CHAPTER TWENTY
An hour later, I crouched low behind the tombstone of someone named Harvey Jones (who, according to the tombstone, lived from 1884 to 1950) in the old Golden City Graveyard, trying to be as still and quiet as possible. Every now and then I’d peer around the side of the tombstone, but I never saw anything other than the various tombstones scattered here and there, plus the trees which dotted the graveyard. One such tree—a large, old oak—stood over the tombstone I hid behind, though due to the fact that it had no leaves, it didn’t provide me with as much cover as I would have wanted. Still, the Harvey Jones tombstone was wide enough that I was completely hidden from anyone walking along the main path through the Graveyard, which was important if the plan was going to work.
O
