Paul followed along. "I bought us two cans of beans," he offered, not knowing what to say.
"Ain't goin' to need 'em," Grandpa said gruffly; then he turned to look at Paul. "They might taste real good, though, come to think of it."
[Chapter 9]
WAITING FOR THE WHIRLYBIRD
Getting home was rough going and agonizingly slow. The horses plodded through the water when they could, and swam when they had to. Paul and Grandpa stopped once to let them blow. Then they pressed on, man and creature eager for Home.
Almost there, Paul saw the higher ground of Pony Ranch with the buildings still standing brave and whole—the cottage, its green roof darkened by the rain, the made-over chicken coop and the hay house and the smokehouse—but they looked littler than before, and somehow frightened, with the sea creeping up on them.