![]() He was walking between Garraty and Baker. “You know what I’d like to do?” Pearson said. “I sometimes think that’s the worst part.” “We’re all getting this way,” Baker said. He turned up his third canteen of the day and drained it.īaker said: “I’m sorry. His shadow was a deformed huddle almost beneath his feet. He rubbed the back of his neck briefly and stared up into the whitish-blue sky. “Shut up,” Baker said curtly, and Garraty shut. “Force me? FORCE me? He’s KILLING me, that’s all!” “Just relax.” All three of his warnings were gone now. The blue suggestion of a beard patched his face. His eyes were sunk deeper in their sockets. He had grown gaunter in the last few hours. ![]() “I wish the Major would come through,” Baker said pettishly. The guns roared, and a covey of high school boys sitting in the scant shade of a Scout camper applauded briefly. This is where I came in, can’t I leave now? ![]() This is where I came in, Garraty thought, walking around the twitching, mumbling form on the road where the rifles sight in, seeing the jewels of sweat in the exhausted and soon-to-be-dead boy’s hair. And at five minutes to one, another boy Garraty did not know had a sunstroke. Aaronson, I, cramped up in both feet and was shot on the white line, standing like a statue, his face turned up to the sun in neck-straining concentration. Another boy suffered a convulsion and got a ticket as he crawdaddied on the road, making ugly noises around his swallowed tongue. A boy named Tressler, 92, had a sunstroke and was shot as he lay unconscious. Then, around noon, as the day’s heat mounted toward its zenith, the guns began to make themselves heard again. Garraty discovered fresh twinges of pain in his left calf to go with the steady, wooden throbbing that lived in both of his legs, and the low-key agony that was his feet. ![]() They walked, they half-listened to the cheers from the sidelines, and they stared at mile after monotonous mile of piney woods. And the word was that this Walk was sure to go that far.įor a long while-ninety minutes or so-no one at all had been given a ticket. he was terribly afraid there were more than twenty-five miles between Augusta and Freeport), probably two-thirty to the New Hampshire border. They were forty-five miles north of Oldtown, a hundred and twenty-five miles north of Augusta, the state capital, one hundred and fifty to Freeport (or more. “Very good, Northwestern, now here is your ten-point tossup question.”Īt one o’clock, Garraty took inventory again. ![]()
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