Way Down Deep by Ruth White

was bothering Bird. It seems he was remembering something that happened on Yonder Mountain a long, long time ago. There was a family living on the other side of the mountainfrom us, who had a whole bunch of kids. In hot weather they laid quilts out on the front porch and let the little ones sleep there. Nobody dreamed that anything could happen to them. They didn’t think there were any dangerous animals still stalking those hills.
    â€œBut one night the smallest girl—her name was Jolene—vanished from the porch. The dark just swallowed her up. The other children didn’t see or hear a thing. A search party was organized, and they combed the area for days, but not a trace of her was to be found. Some people on the mountain said they heard a panther the very night the girl disappeared. Nobody had known of a panther being in those parts for over fifty years, but the people said they knew that’s what it was because of the way it cried. A panther screams like a woman, you know.”
    â€œI’ve heard tell that,” Ruby said.
    â€œSo everybody figured little Jolene had been devoured by a panther, just like Bird said last night.”
    â€œHow awful!” Ruby said, shivering in the bright sunlight.
    â€œYeah, I guess it really worried Bird. He had met the girl, and he never quite got over it. Maybe you reminded him of her in some way.”
    They paused and looked down at the town below them, nestled in its pocket between the hills. Sure enough, at The Roost they could see Jethro standing on top of the Packard, probably chewing his cud, as he watched the people going to worship, some walking, some in cars.
    â€œIt looks like a picture in a storybook,” Peter said.
    â€œYes, it does,” Ruby agreed. “Did you know there’s a treasure buried somewhere down there?”
    â€œWhat kind of treasure?”
    â€œA pirate’s treasure. Gold doubloons and pieces of eight.”
    â€œNo kidding?”
    â€œThat’s what Miss Arbutus told me. She’s a direct descendant of the man who settled this town—Archibald Ward the first. He’s the one who buried the treasure.”
    As they continued their hike, church bells from the three churches in the valley began ringing. Almost immediately one dog in town started howling like an old hound hot on a trail. Following his lead, all the other dogs, one by one, began to howl as well. Their chorus grew so loud, you could barely make out the sound of the bells. Ruby and Peter looked at each other and smiled. The day felt good, perfect.
    As they crossed over a treeless patch of the mountain, there were wildflowers growing by the path, and blackberry blossoms everywhere. Ruby thought it would be a dandy spot for a picnic next month during berry season.
    â€œDon’t you belong to a church?” Peter interrupted her thoughts.
    â€œNo, but I sometimes attend the services here or there. In warm weather I like to go to evening vespers,” Ruby said. “We meet outside under the stars. I love to sing out of doors in the dark. You can hear the voices echoing against the mountainside.”
    The dogs had finally settled down, and Ruby and Peter paused to enjoy the bells.
    â€œSpeaking of echoes,” Peter said, “that name—you know the name Mr. A. H. Crawford said we should not mention? Well, I dreamed I was in a cave, and that name kept echoing off the walls. Where was he this morning? In his room writing?”
    â€œNo, he was sleeping,” Ruby said. “He hardly ever opens his eyes before noon. I think Mr. Crawford has missed a lot because he has never seen a sunrise.”
    â€œNever?”
    â€œ
Probably
never. Sad people seem to need a lot of sleep.”
    â€œHow many hours do you think he sleeps?”
    â€œIt’s hard to say,” Ruby said. “He gets up and goes to The Boxcar Grill for dinner, and he might take a nap before supper. He has a record player, and he plays