“I used to go camping when I was young and there was nothing else to occupy me. You’ll need some blankets. These smell of sheep, but they’ll do. The sleeping bags wore out, Walter. I’ve got some hand lines around here someplace. You like to fish, missus? I hope you got long pants. It’s cold this time of year. You got a job, Walter?”

“I will have.”

“You get to see your dad?” George looked at him steadily as Walter shook his head.

“You shouldn’t be so hard on him. We all get old. You’re the only son he’s got.”

“We didn’t choose each other.”

George looked sad. “You ought not to treat a silly fellow as if he was wicked.”

Walter said, “You don’t see him.”

“Well, that’s different. I don’t like him,” said George.

Walter seized the duffel bag and made for the car, George and Annie following. The bag was tossed into the back seat. Walter got in as George opened the door for Annie. “Nice little wife,” he said soothingly. He peered through the window at Walter.

“You and Herbie doing well with the sheep?” Walter asked. He was twisting the choke button with his left hand, his right still held the small ax. Annie removed it from his grip. He gave her a quick uncertain look.

George’s expression of smiling mildness changed. He turned into an egg with painted features. “We make a living,” he said shortly.

“Come on, Uncle,” Walter said. “I bet you’ve got a fortune stowed away.”

George backed away from the car. “On no account talk of such things!” he cried. “Our business is not yours! Runaway! You have removed yourself from this family! And I have just given you eighty dollars’ worth of camping equipment!”

Walter backed violently toward the shed, then shot out onto the road. In the light from the dashboard, his face was pinched and rancorous and, Annie perceived, frightened. How long was it since he had seen those two? What stale cues had set Walter to baiting his uncle, and what accounted for that sudden rage of George’s as he flung his heft about in the weeds like a thrashing animal? Driving now at a speed which shook the little car from side to side, Walter bent over the wheel. Emptiness? The father brooding over bathtub rings, the two old sheep ranchers crawling out of their filthy bed morning after morning…was that Walter’s family? Three old men, two dirty, one clean.

The rain had stopped. A light wind cleared the sky and the moon, looking a bit like Uncle Herbie, fled along the spines of the range of hills at the foot of which they were now traveling. Annie fell into a half-sleep, her head bumping against the window, her legs stiffly drawn up against the seat.