19
Frank, being the crank-pot he was, had gotten fed up with our jabber and once again raced ahead. I had gotten into a post-water-break, beef-jerky-eating stupor and I was just sort of swaying back and forth in the saddle, hypnotized by the white vastness around me and the creaking noises the saddle made as my weight shifted about. Every once in a while, either Merle or Baxter would say something stupid and the other would reply, and back and forth they would go, pestering on each other.
Scout was riding next to me in complete silence. He wasn’t much for jabber, either, but at least he hadn’t run off ahead in a huff.
I was daydreaming about taking a hot bath and getting frisky with Sally when Scout suddenly sat up straight.
Then I heard it. Distant claps of thunder under a cloudless s
