"I'll watch myself," he said.
He felt happy. Nothing was finished. Nothing was ever lost. He would go into town on Saturday. He felt lighter, as he had 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
