By Harold Miles (auth.)

. . .the novel captures the spirit of frontier event fiction in a latest atmosphere and may intrigue fanatics of the yank picaresque. -Publisher's Weekly

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Example text

I'd be able to kick all the way through. I carefully made my way through the kitchen to the fireplace, and stood directly in front of it. Backing away from the hearth two feet, I guessed I was standing directly Treasure Hunt 49 over the money. I stomped hard on the floor and was able to bust out a good size chunk of rotten wood. The ground beneath was dry and firm. Looking around the room, I could see the Bruton snuff box me and Uncle Will had noticed on the mantleboard the spring before was still there.

Uncle Will said, "Nephew, don't be that way. " "Uncle Will, I ain't never heard anybody talk like that in front a lady. How dare you! I like Julie.. '! love Julie," I stammered out. "That's alright. Nephew, you don't know nothing about girls, and she don't know nothing about boys, but I got a feeling before this night's over, ya'll are going to find out. Just consider what I said an ice breaker. Julie accepted it in good grace, so don't be an old stick in the mud. Just sit down and let's talk until visiting hours are over.

With my eyes shut, I could still see it stretched across the river with 15 to 20 lines hanging from it. "I remember saying to Gene, 'That was pretty close. Maybe we ought to move into the old bus. ' Before I got that out of my mouth, an, other flash of lightnin' lit up the skies, then the rain came. The heavens opened like I'd never seen before. We made a mad dash to myoId school bus. "All the storms I ever saw before was just a little sigh of the el, ements compared to what we saw that night. Me and Gene turned our chairs around toward the back of the bus so we could see the trotline.

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