May 23rd, 1869

Things have progressed significantly since my previous entry. I will attempt to boil it down in a reasonable manner. I've become better aquainted with Benjamin, to the point where he invited me to his home for dinner a few nights ago. I gained better information from him with fewer ears around to listen. As it turns out, he was friends with Mitch Pents when he was still working in the mines. Mr. Pents will soon be fired from his position if he does not return. Benjamin did have some interesting things to tell me about him, though. He told me the story of why Mitch is refusing to enter the mines. All of this is alleged, as it comes from the perspective of a scared, uneducated man. Mitch has said that it was some kind of beast that attacked Ralph. He spoke of a rancid smelling beast that flashed with golden light out of the corner of his eye. A beast that made ear splitting screeches as it tore into Ralph. I believe that by this description, it was likely an incident involving explosives of some kind. It wouldn't be so far-fetched to assume that another miner set off firecrackers to take the attention off himself, while he turned Ralph's own knife and axe on him. I proposed this theory to Benjamin, and he agreed. I have a feeling he has an idea of who could be the culprit, but I don’t dare ask him yet. That will be for a later conversation. I have a suspect in mind as well. Benjamin did not have much of an opinion on the lack of gold in the mines recently. He talked some of the “idiotic higher-ups digging in the wrong place,” which I found to be rather rude. Otherwise it was a very casual dinner.

Since my last entry, much has happened in the mines. Some miners found a strange liquid coating the wall of a tunnel. They thought it was a mucous of some kind, but it was just condensation. The rumours of a beast within the mine are still running rampant. I've gathered further intel on what legends these made-up creatures stem from. Some believe there are vengeful, savage spirits roaming the tunnels, looking to seek revenge for battles fought long ago. Others believe it's a beast from the forest, cursed to suffer below the earth. I believe that it is falling rocks and groaning scaffolding.

Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.

The nasty fellow called Joe has taken a serious dislike to me. I don’t think he's intelligent enough to figure out who I truly am, but I must take every precaution nonetheless. He throws scowls between strikes with his pickaxe, and he spits at anyone who looks at him whenever he can get the chance. He's rather disgusting, and I believe his mother never taught him to wash, if he even had a mother at all. She surely would have taught him better if he had. He's currently my number one suspect for Ralph's attacker, and some of the more sensible miners seem to agree. Folks avoid the man like the plague, and I have eavesdropped on talk that does not reflect well on him. It takes no stretch of the imagination to think that he would beat a man senseless over small matters.

My Father has been rather impatient with this entire ordeal. He only sees a direct, rough approach to getting the truth out of these men, while I prefer a more subtle technique. He doesn't understand that the miners have their own code of honour, and he underestimates their stupidity when it comes to detective work. They would rather blame a fictional beast than do the real work to find the criminal. Whether that is a result of stupidity or laziness I do not know. I have held off my Father's pressing for now, but time is of the essence. I must act quickly, but without alarming the miners. It has proven to be a delicate balance, but I am a talented man.

I do hope to be finished with this mission soon. I truly despise the shack that I have been put up in. The wind constantly whistles, and tree branches scrape at the ivy on the walls. It creates a horrific sound in the dead of night. The ivy is overgrown, and nearly bursting through gaps in the windows. The house becomes unbearably hot and cold, constantly transitioning from one to another in the span of one night. Things fall off of every surface and roll about due to the lean of the entire building. Not even pictures will stay on the walls. I truly despise it, and I long to return to the luxuries of my normal residence.

Until next time.