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- Стр. 135/409
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"
Go
on
and
bury
your
animal
,
"
he
said
.
"
I
'm
gon
na
have
a
smoke
.
I
'd
help
you
,
but
you
got
to
do
it
yourself
.
Each
buries
his
own
.
That
's
the
way
it
was
done
then
.
"
"
Jud
,
what
's
this
all
about
?
Why
did
you
bring
me
here
?
"
"
Because
you
saved
Norma
's
life
,
"
Jud
said
,
and
although
he
sounded
sincere
--
and
Louis
was
positive
he
believed
himself
sincere
--
he
had
a
sudden
,
overpowering
sense
that
the
man
was
lying
...
or
that
he
was
being
lied
to
and
then
passing
the
lie
on
to
Louis
.
He
remembered
that
look
he
had
seen
,
or
thought
he
had
seen
,
in
Jud
's
eye
.
But
up
here
none
of
that
seemed
to
matter
.
The
wind
mattered
more
,
pushing
freely
around
him
in
that
steady
river
,
lifting
his
hair
from
his
brow
and
off
his
ears
.
Jud
sat
down
with
his
back
against
one
of
the
trees
,
cupped
his
hands
around
a
match
,
and
lit
a
Chesterfield
.
"
You
want
to
rest
a
bit
before
you
start
?
"
"
No
,
I
'm
okay
,
"
Louis
said
.
He
could
have
pursued
the
questions
,
but
he
found
he
did
n't
really
care
to
.
This
felt
wrong
but
it
also
felt
right
,
and
he
decided
to
let
that
be
enough
...
for
now
.
There
was
really
only
one
thing
he
needed
to
know
.
"
Will
I
really
be
able
to
dig
him
a
grave
?
The
soil
looks
thin
.
"
Louis
nodded
toward
the
place
where
the
rock
pushed
out
of
the
ground
at
the
edge
of
the
steps
.
Jud
nodded
slowly
.
"
Ayuh
,
"
he
said
.
"
Soil
's
thin
,
all
right
.
But
soil
deep
enough
to
grow
grass
is
generally
deep
enough
to
bury
in
,
Louis
.
And
people
have
been
burying
here
for
a
long
,
long
time
.
You
wo
n't
find
it
any
too
easy
,
though
.
"
Nor
did
he
.
The
ground
was
stony
and
hard
,
and
very
quickly
he
saw
that
he
was
going
to
need
the
pick
to
dig
the
grave
deep
enough
to
hold
Church
.
So
he
began
to
alternate
,
first
using
the
pick
to
loosen
the
hard
earth
and
stones
,
then
the
shovel
to
dig
out
what
he
had
loosened
.
His
hands
began
to
hurt
.
His
body
began
to
warm
up
again
.
He
felt
a
strong
,
unquestionable
need
to
do
a
good
job
.
He
began
to
hum
under
his
breath
,
something
he
sometimes
did
when
suturing
a
wound
.
Sometimes
the
pick
would
strike
a
rock
hard
enough
to
flash
sparks
,
and
the
shiver
would
travel
up
the
wooden
haft
to
vibrate
in
his
hands
.
He
could
feel
blisters
forming
on
his
palms
and
did
n't
care
,
although
he
was
,
like
most
doctors
,
usually
careful
of
his
hands
.
Above
and
around
him
,
the
wind
sang
and
sang
,
playing
a
tree-note
melody
.
Counterpointing
this
he
heard
the
soft
drop
and
chunk
of
rock
.
He
looked
over
his
shoulder
and
saw
Jud
,
hunkered
down
and
pulling
out
the
bigger
rocks
he
had
dug
up
,
making
a
heap
of
them
.
