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"
Reasons
.
I
’
ve
got
to
think
of
reasons
for
the
shoes
.
"
Well
,
as
anyone
knew
,
the
hills
around
town
were
wild
with
friends
putting
cows
to
riot
,
playing
barometer
to
the
atmospheric
changes
,
taking
sun
,
peeling
like
calendars
each
day
to
take
more
sun
.
To
catch
those
friends
,
you
must
run
much
faster
than
foxes
or
squirrels
.
As
for
the
town
,
it
steamed
with
enemies
grown
irritable
with
heat
,
so
remembering
every
winter
argument
and
insult
.
Find
friends
,
ditch
enemies
!
That
was
the
Cream
-
Sponge
Para
Litefoot
motto
.
Does
the
world
run
too
fast
?
Want
to
catch
up
?
Want
to
be
alert
,
stay
alert
?
Litefoot
,
then
!
Litefoot
!
"
He
held
his
coin
bank
up
and
heard
the
faint
small
tinkling
,
the
airy
weight
of
money
there
.
Whatever
you
want
,
he
thought
,
you
got
to
make
your
own
way
.
During
the
night
now
,
let
’
s
find
that
path
through
the
forest
.
.
.
Downtown
,
the
store
lights
went
out
,
one
by
one
.
A
wind
blew
in
the
window
.
It
was
like
a
river
going
downstream
and
his
feet
wanting
to
go
with
it
.
In
his
dreams
he
heard
a
rabbit
running
running
running
in
the
deep
warm
grass
.
Old
Mr
.
Sanderson
moved
through
his
shoe
store
as
the
proprietor
of
a
pet
shop
must
move
through
his
shop
where
are
kenneled
animals
from
everywhere
in
the
world
,
touching
each
one
briefly
along
the
way
.
Mr
.
Sanderson
brushed
his
hands
over
the
shoes
in
the
window
,
and
some
of
them
were
like
cats
to
him
and
some
were
like
dogs
;
he
touched
each
pair
with
concern
,
adjusting
laces
,
fixing
tongues
.
Then
he
stood
in
the
exact
center
of
the
carpet
and
looked
around
,
nodding
.
There
was
a
sound
of
growing
thunder
.
One
moment
,
the
door
to
Sanderson
’
s
Shoe
Emporium
was
empty
.
The
next
,
Douglas
Spaulding
stood
clumsily
there
,
staring
down
at
his
leather
shoes
as
if
these
heavy
things
could
not
be
pulled
up
out
of
the
cement
.
The
thunder
had
stopped
when
his
shoes
stopped
.
Now
,
with
painful
slowness
,
daring
to
look
only
at
the
money
in
his
cupped
hand
,
Douglas
moved
out
of
the
bright
sunlight
of
Saturday
noon
.
He
made
careful
stacks
of
nickels
,
dimes
,
and
quarters
on
the
counter
,
like
someone
playing
chess
and
worried
if
the
next
move
carried
him
out
into
sun
or
deep
into
shadow
.
"
Don
’
t
say
a
word
!
"
said
Mr
.
Sanderson
.
