Chavis
had pulled Travis out of the water a month ago.  Recognizing an old water oak,
Mr. Foxley said that they were in the right area.   Both foxes, still in their
overalls,  dived into the deep water and swam underneath, looking for the 
bag. 
They each had to surface several times until they found it at the bottom of 
the
river.  It appeared to be an old feed bag.  The type used to store chicken 
feed. 
At one end was the long cord that had snared Travis.  At first, Mr. Foxley 
pulled
on it, trying to drag it to the surface, but it was too heavy.  Seeing his 
father
struggle, Johnny quickly grabbed a bottom corner of the bag, and pushed
himself up from the muddy river bottom.  Again, the bag proved to be too 
heavy. 
Both men surfaced, and dived back down again.  This time, both lifted the bag
from underneath and finally brought it to the surface.  They kept swimming 
until
they reached the river bank and sat, breathing heavily.  

“Whew!  That bag must weigh two hundred pounds,” Johnny said to his father in
between breaths.  Both men were dripping wet.

“Well, let’s take a look and see what we got,” Mr. Foxley said, opening the
partially clenched bag.

“Whatever it is, it’s huge,” Johnny exclaimed, looking at the bag.  

Mr. Foxley opened the bag and revealed a large metal locked box.  

“What could it be?” Johnny asked.  “Who would put this inside a feedbag?”

“Someone who is trying to bury their past,” his father answered.  “Look at 
the
latch.  There are some initials on it.  S. J. R.”   “Huh... S. J. R., now 
who could
that be?”  He tested the strength of the padlock on the box.  It would not 
budge.  

Both men were in deep thought of this mysterious metal chest, and who the
initials belonged to.

“I wish we had the key to that lock,” Johnny stated.

“Well, let’s get it home.  We’ll get it opened, then.” Mr. Foxley said.  
Johnny put
the burlap feedbag over his shoulder and helped his father carry the chest
home.


Travis, Anna, and the muskrat brothers arrived at Mr. Max’s Grocery.  Behind 
the
counter stood the store’s proprietor, Mr. Max McDonald, or Mr. Max, as he was
known.  He was a tall, lankey otter who was wearing a white smock tied around
his waist.  His daughter, Shelley, a girl of eighteen years was behind the
counter, fetching a parcel for a raccoon man who was talking with her father.

“Here’s your package, Mr. Ringtail,” the girl chimed happily as she handed 
the
parcel to the man.  

Mr. Max spied the return address of the parcel.

“Little Rock, Arkansas!  Boy, that’s a long ways away!”  the otter spoke.

“Be sure to sign the register, Mr. Ringtail,” Shelley spoke.

Mr. Ringtail signed the register without saying a word, and turned to leave 
the
store.

“Have a good day!” Shelley called out, waving to the ‘coon.

As the ‘coon was making his exit, Travis, his sister, and his friends were 
coming
in.

“Oh, excuse me sir!” Travis spoke.

Mr. Ringtail stepped to the side.  He looked at the children, particularly 
Travis as
they filed into the store.

“I wonder,” the ‘coon thought to himself.  He lingered in the doorway, 
watching
the small customers.

“Hey Mr. Max!  Can we use your telephone?” Anna asked the otter standing
behind the counter.

Mr. Max leaned over the counter to look at the lively children that had just
entered his store.

“Hello Anna, Travis!  How’s your family?   Hello Wadell and Strogie!  I 
trust all of
you are doin’ fine.”

“Just fi....” Travis barely got the words out of his mouth when the raccoon 
spoke
up.

“Travis?  As in Travis Foxley?” Mr. Ringtail asked by the door.

“Yes sir, that’s me,”  Travis answered slowly, uncertain of who this masked
stranger was.  “Is there somethin’ I can do for you mister?”  

The raccoon’s jaw dropped.   He backed up slowly out of the door, and then
scrambled outside, nearly dropping his parcel.  The children watched him run
and then looked to each other, and then looked at Mr. Max.