“Well, I sure was scairt the whole way, figgerin’ she’d bust down an’ it’d be my fault.”
“No, you done good. Better get her in shape, ’cause tomorra we’re goin’ out lookin’ for work.”
“She’ll roll,” said Al. “Don’t you worry none about that.” He took out a pocket knife and scraped the points of the spark plug.
Tom walked around the side of the tent, and he found Casy sitting on the earth, wisely regarding one bare foot. Tom sat down heavily beside him. “Think she’s gonna work?”
“What?” asked Casy.
“Them toes of yourn.”
“Oh! Jus’ settin’ here a-thinkin’.”
“You always get good an’ comf’table for it,” said Tom.
Casy waggled his big toe up and his second toe down, and he smiled quietly. “Hard enough for a fella to think ’thout kinkin’ hisself up to do it.”
“Ain’t heard a peep outa you for days,” said Tom. “Thinkin’ all the time?”