I don’t remember where we walked. My mind was on something else. You can bet it was. So I just tagged Catty and we walked around aimless like—or that’s the way it seemed to me—for about seven hours. I began to feel for long whiskers on my chin, because it seemed as if I’d been inside that barb wire long enough to be at least seventy years old. Another night like the last one and Methuselah wouldn’t have a year on me.
Then, all of a sudden, a man came bearing down on us, and he looked awful belligerent.
“Hey, you,” says he. “Where you think you’re goin’?”
“Who?... Us?” says Catty, kind of like he was about two-thirds of half witted.
“Yes, you.”
“We’re lookin’ for somebody,” says Catty.
“Well, you’ve found him. I’m him....” He made a grab for our collars. “How’d you git here?”
“Oh,” says Catty, “we just come.”
“Huh.... Well, now you’re goin’ to just go,” he says, and his voice was mean. I didn’t like it at all. You could tell by it that his toe was itching to get acquainted with the seat of somebody’s pants.
“You’re him?” says Catty. “Then we can deliver our message.”