"I'm ready. But if we're going to Glory Rock, why can't we drive to the
mouth of Coon Valley?"
"You promised to do this my way."
There must be nothing to warn Carl Thornton away--if he came--and fresh
tracks leading up Coon Valley might do just that.
Loring Blade said, "I suppose I might as well be a complete jackass as a
partial one. We'll walk."
They went out into the cold night, while the north wind fanned their
cheeks and trees sighed around them. A deer snorted and bounded away,
and there came an angry hiss from a weasel that, having all but cornered
the rabbit it was hunting, expressed its hatred for humans before it
fled from them.