Jaybird woke early, refreshed after nine hours of dreamless sleep, oblivious to his baby sister's 3 A.M. feeding. It would be another hour before the morning sun popped up over the eastern hills, but enough light from the gray dawn filtered through the two small curtained windows to allow Jaybird to see what he needed to see. Phil was right, it was not a good idea to run away from home without a shirt. He found his favorite T-shirt, the one with the two Cardinals sitting on opposite ends of a baseball bat. It was a souvenir from the 1934 World's Series; his Uncle George had bought it for him. The shirt felt good against his skin in the cool morning air. Jaybird paused to look at his sleeping parents ... why was his dad always talking about tanning his hide? He looked at his sleeping baby sister... he had to admit she was kind of cute. Maybe he would come back after they all had time to miss him. Silently he slipped out of the room.
He helped himself to another slug of milk and three fingers of peanut butter, then carefully opened the screened door and went outside. He crossed the road through a light morning fog and approached Grampa Giessow's store on the corner of Grand and Olive, the only place on Cottage Farm where two roads met. The main road, which extended the length of the Farm was Grand Avenue, named after a well-know St.Louis thoroughfare. Olive Avenue ran a half mile down a hill to a house and actual farm with cows, chickens, horses and all the rest. The store, like almost every other building on Cottage Farm, featured a wide expanse of fine-meshed screen above a four feet creosote covered pine plank wall on one side. Looking through the screen Jaybird could see five booths against the screened wall, and a building-length counter designed to separate customers from the various wares displayed on the other side. Jaybird knew the back door of the store would be secured with a heavy padlock, but he also knew where Grampa Giessow stashed the key across Olive Avenue in the shed which housed his tractor beneath the Fun House. If he was going to be kidnapped he didn't need to do it without peanut butter. He convinced himself that this time it would not be stealing, only borrowing. He would pay it all back when he made his fortune.
Once inside the store Jaybird found a brown paper shopping bag and looked around at the merchandise stacked on shelves, trying to decide what besides peanut butter he needed to take with him. Occupying a prominent position on the back wall of the store, centered between the shelves on both sides, was a gigantic painting of Custer's Last Stand. The colorful reproduction was a source of endless fascination to Jaybird. He had spent hours before this painting studying the infinite detail of men being scalped, and of Indian hordes, their feathered lances flashing, riding in from the distant hills, led by their war-bonneted Chiefs to confront the gallant Custer with his long golden hair standing fast in the center, a sword in one hand and a pistol in the other. Jaybird lingered before the painting, feeling no urgency to be off, puzzled as usual by the Annheuser-Busch logo at the bottom of the elegantly framed picture. The painting was so real to Jaybird that he could hear the screams of agony and the blood-curdling war cries. Grampa Giessow told him that the guy in the black pants kneeling next to "Custard" was "Mustard" and Jaybird always laughed with his grampa at this joke, but secretly he didn't understand why his grampa wanted to make a joke out of Custer's Last Stand which to him appeared to be a very serious matter. At last he stirred and turned from the painting with the usual feeling of resentment towards the Indians.
He selected an entire box of 12 Snicker bars, a package of bubble gum, and a string of firecrackers. He hesitated ... as long as he was borrowing he might as well take more bubble gum ... he was collecting the cards that came with the gum. Each card featured a picture of a baseball player in uniform on one side with the players' statistics for all the years he played on the other. Jaybird was trying to get the entire lineup for the Cardinals and Browns, the two St. Louis teams. His favorite Brown was third baseman Harlond Clift, and his favorite Cardinal was Ducky Joe Medwick. His dad had taken him to Sportsman's Park to see a Cardinal game once, and the image of Medwick viciously attacking a pitch and smashing it into the left field bleachers for a homerun was burned into his memory. Also stuck in his memory was the gigantic scoreboard rising 50 feet above the back of the left field bleachers. You could not think of that scoreboard without thinking of the enormous package of Wheaties, "Breakfast of Champions" painted on one side of the board. Thinking of Wheaties made Jaybird think of Rin. Wheaties may have been the breakfast of champions, but it was also a favorite breakfast of Rin ... did that make Rin a champion? Jaybird wondered if Rin was all right, he didn't see any sign of the dog around their cottage; he took a box of Wheaties from the shelf and put it in his sack.
He considered taking some cigarettes, but decided against it. He had learned all he needed to know about cigarettes. He was tempted to take a can of baked beans. Jaybird loved canned baked beans almost as much as he loved peanut butter, but he wanted to travel light and he didn't have a can opener. Ice cream. Jaybird loved ice cream more than anything. If anything could keep Jaybird from running away it would probably be ice cream. Jaybird slid back the cover on the freezer which held the ice cream and stared with greedy pleasure at the stacks of Duffner Dixie cups, creamsickles, and chocolate covered ice cream bars. It was like a vision of heaven. How could he resist? He selected an orange creamsickle, sat down on the floor, and with his back to the freezer box devoured it. When he had finished the last luscious drop he sat thinking how he could take some ice cream with him, knowing it was not possible. It would only end up a sticky mess. So he settled on taking a single Duffner Dixie cup. He had a plan for that Dixie cup. Now he wanted a Coca Cola.
He slid back the cover on the beverage cooler under the front counter intending to take a bottle of Coca-Cola. Instead he saw neat rows of bottled beer submerged in water containing chunks of floating ice. Jaybird's dad had let him taste his beer one notably hot day and to his surprise, Jaybird liked it better than Coca-Cola. Jaybird was fascinated by the different brands ... Stag, Budweiser, Griesedieck, Falstaff, "The Choicest Product of the Brewer's Art." He thought again of the scoreboard at Sportsman's Park ... on the side opposite the Wheaties sign was an equally large sign that read "Ask first for HYDE PARK the true lager beer." He took a bottle of Hyde Park from the cooler, wrapped it in a towel, and put it in his sack. He was ready to go.
Crossing the playground adjacent to the store, Jaybird stopped in front of the giant sliding board Grampa Giessow had constructed. The slide was 40 feet high, but to Jaybird looking up it seemed to extend into the sky. Forty steps up and Jaybird was at the top catching his breath and surveying the scene. Patches of fog remained hanging in small hollows in the field off to his left where the sun would soon rise over the trees. To his right was a row of silent cottages where vacationing people claimed the extra sleep denied them in the city. Far beyond the cottages, in the remote distance stretching to the horizon, was a whole other world of grazing cattle and fields of corn growing in the fertile bottomland near the Big river. Jaybird sitting on the high slide felt like the king of the world surveying his realm. It was time for the king to claim his reward. Jaybird took a large Duffner Dixie cup from his sack and peeled back the cover. He felt a thrill of joy seeing the brown, white, and pink sections of the neopolitan flavors, chocolate, vanilla, and strawberry. He looked at the cover and saw the smiling face of the movie star Linda Darnell. In addition to his baseball card collection, he also collected movie stars from the covers of Duffner's Dixie cups. He thought of Warner Baxter, Wallace Beery, and his all-time favorite, Tom Mix.
Jaybird saw movement near the three-sided handball court on the far end of the playground. It was his cousin Donnie, and it didn't take long to figure out what he was doing. He was doing what he always did, pitching bottle caps at the back wall of the handball court. Donnie was a year younger than Jaybird, and at the age of nine had decided that when he grew up he would be a major league pitcher for the St.Louis Browns who as everyone knew and for longer than anyone could remember were in greater need of pitchers than any other team in the history of baseball. Donnie had decided that the need was so great that when it was his time to pitch for the Browns, he would provide them with two pitchers ... he would pitch left-handed one day, and right handed the next. So when he practiced by throwing bottle caps, he modeled his style after current Browns lefthander Hillbilly Bildilli and righthander Roxie Lawson. Seeing his cousin throw gave Jaybird an idea.
Donnie stopped at the top of his full windup when he saw Jaybird approaching. "What you doin' Jaybird?" He asked.
"Fixin' to run away from home," Jaybird answered, " you want to come along?"
Donnie went into his Roxie Lawson windup and fired a looping out curve at the handball wall before answering. "Nah," he said, "I don't think so, the last time we ran away I almost starved, and got whipped when we came back."
"This time I got a jar of peanut butter," Jaybird took the jar from his sack and held it up for Donnie to see.
Donnie reached for a handful of bottle caps from a canvass bag near his feet and went into his Hillbilly Bildilli windup. "Why are we runnin' away?" He asked after completing his toss.
"Well, you know," Jaybird said, " you got to run away now and then to make them appreciate you, I just feel like it's time to run away ... you could bring your bottlecaps."
Donnie picked up his bag and said, "Okay, where we goin?"
"To the tree house," Jaybird answered, "let's go." He took off at a quick trot; his cousin Donnie followed.
Thirty minutes later the boys were scrambling along a rocky down slope approaching a tall cedar tree that held what Jaybird had called a tree house. It was a house without a roof, actually nothing more than a rickety platform slapped together with scrap lumber Jaybird had managed to sneak away from some of Grampa Giessow's construction sites. The platform was positioned on one of the tree's first branches, about 20 feet above the ground, and could be reached in one of two ways, either by climbing the knotted rope that was secured to the branch above it, or by climbing up the ladder Jaybird had constructed for that purpose. The rungs of the ladder were 10 two feet lengths of two by four lumber nailed to the tree trunk at two feet intervals rising to the level of the platform. Climbing the ladder to the platform was an adventure all in itself. Donnie had never done it.
"Come on Donnie," Jaybird said, "let's get on up there." He started to climb the rope hand over hand, straddling it with his legs as he went.
Donnie was skeptical. "You sure that thing will hold both of us?" he asked.
Donnie had good reason to be skeptical. The platform was roughly five feet square, made from one by six-inch planks. It was supported by a no more than 4 or 5-inch diameter branch and two 5 feet lengths of two by fours nailed to the tree. It sagged noticeably even without anybody on it.
Jaybird wasn't sure. Up to now he was the only one who had ever been up in the house. "Sure it will," he said over his shoulder, "come on, don't be a sissy." He continued his strenuous ascent and finally crawled out onto the platform. He called down to his cousin. "Donnie, I'm going to lower a rope, I want you to secure it to that paper sack with all my stuff in it, so I can haul that stuff up here, I don't want to leave it down there where all the critters could get it."
When Jaybird pulled his sack onto the platform he once again called down. "Come on up, Donnie, there's a great view from up here."
Donnie was not convinced. "I think I'll just stay down here, Jaybird," he said.
Jaybird had a surprise in store for his cousin and really wanted him to come up onto the platform with him. "Come on, Donnie, don't be afraid," he pleaded, "I've got something special to show you if you come up. It's easy ... you can do it. Come on."
Reluctantly, Donnie put one foot on the lowest rung and pulled himself up. He stood for a moment with both feet on the lowest rung, two feet above the ground and looked up at Jaybird on the platform above him. Jaybird, looking over the edge, smiled broadly and said, "See how easy it is ... come on, keep going."
Slowly and carefully, Donnie began to climb and finally made it to the top rung, which was higher than the platform; all he had to do now was step onto the platform to join Jaybird.
"Don't look down," said Jaybird. "Here, take my hand." From a sitting position Jaybird offered a helping hand to his uncertain cousin. Donnie took Jaybird's hand, sank to his knees and crawled onto the platform.
The two boys smiled at each other. Donnie in particular was pleased with himself... he had climbed a mountain. The view was not as great as Jaybird had claimed; they were a long way from the top of the trees, but there were a few things to see. They could see the mountain stream and the small waterfall behind which was the hideout. Jaybird looked to see if he could spot Rin. "Rin got himself chewed up by wolves," he said.
"No kidding ," said Donnie, "is he okay?"
"I left him down there at the hideout the yesterday morning," answered Jaybird, "we had to put a splint and a poultice on his back leg." He paused. "Maybe we should go on down there and see if he's still there. He didn't come home last night."
" You said you had something special to show me up here," said Donnie.
Jaybird smiled. "I do." He reached for his sack of treasures.
Donnies' eyes were shining. "What all you got in there Jaybird?"
Jaybird grinned. "Look at this," he said, and held up the package of firecrackers.
"Firecrackers!" exclaimed Donnie excitedly.
"Right," said Jaybird, "we're goin' to play a game." He reached into the sack and pulled out a book of matches and a length of punk.
"We're goin' to play a game with firecrackers?" Donnie was puzzled.
"Right," said Jaybird, "here's how it works ..." He unwrapped the package of 20 firecrackers and spread them out on the platform. Next he struck a match and lighted the punk.
Donnie drew back apprehensively. The firecrackers were two inches long with a one-inch fuse; they looked harmless enough lying there in neat rows on the platform, but Donnie had seen firecrackers like that blow a tin can two feet into the air. "What you goin' to do Jaybird?"
Jaybird picked up a firecracker, lighted the fuse with the smoldering punk, dropped it over the side, and began to count. When he reached eight the firecracker on the ground exploded with a loud bang that echoed over the surrounding hills. Jaybird grinned.
Donnie was puzzled. "I don't get it Jaybird," he said, "what kind of a game is that?"
Jaybird held up his hand. "Hold on, Donnie," he said, "here's the rest of it ... the idea is to hold the firecracker long enough so that it explodes before it hits the ground ... like an aerial bombardment. Get it?"
Donnie shook his head. "So what's the game? In a game somebody wins and somebody loses. This don't look like a game to me."
"We can make it a game," said Jaybird. "We each get 10 firecrackers. The one who gets the most air explosions wins."
Donnie was dubious. "You're crazy Jaybird ... are you telling me you're goin' to hold a lighted firecracker in your hand and count up to some number before you let it drop? You ain't goin' to get me in that game. I give up, you win ... what's the prize?"
Jaybird grinned again. "The prize is two Snicker bars," he said. Donnie loved Snicker bars and Jaybird knew it.
"Where you getting' the Snicker bars?"
"They're right here in this sack," Jaybird said. He reached into the sack and brought out the box of 12 Snicker bars.
Donnie's eyes lighted up. "Wow," he said, "a whole box of Snickers ... where'd you get `em Jaybird?"
Jaybird shook his head. "It don't matter where I got `em, does it? You goin' to play?"
Donnie looked at the firecrackers laid out before him on the platform. "I don't know Jaybird," he said, "how do we know they all burn the same? What if one burns too fast? You want one of them things to go off in your hand?"
Jaybird shrugged. "No, come on Donnie, don't be such a ninny. ... Here, let's try another one." He picked up another firecracker. "The first one went off at the count of eight, right?" He lighted the fuse, held the firecracker at arms length and began to count. Donnie pulled back in fright.
"... Three, four," Jaybird dropped the firecracker over the side, "five , six, seven ..." the firecracker exploded a few feet above the ground. Jaybird spread his arms with his palms up and looked at Donnie with arched eyebrows, "See?" he said, "nothin' to it."
Donnie was not convinced. "I ain't goin' to hold a lit firecracker in my hand, Jaybird ... it's nuts."
"You want to just light one and throw it over?" Jaybird asked.
Donnie thought about it. Neither Jaybird nor Donnie could explain the odd satisfaction of being the one who set off the explosion, but they both sensed it. Somehow the explosion carried more weight if you were the one who set it off. Donnie picked up one of the firecrackers. He held it for a moment, then took the smoldering punk from Jaybird, lighted the fuse and quickly tossed it over the side. Jaybird started the count. This one had a slow fuse, when Jaybird got to ten he looked at Donnie with widened eyes, and was about to comment when the explosion finally came.
"See?" said Donnie, "they're not all the same."
Jaybird picked up another firecracker, lighted it and began to count, but an odd thing happened when his count reached three ... Jaybird heard the crack of a rifle. Then with the suddenness of doom, two things happened ... a .22 caliber slug struck the tree trunk above the boy's heads, and the firecracker exploded in Jaybird's hand.
Jaybird didn't know what hit him. Blood from his shattered hand splattered on his face as it also did onto Donnie's face. Jaybird cried out in pain. Donnie cried out in shock and terror.
On the ground from behind a bush Phil cried out in command. "Git on down from there you yellow Huns before I put a bullet through your gutless bellies."
Jaybird stared at his left hand in disbelief, seeing blood drip from between his index and middle fingers which were split by the force of the blast. Later he would wonder at the fact that he didn't cry, and that he had had the presence of mind to take the towel wrapped around the beer bottle from his sack and wrap his hand in it. It was equally implausible given the haze of pain and shock he felt that he realized it was Phil who had taken a pot shot at them and was down there playing the war game again.
Phil yelled again from behind his bush. "You hear me up there? I'm goin' to count to three, and if I don't see somebody climbin' down from that there tree, I'm goin' to start shootin'. You hear me up there?"
Donnie called out. "Don't shoot! We're just kids! Don't shoot!"
"One!" Phil shouted.
Jaybird yelled, "Don't shoot, Phil, we ain't the enemy!"
"Two!" Phil bellowed louder.
"Wait, Phil, it's me, Jaybird!"
Phil sighted along his rifle. He hesitated. "Jaybird?"
Jaybird leaned over the side of the platform and shouted, "I'm wounded."
Phil lowered his rifle. "What you doin' up there with them Huns, Jaybird?"
Donnie listened to this shouted conversation in bewilderment. "Who's Phil?" he asked.
"He's a guy I know," Jaybird muttered through his pain. "He likes to play war."
Donnie liked to play war as well as the next guy, but he didn't like the idea of somebody shooting real bullets at him. "It ain't a game, Jaybird, that guy might just kill us."
"Are you a prisoner, Jaybird?" Phil called.
Donnie yelled, "They ain't no Germans up here."
"Then who's droppin' them bombs?" Phil shouted.
"Them wasn't bombs, they was firecrackers, and one went off in Jaybird's hand ... he's hurt bad," yelled Donnie.
Phil stood up and walked from behind the bush to Jaybird and Donnie's tree. He stood looking up for a few moments, his mind working furiously. "I'm comin' up," he said at last.
The tree house was a kid's house, not made for adults, even ones as skinny as Phil, and it certainly was not sturdy enough to hold three people, even three kids. But Phil was undaunted, and before Jaybird or Donnie could make their protests heard he was half way up the knotted rope shinnying rapidly as if something was about to grab him from behind.
"Don't come out here," said Jaybird when Phil had pulled himself up to the level of the platform, " it won't hold you."
Phil stood on the limb holding onto the rope with one hand. "Let me see your hand, Jaybird," he said.
Jaybird clutched the towel around his left hand tightly, wincing with pain. "I'm tryin' to stop the bleeding," he said. Blood stains seeped through the white towel.
"We goin' to get you to a doctor," said Phil, "but first we got to get you down out of this here tree."
Under normal conditions getting down from the tree house was much easier than getting up, but Jaybird would have to do it with no hands since he could not grip anything with his damaged hand and his other hand was occupied squeezing the towel to stop the bleeding.
Phil looked at Donnie. "Who are you?" he demanded..
Phil was a frightful sight to Donnie. His black floppy hat was gone so he stood there with long stringy hair hanging down over his eyes, which combined with his bushy black beard made him look more like an ape than a man. Donnie looked at Jaybird who shrugged and said, "It's Phil."
Donnie looked back at Phil wondering why he had only one sleeve."I'm Jaybird's cousin, Donnie," he said.
"Okay kid," said Phil, "here's what we goin' to do. See this here rope I'm hangin' on to? We goin' to tie it up under Jaybird's arms and then we goin' to lower him to the ground. He cain't be all that heavy, it ought to be easy." He sat down straddling the branch he had been standing on and handed the rope to Donnie. "Tie it up under his arms." he ordered.
Donnie took the rope from Phil and looked at Jaybird who was beginning to turn very pale. Donnie saw perspiration beads forming on Jaybird's forehead. Jaybird began to shiver even though it was very warm in the early July sunshine. Jaybird looked at Donnie oddly, as if he didn't recognize him, then suddenly, with no apparent concern for where the vomit was headed, began to throw up violently.
Phil exclaimed, "It's shock! He's goin' into shock ... we cain't move him."
Donnie was distressed. "Is Jaybird goin' to die?" he asked.
Phil did not answer. He had seen a man die from shock. He had witnessed terrible accidents involving farm machinery, and once had seen a man lose all the fingers on one hand in a sawmill accident. He crawled slowly and cautiously out onto the platform that creaked ominously under the weight of himself and the two boys. Phil was taking charge. "Sit over here kid," he ordered Donnie, pointing to a spot on the platform, "we got to get Jaybird's feet up so some blood will go to his head. Sit with your knees up and we'll put his feet up onto your knees. Got it?"
Jaybird lay on his back taking short irregular breaths. He did not lose consciousness, but seemed only vaguely aware of what was happening. "I'm thirsty," he whispered.
Phil shook his head. "We ain't got no water up here," he said, "let me have a look at that hand." He reached for the hand enclosed in the bloody towel and gently removed the towel. Phil winced at the sight of the shredded flesh and the white shiny bones visible on both the index and middle fingers. Most of the bleeding had stopped. He removed his shirt and tucked it around Jaybird's chest and shoulders.
Jaybird whispered through chattering teeth, "Thanks, Phil ...I thought you drowned."
Phil responded, "I thought you drowned, too."
"Did you get that big ol' catfish?" Jaybird asked.
Phil shook his head. "Naw," he said, "I was lucky to make it back to shore ... ahm thinkin' about learnin' how to swim."
"They's a Hyde Park in that there sack, Phil," said Jaybird, "I shore could use a drink."
Phil reached in the sack and found the long-necked brown bottle of Hyde Park beer. He held it up to the light and said, "It's still cool. Did you steal this here Hyde Park Jaybird?"
Jaybird shook his head. "No. Only borrowed it. Can you get it open? I shore could use a drink."
Phil held the bottle firmly in his left hand and positioned the edge of the cap against the side of one of the platform's wooden planks. He then struck the cap a strong blow with the heel of his right hand. The cap popped off and a stream of white foam rose from the top of the bottle. Phil smiled and held the bottle to Jaybird's lips while supporting the stricken boy's head with his right hand. Jaybird took a long drink, gulping three times.
"Good. Good," said Phil, "we goin' to get you back on your feet in no time. Now let me see if I can fix that hand up... I don't think you ought to look at it, Jaybird."
"It's gone numb, Phil, I cain't feel nothin' in it."
Phil lifted the damaged hand gently and asked, "Can you feel that Jaybird?"
Jaybird shook his head, "I cain't feel nothin' ."
"Okay," said Phil, "Ahm goin' to put a bandage on that there hand, but before I do I need to get you down to that stream so's we can get that there hand cleaned up a bit. You reckon you could climb down from this here tree?"
Jaybird tried to sit up, but felt dizzy from the effort and lay back down. "I don't feel too good, Phil," he said and closed his eyes.
Phil nodded. "It's okay. You just stay there and rest."
Phil helped himself to a generous draught of the Hyde Park, smacked his lips, and offered the bottle to Donnie. Donnie took a drink, screwed up his face, and said, "Phew! That stuff is bitter."
"You're to young to appreciate it, kid. Wait about 10 years," said Phil.
"You look like an ape," said Donnie.
Phil brushed the hair away from his eyes and fixed Donnie with a baleful stare. For a long time he did not say anything. Donnie thought he heard a small grunt. At last Phil said softly, "Maybe I am."
"How do you know Jaybird?" Donnie asked.
"We was in the war together," answered Phil.
Donnie shook his head. "But Jaybird is only 10 years old," he said.
"And wounded again," said Phil, "we got to get him to a doctor, I think one of them fingers is broke, maybe both."
Donnie shook his head. "They ain't no doctors at Cottage Farm," he said.
"They's a horse doctor over by Ware," said Phil.
Donnie shook his head again. "Ware's a long way from here, how we goin' to get there?"
Jaybird lifted his head. "We could take a boat down river to Morse's Mill," he said.
Phil and Donnie looked at Jaybird. "You ever done that Jaybird?" asked Phil, then added, "is Morse's Mill in enemy hands?"
Donnie had an idea. "Maybe we should just go on back home, Jaybird. They could take you in a car to DeSoto. I bet they got doctors in DeSoto."
Jaybird shook his head. "If I go back home, my dad's goin' to tan my hide for sure when I tell him what happened."
"You feelin' better now Jaybird?" asked Phil.
Jaybird sat up. "I'm still thirsty," he said.
Phil handed him the bottle of Hyde Park. Jaybird took a long drink, then sat for a while waiting to see if his head was clear. He looked at his hand ... it was beginning to throb with pain. "It's startin' to hurt, Phil," he said, then added, "it don't look too good does it?"
"Come on," said Phil, "let's get on down out of this tree and get that hand bandaged. Can you make it Jaybird?"
"I think so," said Jaybird and reached for the rope.
But Donnie beat him to it. He grabbed the rope and swiftly slid down to the ground. "I'm goin' for help," he yelled over his shoulder as he headed up the trail at a quick trot.
Jaybird called out to him, "Wait a minute, Donnie."
Donnie stopped running and looked back at Jaybird still up on the platform. "You comin' with me Jaybird?" he asked.
Jaybird was torn. On the one hand he thought about the sympathy he would get from his mom and grandma, but on the other hand he knew that his dad and grandpa would be very angry at him for taking the stuff from the store, and that they would ridicule him for being stupid enough to let a firecracker explode in his hand. He looked at Phil. "Do you think it was stupid to let a firecracker explode in my hand?" he asked.
Phil did not answer right away. Instead he took another drink from the Hyde Park bottle, then thought a moment. "Ah'll tell you what ah think Jaybird," he said, " ... it goes back to when ah once saw a grenade go off in a soldier's hand. It wa'n't because he was stupid, it was because he weren't lucky. It was his bad luck to pick up a grenade with a short fuse. I reckon it was the same with you and that firecracker Jaybird, you just wa'n't lucky."
Jaybird knew his dad wouldn't think like that. It was an easy decision. "I ain't goin' back," he said to Donnie.
"You runnin' away for good, Jaybird?" asked Donnie, "who's goin' to fix your hand?"
Jaybird again looked at Phil. Phil nodded. "Come on," he said, "we goin' to put a Witch Hazel poultice on that there hand." He slid quickly down the rope.
Jaybird followed, carefully clinging to the rope with his knees and hanging on with his good hand. When he made it to the ground, Donnie was waiting for him. "How about it, Jaybird? You runnin' away for good?"
"I reckon I am," said Jaybird.
Donnie said, "Jaybird, I think you ought to come back with me. You got to get that hand fixed by a doctor, and you ain't goin' to find no doctor out here in the woods."
Jaybird looked at Phil who was leaning against the cedar tree holding the tree house. "What do you think, Phil?" he asked. "Should I go back?"
Phil shrugged. "You could," he said, "or you could go with me."
Jaybird asked, "Where you goin'?"
"I don't rightly know."
"I think you should come on back with me, Jaybird," urged Donnie.
"I want them to think I been kidnapped," Jaybird said.
"You ain't been kidnapped, Jaybird," said Phil.
"Why?" Donnie asked Jaybird.
"I heard my mom say they's a killer on the loose in these hills," said Jaybird, " maybe if they think I been kidnapped ..." his voice trailed off.
Donnie's eyes widened. "A killer on the loose?" He looked at Phil and started to back away.
Phil's eyes brightened. "If they's a killer on the loose, maybe you and me could track him down, Jaybird. He's probly one of them Krauts we been fightin'."
Donnie took off running up the trail. "I'm headin' back, Jaybird," he called over his shoulder.
"Come on Jaybird," said Phil, "let's get on down to the creek and get that hand fixed up ... how does it feel?" Before Jaybird could answer, Phil remembered something. He struck his forehead with the palm of his hand and said, "Ah plum forgot to tell you Jaybird ... your dog is down there by that cave."
Jaybird momentarily forgot about his throbbing hand. Even though it had only been some 24 hours since they left Rin to run the trotline, so much had happened that it seemed much longer. "Is he okay?"
"Ah think he's healin' up pretty good," said Phil, "he can get around okay. Did you tell that dog to wait when you left him yesterday?"
"Yes I did," remembered Jaybird. "But I didn't think he would wait this long."
"You got that dog trained pretty good, Jaybird, he was there waitin' when I got back," said Phil.
Jaybird remembered Phil clutching the bush trying to pull himself up onto the bank. "How did you get back across the river?" he asked.
Phil had a question for Jaybird, too. "Ah'll tell you what happened to me if you tell me what happened to you." He said. "The last ah saw you was in that old leaky boat floatin' down river hell bent for glory."
"I was luckier than the boat," said Jaybird. "You shoulda seen that old boat come apart when she hit them rocks. She just split right down the middle, but I ended up in the water without getting' my head cracked... it musta been just plain old dumb luck." Jaybird remembered how he felt in the water after the boat crashed. "I wasn't ever afraid," he said, "in fact it was fun ." Then he remembered something else. "Did you ever have any Turkey Buzzards take you for dead meat?"
"Not so's I can recall," answered Phil, "what's that got to do with the river?"
"I passed out after I hit shore, " said Jaybird, "when I came to they was two Turkey Buzzards struttin' around, givin' me the evil eye. "
Phil laughed. "That's pretty good Jaybird," he said, "but ah'll tell you what ... if ah was a Turkey Buzzard, ah think ahd be lookin' for somethin' besides a scrawny kid."
"Me too," said Jaybird. "So what about you? How did you get back across the river?"
"You ever been up that river around the bend?" Phil asked but did not wait for Jaybird to answer, "the river gets mighty narrow up around that bend. And shallow too. Ah just waited `till it calmed down some, then just waded across. Didn't take but a few hours for that river to get back to normal ... it weren't like a spring flood ... just a summer storm."
Later, after a joyous reunion with Rin who almost wagged his tail off when he saw Jaybird, they sat by the fast running cool mountain stream, Jaybird with his feet and his damaged hand in the water. He had a question. "Did you ever kill anybody, Phil?" he asked.
Phil cocked his head to one side and scratched his bearded chin. "You know somethin' Jaybird," he said, "that's a real good question."
Jaybird waited for Phil to answer the question, but when after a decent interval he did not, Jaybird asked, "Well, did you?"
Phil looked at Jaybird curiously. "Did I what?"
"Kill anybody."
"You mean anybody besides German soldiers?"
"Did you actually kill any German soldiers?"
"You know somethin' Jaybird, to tell the truth I ain't really sure, although I dang sure shot at a plenty of `em."
Jaybird had another question. "Are you runnin' away too, Phil?" he asked.
Phil stood up. "Let's get that there hand wrapped up, Jaybird," he said. Jaybird didn't know if Phil heard his question or decided to ignore it.
Phil had been scrubbing Jaybird's bloody towel against a rock in the fast running stream. The towel was not a thick bath towel, it was more like just a thin piece of cloth that might be used for a bar rag, which in fact is what it was. Phil twisted it tightly trying to ring all the water out of it, then cut it into a series of thin strips with a sharp Bowie knife he took from a holster at his belt. "Can you move them fingers, Jaybird?" he asked.
Jaybird held up his hand, which felt better after the cool mountain stream soak. He held his thumb against his middle finger, looked at the extended index finger and slowly moved it up and down. Phil nodded his head in approval. "Good," he said, "now the other one."
Jaybird next held his index finger against his thumb and tried to move the middle finger. "Ouch," he cried. "It hurts, Phil ... look at that, you can actually see the bone."
"Ah think it's broke," said Phil, "ahm goin' to put a splint on it."
Phil soaked the towel strips in Witch Hazel and wrapped both fingers separately in spiral fashion like puttees. He then cut a Hickory stick, positioned it under Jaybird's damaged middle finger, and wrapped both fingers together. When he finished he examined his handiwork proudly. "That should hold it for a spell," he said, "but you know what, Jaybird ... we got to get you to a doctor."
"We're a long way from a doctor, Phil," said Jaybird.
Phil nodded. "That's so," he said, "we better get movin'"
"Where we goin'?" asked Jaybird.
"To Morse's Mill," answered Phil.