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Show JfO 356-THE BULL and the hired man had repaired the old corral and had added to it a new, smaller corral with a loading chute. The boy had loved the camping and the work, cutting and trimming aspen poles, digging post holes, nailing and wiring, sweating pleasandy in the summer sun and laughing wildly at the hired man's jokes. In the off times the hired man had let the boy shoot his 30.30 carbine, in a few days teaching him to shoot better dian the boy's father had managed in months of instruction. Then, while the boy watched, the old bull turned his ponderous horned head. The day before when he had first seen the bull and had felt the impact of his sudden appearance, a curious and strong feeling had stirred in him - awe, joy, pride. And now his excitement rose up again and there in the bright sun he felt such promptings from within to meet the world without that he didn't know what to do. He didn't know that he felt a kind of mild ecstasy; he was hardly aware that what he wanted to do was dance across the meadow, to leap, to sing - such a feeling was too foolish to acknowledge; yet he couldn't help but feel as if anything was possible, love and laughter and lust, the richest response to the world's green riches, and, whistling, he strode erectly back toward camp. His father squatted on one heel to tend to frying potatoes and thick slices of bacon. The smell of the food on the chill morning air, the hired man setting the coffee pot next to the fire to boil, the circle of the fire itself - those things seemed to hold a good portion of the rich sustenance of the world and the boy yearned to step within the circle and become one with the men there, to meet his father in affection and trust, to love him without reserve. For despite all, he did love him, deeply, helplessly, even hopelessly, for he knew no word of affection, no gesture with which to touch him. And then he realized that the man was glancing up at him in a way the boy knew meant he should be doing something, and he looked about him. What? His mind went numb at times like this, he could hardly see. "Don't make no difference, does it?" the man said, shifting from one heel to the other. "Up here or down home in the kitchen, you're bound to spend half your life standing around waiting to eat." The boy fixed his eyes on the ground, feeling his face turn heavy with despair. "Old Stand-around," said his father, coldly amused. |