The spot got the wet slops thrown from the kitchen door, keeping the ground damp even in dry weather and making a natural home for earthworms. Leon required only minutes to fill a jar with earth and worms enough for their purpose. A hundred yards away Floyd sawed logs with a regular, unconcerned rhythm, as if he intended to be at it all day. Not by an eye’s flick did he appear to notice when Leon went into the near barn and presently emerged with two fishing poles, held so close together they might have looked one at a distance.

But when the saw had cut through the log he worked on, Floyd paused to rest a minute, wiped his face lightly with his shirt sleeve and sighed. Leon was going away. Already he was across the wash-yard area and entering the safer ground of the outhouses, which were screened by huge, stalky sunflowers, all in full, protective bloom. Floyd then set the saw casually to one side and looked about. No one appeared to pay him the least mind.

Then as he strolled past her, Clovis looked at him and smiled in a way that made him know she had watched the whole game. Laughing, he ran into the sunflowers and was gone. Leon waited a little beyond and handed Floyd his pole as they set off for the thick woods.

As soon as they entered, they paused to enjoy being there. Both boys were barefoot. They savored the cool of the sudden shade on their bodies, the cool of damp, black ground under their hot feet. Setting off suddenly with unspoken agreement, they took a winding path well known to both of them, Leon carrying his pole in his right hand, and Floyd his in his left, both poles maneuvered more or less parallel to the ground so that they would not catch in the foliage above.

They walked fifteen minutes before coming to the fishing bank they currently preferred to others, having paused on the way once to urinate carefully off the path. Another time they lingered to watch butterflies hovering over a plant that looked to be sickly festering, its top leaves having turned a pulpy white that evidently created a smell that drew the pretty insects, whose wings beat the hot still air caressingly.

There was no sand bar on the place they chose. The bank dropped straight down to dark water. No plants growing on the bottom reached above the surface. The water looked indeed bottomless, although they knew exactly how deep it was, having tested it frequently over the years with poles. They stood quietly for a bit, listening. A humming-singing sound began that might have been from one voice or a thousand.