As I came into the store this evenin’, I noticed the little Jenkins kid was standin’ around with his hands in his pockets, eyein’ the stick candy in the jar on the counter. I always felt sorry for that kid since he had ears like ole Peter Rabbit in the story that Potter woman wrote— they was pink and stuck out so far you could see the sun shinin’ through ’em. I tossed Mam a penny and motioned for her to give the kid a couple of sticks. She shook her head and rolled her eyes, but gave him one anyways, and he ducked his head at me, in thanks, I reckon, kinda shy-like.
I walked over and started listenin’ to the gossip around the stove. The fellas didn’t have anything new on the murder, just rehashin’ old stuff. I stayed a couple of minutes, and then decided I’d head on out; it was cold, and gettin’ dark, and I needed to get on. As I stood buttonin’ my coat on the porch, I felt a tug on my jacket, and lookin’ down, saw some big ears, and a sticky hand holdin’ a piece of candy. The Jenkins kid, he grabbed my sleeve and whispered real soft-like that he had found somethin’ he wanted to show me.
Well, he led me around back of the store, and reached under the springhouse and motioned for me to come close, and what did he pull out but that big ole hunk of silver. I didn’t waste any time askin’ him where did he get it, and he said he found it in the mine. I turned it over in my hand and noticed it didn’t have no hole or hook nor nothin’ to hang on the strap the murdered man wore, and decided maybe it wasn’t the same piece. I asked him would he show me where he found it, and he looked scared and said he never went near that mine when it was gettin’ toward dark because of spooks. But he did agree to meet me at the entrance the next mornin’.
I dreamed of silver all night long, and spooks, too, and landslides, and woke up in a cold sweat, not sure I wanted to find what might be waitin’ for me that day. But the Jenkins kid was right there where he told me he’d be, lookin’ excited-like, and led me down a bunch of corridors in the mine, bein’ careful to mark his way with string and chalk. Me, I don’t like enclosed spaces, so I was sweatin’, even in the cold, and wished we’d soon get to where he was leadin’ me. Finally he stopped, and motioned with his lantern to look up.
And sure enough. A big ole hunk of ceiling of this corridor had given way, and the light shinin’ in the dark reflected offa long curvy veins of silver and zinc amidst the limestone walls. Looked like more zinc was left in that rock than those no-good Turner guys had led folks to believe when they closed the mine. But the big news was the veins of silver . . .
Why, silver was sellin’ for 50-60 cents an ounce, not what it used to, but that was still plenty more than nothin’. That could mean the world to folks around here.
While I was standin’ there feelin’ greedy, the Jenkins kid all of a sudden blew out his lantern, and pulled me down in the darkness. And I heard it, too. The sound of footsteps gettin’ closer. Spooks didn’t make noise when they walked, did they . . .