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Damshe nodded back at Francis.

"Okey-doke, amigo," he shouted to him. "Here goes nothin'!"

With both levers being thrown, the large stone doors began to creak and groan loudly. Damshe motioned everyone to stay back as the doors slowly but forcefully swung open. Behind them was a smaller room than the one that they were in. In fact, it probably couldn't even be called a room. It was just a small alcove attached to the room they were in... and there was a large treasure chest in it.

Before anyone else could move, Damshe was already standing right in front of the chest, blocking access to it for the moment.

"Now, this is just a precaution," he said reassuringly. "I lay no claim to anything in here. I'm just going to open it in case we happen to have any booby-traps in play. Then, it's all yours, lads."

Damshe turned back to the chest. Momentarily he was stumped by a padlock on the chest. Why hadn't the map indicated the need for a key? Well, with him around they certainly wouldn't need one... Damshe crushed the lock in his hand.

Now came the moment of truth. Putting both hands on the lid, Damshe pushed it open with a grunt. A load of dust from ages bygone floated up into his face, temporarily clouding his vision and making him cough. After waving it away Damshe peered into the chest. He was suddenly frozen to the spot in awe.

"I don't believe it," he mumbled , shaking his head in amazement.

Damshe reached into the chest slowly and pulled out a single small object. At first, it seemed to be just a figurine of a clown. However, upon further inspection, the head flipped off and a small flame ignited from the clown's neck. A tag attached to the clown lighter read "Get your Doughy the Pizza Clown lighter for just $9.99 at all Big Top Pizza locations!"

Before Damshe could say anything, a loud clunk was heard. Damshe glanced about quickly, grabbed the otter, and tackled Francis to the ground. It had all taken place in the space of a second. Just as they impacted with the floor, there was a large rushing noise above them, like a swarm of angry hornets.

"Stay down!" Damshe shouted, pressing both Francis and the otter into a prone position.

Damshe raised his right hand experimentally and almost immediately brought it back down, biting his lip hard to contain his agony. The hand now looked like a grotesque, overstuffed pincushion.

"Damn... Metal darts comin' from the walls. Don't know if they're poisonous. We'll just have to wait and see if I come down with something."

Damshe cast his gaze about the room quickly. The darts gave no indication of stopping anytime soon and it was too dangerous to move towards the exit while they were firing. As far as he could see, there was no way to turn them off.

"I don't like the looks of our chances..." Damshe muttered grimly.

Suddenly, he spotted an unlit torch positioned above a ledge over the entrance. An idea sparked in his head. He turned towards the otter.

"Alright, little buddy," he said in a calm but serious tone. "Listen to what I have to say very carefully. You have got to get this stupid lighter to that ledge. Take it over to that torch over there. I'm pretty sure you'll know what to do from there..."

He tapped the otter pointedly on the noise as he pressed the lighter into his paws.

"And don't even think about leaving us. Trust me, it'll be worth your while to get us out of this mess alive!"

Damshe turned to stare about the air space that had just recently been occupied by a painful death. Smiling widely he stood up into a kneeling position and took the otter's paw in his left hand, which was spared the sting of the deep-penetrating darts.

"Well done, my little friend," he complimented him. "Now, let's get ourselves and our fainted friend out of here!"

Moments later, Damshe had carried Francis back to the lakeshore, where he then deposited him gently upon a sunbaked rock. Damshe stared at Francis for a moment and then at the otter, his mind contemplating the day's events.

Suddenly, he began raffling through the inner pockets of his jacket, his mind set on making things right. Pulling out a pen and some sort of paper, he began jotting something down, talking to the otter as he did so.

"I think he'll be alright... once he gets over his weak stomach, that is. Sorry I got you dragged into this farce of a treasure hunt. I was really hoping for a better outcome than this. But don't worry... I won't let you go home empty-han- Errrr... Pawed."

Having finished his writing, Damshe put a check for $5,000 in one of Francis's pockets as well as the clown lighter, which he wanted nothing to do with after all the trouble it had caused to get it.

He also left a note, which read: "We got out alive, as you can probably tell. I'm sorry about the wasted trip. Seems we fell for the most elaborate marketing campaign that I've ever had the shame of witnessing. I hope that what I've left you is enough to compensate you for your losses, whatever those may be. Maybe we can meet up again sometime for lunch or something. Hope to see some good art out of you! -Bill Connors"

Then, Damshe went over to the otter and kneeled before him again.

"I have to admit, you saved our bacon. You can have this, my treat."

Damshe removed a golden wristwatch from his right wrist. He laid it out carefully in front of the otter.

"It's certainly no treasure and it does have a little blood on it now, but I figured you'd like something shiny."

Damshe straightened up to his full height and turned to walk off.

"It's been fun, pal, but I'd better get a move on. Maybe we'll see each other around the Reserve. For now, adios!"

With that, Damshe walked off down the lakeshore, extracting metal darts from his right hand as he went. It was definitely not the peaceful day full of drawing that he had imagined but somehow, it still held its own satisfaction.