See t op and get some er.’

    No, ter . ell er gives you typhoid.’

    I already yped foot.’

    I remember.’

    Yeaayed in t room  on t t so I was bald-headed.’

    I bet  least ten miles from tooo.’

    I sure am ty, Mick said. And  you got in t sack for lunch?’

    Cold liver pudding and chicken salad sandwiches and pie.’

    ts a good picnic dinner. S s. I got te little packages of salt and pepper. And sander. Everything wrapped in oil paper.

    And paper napkins.’

    I didnt intend for you to bring anyt o a store soon and get cold drinks.’

    to tation store.  in aer t glare tore seemed dark. tacked e meat, cans of oil, and sacks of meal. Flies buzzed over a big, sticky jar of

    loose candy on ter.

    ? kind of drinks you got? harry asked.

    toreman started to name t good in ter.

    I  a ce Ne any of them?’

    Ditto,  two.’

    No,  a minute.  a bottle of beer if you can treat as   it y to drink beer—but maybe  suddenly ed to be a sport. After t ser face. t on teps in front of tore.

    Micks legs ired t them jumped.

    Stle ook a long, cold pull. Across ty field of grass, and beyond t a fringe of pine rees   black. t blue.

    I like beer, so sop bread do. I like to lick salt out my tle to myself Ive ever had.’

    t s t tastes good.’

    toreman said it oo go.  in t sun again. alking loud and  laug any reason.

    Gos sun makes me dizzy. But I sure do feel good, he said.

    I cant