Pete set up a chair. Sat. Waited. Late afternoon, he saw it again: a small, pink-nosed mole poking from the dirt. Not digging. Just staring.
When Pete approached, the mole darted away, but the next morning, there was a new hole. Right in the same place.
Pete finally grabbed a shovel, not to kill it, but to see what the heck it was doing. That’s when he noticed something strange: a faint, squeaking sound coming from underground.