Let's Go Play at the Adams'

about it all. With feminine daintiness she had picked what they called a sandspur and was

cautiously testing its pointedness against the soft ball of her finger.

Silence.

"I mean, I can't shoot him. I can't really even shoot at him." Bobby ceased doodling and

looked up. "Shoot a gun around here at night, and everybody in the neighborhood would

come running."

"No, they wouldn't."

"They'd ask questions." Dianne agreed with Bobby. Sitting a little apart on her towel, she

was with equal feminine daintiness-plucking petals from a black-eyed Susan: He loves me,

he loves me not. It was impossible to imagine Dianne using that particular nursery rhyme

as accompaniment. Whatever alternative thought she had as she pulled remained her own.

"Keep everything locked up tight." "Big deal," Bobby said.

"I wish we could shoot him"-John ignored the sarcasm-"even lay a couple of shots over his

head in the dark. That'd get him."

They all giggled. The imagined sound of the bullet whine-something 1V had made them all

feel expert in-the sprinkling of severed twigs from overhead, the 164

sudden scurrying of night animals around the campsite-amused them. It would be enough

surely to make any ill-at-ease, itinerant Picker leave his temporary home and take off

through the night, yelling for mercy. The pictured flight was funny. They endlessly invented

new plights-falling in the marsh, getting stuck in the briars, stepping on a snake, etc.-that

would accompany his flight.

"And then get run over by a car!" Cindy's laugh had a silvery, bright mirth to it.

"Yeah, but that's not what's going to happen."

Only Bobby was morose.

"No," Dianne said. "Well, keep all the lights on that you can. No one will notice them out

here."

"All night?"

"I wish it was you that bad to stay here," Bobby

said. He took in the whole group. "Alone with her."

"Me?" Cindy was offended. "No. Her."

"Oh." Agreement.

Talk dropped. It seemed so peaceful by the river that their entire present situation vis-a-vis

the world seemed all but imaginary. Tonight they would all eat well and (except for Bobby

and -Cindy) bask in parental affection and approval. It was difficult-it was nearly

impossible-to realize that this was what was real and their home lives were now completely

irrelevant. They had willed it so. -

At length John said, "The creek runs up by where he bas his fire .... "

"So what?"

"I don't know, I guess-" John cupped his chin in his hand reflectively. "Maybe if I pushed up

there in my rowboat, I could keep an eye on him. For a while anyhow."

"What good would that do?" Bobby said.

"Maybe scare him!" Cindy was still on the blood scent.

"Hey, yeah." Bobby looked at his little sister in 165

'/

surprise. "If you could chunk a few big rocks in from behind, he might have something else

to think about."

Now it was John's tum to consider the dangers to himself. He frowned. He knew well enough

the darkness and the bugs and the water sounds and the rattling bushes and the crackling

of years of leaves and twigs that could betray anyone in the woods. "Yeah, maybe."

"It might make him mad," Dianne said thought-

fully.

"Or chase him toward the house," Bobby agreed. "Naw-w-w."

"I wish-"

"What?"

"I wish there was a way to blame it all on him,"

Dianne said. (He loves me not.).

"Blame what all?"

"Oh-her. Everything," Dianne seemed distant. "Barbara?"

"Umnn."

"You couldn't do that."

"I just said I wished," Dianne tossed the denuded flower aside and snapped off another.

"That's all."

"This isn't doing us any good." Bobby-his own

problem still came first-sighed.

"Maybe nothing'll happen .. " "Yeah. Maybe."

"I got it," John rolled over and sat up brushing the sand fron his chest.

"What?"

"What if we got the guns and all went up there now?"

"Why?''

"Well," John was disappointed at the Jack of uptake, "if he was back there, we might scare

him off a little. If he wasn't, we could kick the place up a little bit and make it plain

somebody'd been up there and found out about him."

"Now?"

"Well,. the rest of us've got to go home pretty soon .... "

166

Bobby tightened his lips thoughtfully. It was clear he didn't have much enthusiasm for the

project.

"Anyhow, if he isn't there, it'd make you feel a

little bit better, wouldn't it?"

"Yeah. If be isn't." "And even if he is."

Bobby picked up a handful of sand and threw it down again. "Aw-w-w, he wouldn't be

scared of a bunch of kids like us. You know we wouldn't really shoot him. Even if we wanted

to."

"He doesn't know it."

"Sure he does. What'd most likely happen is that he'd take our guns away, and then

where'd we be?"

"There's no way he can take my gun away." John

stood up suddenly.

"It's not yours." "The one I use then."

"You ought to take Paul, too, if you go," Dianne said mildly.

"Paul?"

"He can shoot. He goes with our father. He likes to shoot."