The noise came again. Maybe it didn't really sound like sacks shifting around in the van. I don't know. I was in a hurry to get home. It had been a long day.
I was driving. Joe squirmed around and peered through the rear window of the cab but could see nothing. "Stop the truck," he said.
"What for?"
"'Cause I don't like that noise. Something's going on back there."
"Sure," I said, grinning, "our farmer's a shrewdie. His boys are back there and they're eating up all the potatoes."
"Very funny. Just stop the damn truck."
I turned my head and looked at Joe's face. He was scared. Maybe he had one of those premonitions you read about. I shrugged and found a widened stretch of road shoulder and pulled the big semi up. Joe hopped out of the cab and went around back. After a while I heard the rear doors swing open. Then they closed again and Joe came back. I hadn't heard him stomping around inside the van or anything.
"Sacks shifting around like I said?" I asked.
Joe's face was white in the dash light. He shook his head.
"Harry," he said. That's my name. Harry. "Harry, we was tricked."