felt before Bill started to talk about it. There was always a way out.
“Let’s take the guns and go down to the point and look for your dad,” Nick said.
“All right.”
Bill took down the two shotguns from the rack on the wall. He opened a box of shells. Nick put on his Mackinaw coat and his shoes. His shoes were stiff from the drying. He was still quite drunk but his head was clear.
“How do you feel?” Nick asked.
“Swell. I’ve just got a good edge on.” Bill was buttoning up his sweater.
“There’s no use getting drunk.”
“No. We ought to get outdoors.”
They stepped out the door. The wind was blowing a gale.
“The birds will lie right down in the grass with this,” Nick said.
They struck down toward the orchard.
“I saw a woodcock this morning,” Bill said.
“Maybe we’ll jump him,” Nick said.
“You can’t shoot in this wind,” Bill said.
Outside now the Marge business was no longer so tragic. It was not even very important. The wind blew everything like that away.
“It’s coming right off the big lake,” Nick said.
Against the wind they heard the thud of a shotgun.
“That’s dad,” Bill said. “He’s down in the swamp.”
“Let’s cut down that way,” Nick said.
“Let’s cut across the lower meadow and see if we jump anything,” Bill said.
“All right,” Nick said.
None of it was important now. The wind blew it out of his head. Still he could always go into town Saturday night. It was a good thing to have in reserve.
