Once more there came the zig-zag flash across the sky. This time the roar that followed was fairly deafening.
“Hit’s judgment!” Blinkey Bill mumbled. “Judgment of the Lord almighty!”
“What you all been a doin’?” Ballard asked, dropping into native speech.
“Nothin’. Not nary a thing! I tell you nary a thing!” Blinkey Bill fairly screamed these words.
“How about Uncle Mose and his coal mine?” Johnny suggested softly.
“That no-count old—” Blinkey Bill broke off. Mouth open, eyes staring, he once again took in that terrifying spectacle that, so far as he knew, was a special act of God, a bolt from the blue.
“Tell you the truth,” he was fairly whimpering now. “Fact is I ain’t for sartin’ sure my Pappy bought in them coal rights.”
“Then,” suggested Johnny, “you better let Uncle Mose mine his coal.”
“I reckon as how I orter do that,” Blinkey Bill agreed.
“Wait. I’ll write it out.” Johnny drew pencil and paper from his pocket and pretended to write. Truth was he and Donald had carefully prepared the release on Uncle Mose’s coal rights hours before.