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Show page 140 never be beautiful. His forehead x>7as too narrow. His ears were too large. But he was finely boned, and slender. His eyes were green, with what knoll folks call loneliness wrinkles, eye xvrinkles caused by looking straight into the sun. But his eyes were sharp, as was everything about him. His teeth were firm and even. His patched overalls and tattered shirt didn't count; on the knoll every male wore patched overalls and tattered shirt. He accepted his clothes in the same manner that he accepted the fact that he had had to stake out the bobcat in lonely brush. The main thing was to be intensely alive, practical and comprehensive, to give chase to small game and birds; this was life, something grox;mups didn't understand. "You might as well tell me where the cat is," Posh said. "Ain't no need of being stubborn. You already caused me to miss my fishing," "He belongs to me," Lonnie said. Posh said no more, but at intervals glanced at his prisoner. Lonnie relaxed and tried to retain in his mind every part of the country. He became bold enough to look around the interior of the car. "What you looking, at, boy?" "Nothing." "You c a l l my fishing gear nothing?" "Ain't nothing compared to a good hunting bobcat." "That beats a l l . I a i n ' t never heard of anybody hunting with a bobcat. What kind of birds don't f l y , boy?" |
