“No,” I said. “I intend to camp out somewhere.” I saw he was bothered.
“I’ll be all right,” I said. “I’m not scared of the mountains.” He looked at me and at my pups.
Taking off his hat, he scratched his head. Chuckling deep down in his barrel-like chest, he said, “Yes, I guess you will be all right.
Well, good-bye and good luck! If you’re ever in town again look me up.”
From far down the street, I looked back. The marshal was still standing where I had left him.
He waved his hand. I waved back. On the outskirts of town, I stopped and picked up a can and my provisions.
I hadn’t gone far before I realized that I had undertaken a tough job. The sack became heavier and heavier.
For a while my pups cried and whimpered. They had long since pulled their heads back in the sack.
I would peek in at them every once in a while. They were doing all right.
Curled up into two little round balls on my bundles, they were fast asleep.
Deep in the heart of the Sparrow Hawk Mountains, night overtook me.
There, in a cave with a stream close by, I put up for the night.
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