We had hiked for about an hour on the trail, gear on our backs, following the numbers on the little tiny GPS device.
There was a blip where we could find the treasure. It blinked tantilizingly green on the screen.

“You sure we’re going the right way?” Tommy called out. He was really panting, sweat was dripping from his nose.

“Yes! The blip is getting closer!” Our fearless leader, Patti declared. She was full of hare-brained ideas, like going Geocaching on the hottest day of the year in Yosemite National Park.

After driving several hundred miles, eating tiny bags of potato chips and orange crackers with peanut butter substances, we were not prepared for a 5 mile hike uphill in 90 degree weather!

“I think we passed that tree before!’ Complained Will, who was logically getting more frustrated.

“It’s just over his ridge!” yelled Patti, trudging forward with a momentum the rest of us had lost minutes ago.

“Can we rest?” I begged, my shins killing me.

“Where’d the blip go?” Patti asked, confused.
We groaned.