Why, sure.
And a new unit was formed. The dusk came, but before the dark was down the new family was of the camp. A word had been passed with every family. They were known people—good people.
I knowed the Allens all my life. Simon Allen, ol’ Simon, had trouble with his first wife. She was part Cherokee. Purty as—as a black colt. Sure, an’ young Simon, he married a Rudolph, didn’t he? That’s what I thought. They went to live in Enid an’ done well—real well. Only Allen that ever done well. Got a garage.
When the water was carried and the wood cut, the children walked shyly, cautiously among the tents. And they made elaborate acquaintanceship gestures. A boy stopped near another boy and studied a stone, picked it up, examined it closely, spat on it, and rubbed it clean and inspected it until he forced the other to demand, What you got there?
And casually, Nothin’. Jus’ a rock.
Well, what you lookin’ at it like that for?
Thought I seen gold in it.
How’d you know? Gold ain’t gold, it’s black in a rock.
Sure, ever’body knows that.
I bet it’s fool’s gold, an’ you figgered it was gold.