“Looks like you was playin’ muskrat.”
“Well, I was.” He edged gradually away toward the bank; he moved casually, and then he leaped out, gathered his clothes with a sweep of his arms, and was gone among the willows.
Tom laughed quietly. And then he heard his name called shrilly.
“Tom, oh, Tom!” He sat up in the water and whistled through his teeth, a piercing whistle with a loop on the end. The willows shook, and Ruthie stood looking at him.
“Ma wants you,” she said. “Ma wants you right away.”
“Awright.” He stood up and strode through the water to the shore; and Ruthie looked with interest and amazement at his naked body.
Tom, seeing the direction of her eyes, said, “Run on now. Git!” And Ruthie ran. Tom heard her calling excitedly for Winfield as she went. He put the hot clothes on his cool, wet body and he walked slowly up through the willows toward the tent.
Ma had started a fire of dry willow twigs, and she had a pan of water heating. She looked relieved when she saw him.
“What’s a matter, Ma?” he asked.
“I was scairt,” she said. “They was a policeman here. He says we can’t stay here. I was scairt he talked to you. I was scairt you’d hit him if he talked to you.”