“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t have time!”

“But you could have said anything — I don’t know, you could have said: WATCH OUT! or STOP! or NO! That doesn’t take long. Or you could have said HELP!”

“I’m sorry . . .”

“Or MAMA!”

“Why not MAN AT SEA!” he asked, and burst out laughing.

He had a good laugh, eyes half shut, but stopped when he realized that the girl couldn’t shed her serious expression. He lay there on his back for a moment to see if she wanted to talk or do anything. The sky was deep blue above their heads and pale blue on the horizon where the mountains stood out against it.

The girl got up and dressed in silence.

She didn’t say much for the rest of the afternoon. After the sun had gone down the air became cool, even cold, and Jack looked for a fully equipped campground so they could plug in their little radiator or their electric blanket. At Rock Springs they found a campground that was part of the KOA chain; it was more expensive, but they were sure of being comfortable and the girl would be able to relax and cheer up.

La Grande Sauterelle wasn’t really in a bad mood; rather, she seemed preoccupied and a little sad. They spent the evening reading, each on his own side, and finally Jack got the bed ready and plugged in the electric blanket. It was a blue blanket, double-bed size, and they spread it over the sleeping bags when it was very cold.

Jack explained to the girl that the blanket’s electrical system was divided into two independent parts: each part heated one half of the bed.

“The advantage,” he said, “is that you can plug in half of the blanket if you’re sleeping alone, or both halves if you’re sleeping with another person.”

“Are you saying that because you feel like sleeping alone?” she asked.

“Of course not . . .”

“Sure?”

“Absolutely. Now come on, or you’ll catch cold.”

La Grande Sauterelle got into the bed with him, and he plugged in both halves of the blanket. In a few minutes the cold and damp had given way to a gentle warmth, and for once Jack was soon asleep. He had been still for a good while when suddenly he realized there was something wrong with the girl; she was grumbling and sighing and tossing every two seconds. He asked her what was wrong.

“I’m not even a real Indian,” she said.

“So?” he asked, still half asleep.

At once he regretted his words, because the girl burst out sobbing. He took her in his arms. He told her: “Don’t cry, don’t cry.” He rocked her gently and stroked her hair.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I don’t know why I said that.”

“It doesn’t matter.”