Call hoped to save the plank where Gus had written his own name, but the rope he had tied the body with had rubbed out most of the lettering. He ate with them, thanked them again, and left under a rising moon. When he got there they were rolling on the ground, both red in the face but doing one another no harm. He tried a long shot at a deer but missed.
When he lay on his back the hot sun beat right down in his face, giving him a hard headache. In fact, the sign was not much more than a collection of splinters, two of which Call got in his hand as he was untying Gus. The third morning he could barely make himself move. He could scare himself to the point where his breath came short, just imagining the great thick beans.
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