“ Me? ” Sully was aghast. “Harry, I can't swim!”
“Who said you was gonna swim?” Harry shouted at him. “Put it on — we gotta test it, don't we?”
Sully fumbled unhappily with the gear. “I don't know how, Harry, I don't know how. I don't like this thing.”
“The kid'll show you.” He moved the shotgun. “Go on, put it on him. And you'd better make it right.”
With open reluctance, Gary took the mask from the skinny man's fingers and slipped it over his head, adjusting the straps on his back and fastening the metal box at his waist. He pulled the fittings tight until the gear was snugly in place. Sully stood there, arms akimbo, looking goggle-eyed through the eye-pieces.
“Make him breathe.”
“I fixed it. He is breathing.”
Harry watched for a moment. “All right — now down to the river.”
The four of them moved across the field and approached the river, Gary and Sully in the lead with the shotgun held to their backs. The third member of the trio trailed along without a word. The ground became soft and soggy near the stream and they floundered through it, Gary holding onto the skinny one's arm to keep him from falling. He hoped there were no prowlers about to overhear the noise they were making, for his weapons were hidden in the field behind him and the present safety of the four of them depended on the marksmanship of the man with the shotgun. He wanted to get back and get his own weapons before danger could find them. At the water's edge the party halted.
The river wasn't so wide at this point. Gary flung a glance toward the Minnesota shore but saw no patrolling sentries. They could hide themselves easily in the near-darkness.