A forlorn sigh issued from one of the mounds. There was a slight turbulence under the blanket as one of the sleepers rolled out from under it. He was clad in long winter underwear, the drop seat gaping. He knelt for a moment by the side of the bed, then, holding the mattress with huge pawlike hands, rose painfully to his feet and turned to see what was bothering him. Walter leaped to the floor next to him.

“Why, Walter!” he cried in a dinky voice. He yawned and shook his head like a horse bothered by flies. “Why, you’ve stopped by to see us! Wake up, Herbie. Our only nephew’s here. Who’s that? You’ve brought a friend? Just smell that creosote! We’ve been shearing all day. Wait…I’ll get a chair for the lady.”

He waddled to the door as Herbie rolled off the other side of the bed. He smiled when he saw Walter, staggered to the tap, turned it on full and smacked his face with handfuls of the water. “Must be late,” he mumbled. George returned to the shed carrying a stool which he placed just behind Annie. “Sit!” he said.

The smell of creosote was powerful but a hideous odor leaked through it, small, secretive, stinging, vaguely sweet, unmistakably sour.

“I see you’re still pleasingly plump,” Walter said. George laughed delightedly, his laugh as thin and childish as his voice.

“I live to eat,” he said. Herbie mumbled something in the corner where he apparently preferred to remain. He’d draped a piece of tarpaulin over himself. “That’s right, Herbie,” George said.

“Here’s my wife, Annie,” Walter said. “We’re going to Yosemite for a few days.”

“That’s nice. A nice little wife. Yosemite’s a big place, not much good for anything.”

“We need some pots and pans and a knife or two. I thought maybe you could loan us some gear. We’ll drop it by on our way back to L.A.”

“Fine,” George said. “Come over to the tool shed and we’ll see what we’ve got.” He picked up the kerosene lamp and Walter and Annie followed him. She looked back and caught sight of Herbie crawling heavily into bed, his eyes already closed.

The tool shed had electricity. George blew out the lamp saying it was no use to waste kerosene. He took a duffel bag from a hook and stretched it out on the floor and began to fill it with saucepans, a coffeepot, a frying pan, knives, cups, and tin dishes. He handed Walter a small ax.