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They find rich black muddy earth, soft and malodorous heaping scoops of it go into the shopping bags for later inspection. The six of them descend on the green grass and start digging. The boy figures the leeches must be underground, since he couldn’t see them before. They’ve got flashlights and plastic shopping bags they’ve got trowels from their mothers’ gardens. They’re back that evening just before dark, the boy and five of his friends. He squirms through the opening and onto the path, then runs along it until it comes out on the street a hundred yards farther on. The boy sticks his tongue out at the man and then goes back down the hill to the fence. Get lost, now, before I call your parents.” “Ain’t nothing in here that’s any business of yours.” The scrawny old fart, rumpled and sweaty in pants and long sleeves and gloves on this hot day, walks quick and stiff down a narrow path to the left of the leech field. The boy stands still, watching the slope, looking for telltale wriggling or squirming. He thought maybe he’d find a dead deer or something, but a leech field? That is totally weird, and exactly the sort of thing one would expect to find at the old man’s place. Usually he doesn’t go through the small hole in the fence around the strange old man’s property, but he wanted to see what stunk. The air smells bad it was the smell that drew him at first. The grass below is so green he thinks it might be glowing.