Not too bad. He walked toward me, hands pushed deep into his pockets, hunching slightly. I held it up. Mr. Jones took it from my hands, looked it over. Thought I would go and try to dig up the treasure.
Someone is bound to get there sooner or later.
My eyes searched his face. His eyes became serious, his eyebrows dropped. He rested his wrinkled, calloused hand on my shoulders. There's evil in that hole, pure evil. So evil that God has locked it up, and he sits and guards it.