Goop pulled the spike from his tool belt, his eye on a boulder that looked like a rotten pumpkin in a patch of grey limestone scree. The boulder was streaked with fissures, its face mottled with black, orange and green lichen. It seemed unnatural and out of place. It was perfect, in other words.
He grinned. If he was right, the treasure was hidden here and his family would never be poor again. He waved at his father who was standing near a tree a hundred feet below, keeping lookout. All day Goop had been knocking rocks loose, sending them careening down the mountainside. His father had to dance a jig to avoid them. Goop wedged the spike into a tiny gap. He wiped sweat from his forehead with his dirty sleeve, picked up the sledgehammer with both hands, reached back and swung with all his might.
He was shocked when the spike pierced the rock as easy as a pitchfork into hay, leaving nothing but a two-inch hole behind. Bits of rock crumbled around the edges. Goop heard a dull clang in the darkness--metal bouncing off rock. There was an echo.
"Dad!" he shouted. "I've got something."
Disbelieving his luck, he peered into the black hole. Cool air blew against his eye, drying it.
He reset his stance, grinding his shoes into the scree. Secured now, he raised the sledge and struck the pumpkin face dead on. It imploded, collapsing inward. Falling rocks grabbed the sledge.