Ghost Cave Read Free Page A

his head, still surprised at how the old man traded. Why, he hadn’t even looked at all the relics before making a deal. The box had probably come from a farmer who needed money. All the farmers in the county had relics stacked around that they’d dug up in their fields over the years. And they knew Mr. Daniels was a sucker for local people in need.
    â€œHow much did you pay for this box, Mr. Daniels?” Marc asked. “None of these pieces are very good.” He’d be willing to bet that the farmer showed Mr. Daniels the bird points and hinted that the rest of the stuff was as good.
    â€œI didn’t pay much. But I’ll sell them all. Most tourists don’t know the difference between valuable stuff and ordinary pieces.” Mr. Daniels laughed, knowing Marc thought he’d been cheated.
    â€œTell Hermie and Eddie about selling the bean jar, Mr. Daniels.” Marc wanted to get the old man talking. He knew Mr. Daniels loved to talk even better than he liked to trade.
    Mr. Daniels rolled his own cigarettes. Before he told one of his stories, he’d dig into his pocket and pull out his cigarette papers and a little pouch of tobacco. Marc liked to watch him shake just the right amount of golden-brown flakes into the paper and pull the string to close the bag with his teeth. Then he’d run his tongue along one side of the thin paper and seal the cigarette shut with his finger.
    Once, Eddie had found a half pack of Camel cigarettes that Pops had lost, and he and Marc and Hermie smoked every one. All night Marc felt as if a mule had kicked him in the stomach. He wanted to die and get it over with.
    So he didn’t plan on smoking again, but if he ever did take up the habit, he knew he’d roll his own cigarettes. He’d already spent half a day learning to pop the head off a stick match with his thumbnail to light it. That was another of Mr. Daniels’s skills. Marc had carried a box of stick matches in his pocket ever since, in case he wanted to impress someone. He wasn’t much into impressing girls, but he could get a giggle out of Marcy Lee Wallace by pulling out a match and flaming it up for her. ’Course, some girls will giggle at just about anything. His mother hadn’t laughed, though. She liked putting candles on the table at dinnertime. But when Marc showed her his new trick for lighting them, she scolded, worrying he’d set the house on fire.
    Marc looked at Mr. Daniels, who’d gotten comfortable in his rocking chair. Bluedog curled up beside him to snooze during story time. Holding the crumpled cigarette carefully, Mr. Daniels took a long drag. He blew the smoke out slowly and began.
    â€œWell, after I’d had my lunch one day, I took and washed the brown glass jar my baked beans came in. I brought it out into the store and blew a little dust on it so it matched the rest of the merchandise. Not ten minutes later, a woman, dressed in real fancy clothes, mind you, came in and browsed around. I saw her looking at the jar.
    â€œâ€˜Is this old?’ she asked, bringing it over to me. ‘I don’t know that much about antique glass, lady,’ I said. Sometimes it pays to act dumb.” Mr. Daniels took a puff of his cigarette, and his blue eyes sparkled. “Customers love to think they know more than you do about your stuff. ‘I think I’ll take it,’ she said. ‘It just might be old.’ ”
    â€œHow much did you charge her?” Hermie asked. Mr. Daniels had paused, leaving off that part, knowing that either Hermie or Eddie would ask. Marc already knew, of course.
    â€œA dollar.” Mr. Daniels said. “And I’d only paid seventy-five cents for it when it was full of beans.”
    They all laughed. Bluedog woke up and barked to get in on the conversation. Marc wanted to tell Mr. Daniels he was full of beans. His mother used to say that to him, meaning he was pulling her leg. She was always easy to