The guard flicked off his flashlight and leaned one arm on the lowered window. He seemed hungry for talk. "Funny thing," he said, "about the telephone calls comin' in from all over the countryside. Mostly they're from children. It's not folks they're worried about. It's the ponies. 'Specially Misty. Yeah," he laughed, "she's their prime concern."
"Mine, too!" Paul said.
Unmindful of the drizzle, the guard went on. "By the way, how's everybody over at Wallops?"
Grandpa coughed. "They're all hankerin' fer home."
"Wal, maybe it won't be long now. The Mayor got through to Washington, and they're sending four big 'copters tomorrow to work with you and Tom on liftin' the dead ponies." In a routine manner he went around to the back of the truck and flashed his light inside. "Any stowaways?" he asked jokingly.
Grandpa matched the joking tone. "Yup, we got two."
After an interminable silence the soldier's laughter filled the night. "Wal, I'll be a billy goat's whiskers if ye 'ain't got a nanny and her kid! How's the missus going to like that?"
"I figger she's going to feel mighty close to 'em," Grandpa chuckled.
"Why? How's that?"
Suddenly Grandpa panicked. The sweat came cold on his forehead. He cut off the dashlight so his face would be in the dark. He couldn't speak.