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Show page 145 same cut, except that he had pale blue eyes instead of brown. "This boy's smart," said Milton. "He's Sam B a t i s t e ' s boy. Ain't you, boy?" "Yes s i r . My p a ' s dead." "The youngun here," continued Milton, "his pa died two-three years ago. His ma died when he was born, if I recollect rightly. He's got a married sister a whole lot older'n him, pretty as a heifer. Boy, Jake and me, we'll help you find that cat." Red studied Lonnie and winked at Curly. "If anybody's gonna help him, me and Curly* 11 help him. We like bobcats, and pretty sisters, and good liquor. They make good liquor up your way, kid?" Lonnie walked to a barred window and hung on the window sill. He looked out at simmering trees. Beyond the river was the knoll and General Burnside. He would go back and get General Burnside himself; all he needed was someone to help him escape. No one realized how General Burnside liked to chase birds and game. No one except Preacher Farley realized what a proper name he had, with two streaks of black fur down each side of his face, sideburns like fancy barber work. Lonnie stood at the window until Milton called him and pointed out an empty bunk. "That there little towel is yourn too," he said. Lonnie washed his face and sat on his bunk and studied his dirty feet until supper trays came and Red began passing them out. "Here, kid, take this one." He handed Lonnie a tray with jam on it, adding to it two biscuits from his own. He came and sat beside Lonnie. |