| Description |
THE 3ISH0P'S WATERMELON PATCH Carolyn Cook Christensen Box 356 Gunnison, Utah 8465^ "Non-Erofessional Division Second. Place Short Story Andrew ran across the newly reaped wheat field. It felt dry and priekly on his well-conditioned bare feet. Sweat dripped down bis face. It was then he realized where they were and stopped short. "Hey, Chris! I know where we can find a fine watermelon patch," he said as he pulled up the one strap which held up his ¦¦Andrew! That would be stealing," said Chris, forming his lips Into a frown. '¦Oh, they won't Bind if we eat just one. I'm thirsty," said Andrew as he ran in the direction of his delectable dream. "Wait for me!" called Chris, and his eleven-year-old legs soon leaped far ahead. Sometimes it was no advantage being only seven, Andrew thought. At the top of the rise, there it was. Andrew had never seen as large or as many watermelon in all his born daysi Chris looked around and when he was sure no one was in sight told AMrew to choose the best one. At last Andrew thumped one that sounded hollow. Chris found a large rock and the melon was dropped onto it. It burst open and they sat down to enjoy their plunder. They had just finished the last juicy mouthful and stretched out under a large oak tree when jI 1 at once a voice seemed to come from nowhere. "Hey there! What are you doin'?" Andrew felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise to the top of his head. There was JIjh Whitlock on his black mare staring down like a cor.ky rooster. "NothinV said Chris, his face turning bright pink. Jim laughed. He spied the rinds scattered about and sat upright on his horse. "You're In Bishop Cllsen's melon patch and I'm goin' to tell your Ha." With that he pulled up the reins, forcing the snorting horse's head high in the air. He turned and fled. Andrew looked at Chris. The grandeur of the moment had turned sour as a pickle. Ha would be tough to reckon with, thought Andrew. She would not take this lightly. -im_ |
