“Ooooh, oh, oh, I wanna go to the mine,” says Blendin. “I’ve always dreamt of being a miner! Days spent beneath the earth! Talking to moles! Working with your hands!”

Mabel pats Blendin on the shoulder. “What a strange man you are,” she says with a smile.

“Well, hopefully the prospector in the mine has the Time Key!” says Dipper.

The group loads up pack mules and heads out of town.

A dry wind stirs the air as they approach the mine in silence.

The place looks abandoned.

“It’s sure nice out here,” says Dipper. “You know, before traffic and screeching technology, you could really just take in the silen—”

BLAM!

The mules startle at the sound of a gunshot.

They take cover behind a rock.

In the entrance to the mine, a wily old prospector with a long beard and floppy hat emerges from the shadows holding a six-shooter. He looks very familiar….

“Old Man McGucket?” asks Dipper.

“Naw, my name is Jugsley!” screeches the prospector in a voice almost identical to McGucket’s. “But we hillbilly types all look mighty alike, so I don’t blame ya for the mistake!” He peers at them skeptically. “Who are ye? Claim jumpers? Panhandlers? Armadillos dressed up in man-clothes?” He fires into the air again, then dances a wild jig and makes nonsensical hooting sounds.

Blendin and Dipper look at each other.

Mabel steps forward. “Hi, there. Mabel here,” she says. “First let me say your hat looks amazing.”

The prospector lowers the weapon. “I’m listening,” he says.

“We’re not claim jumpers, we promise,” she says. “We have no interest in taking any of your gold or silver…or…” She looks around. “What do you mine here?”

“Boron!” he says, slapping his knee.

“Right. We definitely want none of whatever that is,” says Mabel. “We’re looking for a key. A worthless old key that some friends told us may have been traded to you.”

The prospector gives them a discerning look.

“Why, that’s right…did the man happen to wear all manner of puffy flamboyant clothing, and a beard with clocks in it?”

“Yup!” Mabel says to Jugsley. “Sounds about right!”

“Well, flapjack my haystack!” he says. “Such a fellow came in here and traded me the key you seek! Come on in!” Jugsley leads them inside the boron mine. There are piles of clothes, pocket watches, and hats in all sizes and shapes.

“Something looks very suspicious about all this,” Blendin whispers to the twins.

“Yeah, where did all this stuff come from?” Mabel whispers.

“And what happened to its owners?” whispers Dipper. “Come to notice it, Jugsley seems to be blinking and involuntarily swallowing a lot.”

Blendin grips Dipper and Mabel. “Time to go,” he whispers.

The twins exchange glances.

Jugsley has led them to a fork in the mine. “The key you’re looking for is right down there in that dark, foreboding pit,” he says. He gestures to a short tunnel ending in a pit.

Dipper and Mabel gulp.

“Are you sure about that?” asks Dipper. “Wouldn’t you rather have us go down that other tunnel? You know…the one with bright lanterns that looks like it actually goes somewhere?”

The prospector grins with wild eyes. “Nope,” he says. “Go down the one on the right. Ain’t nothing bad ever happened to no one who went down there! Ignore all them human-looking booooones!” He lets out a cackle and licks his lips.

The friends squeeze together into a huddle.

“Guys, this horrifying whack job is the dictionary definition of untrustworthy,” says Dipper. “He’s probably going to knock us out with a pickax and steal our stuff or something.”

“Yeah, he gives me the willies,” says Blendin. “And I would know! In high school, I was voted most likely to give strangers the willies!”

“C’mon, guys, if I’ve learned anything out here, it’s that you should never make the obvious choice,” says Mabel.

“Should we trust this maniac or insist on going the other way?” asks Blendin.

Well? What should they do?!

TRUST THE PROSPECTOR: GO HERE GO THE OTHER WAY: GO HERE