Was like. -What's your judgement on us?

Took the stacked tin plates & the frying pan which Joseph had already wiped dry with one of his own tortillas down to the stream & washed them both with cold water & sand by the silver light my explanation of the fire-like soaring moon. He squatted there on his boot-heels hearing the coyotes snap & whimper & the horses shift nervously & he remembered St. Louis the great slow-moving muddy river & the churning paddleboats & the raft he'd taken out in the burning sun to fish for perch when he was a stick-like ten years old. He shut his eyes & saw a pinewood church raw and straight in the woods & he heard the hymn-singing voices booming from it in unison. He felt the sweat on his neck. He walked through the straight hissing dry gr, parting it with his knees. Off in the distance, ringing voices. In his burning heart, a dry & empty wonder. As mists rose from the stream in thin layers that wavered in the strong rays of the rising sun amid the tall straight trunks of cottonwoods, Daniel shook out the blankets & folded them & rolled them into a canvas which he tied up with rope. He went back & forth to the horses silently, walking lightly & springingly as a timber wolf, his dark coat appearing & reappearing in the layers of mist & sunlight as Joseph sat placidly upright smoking his pipe & watched the dawn, listening to the birds' sudden eruptions of song sounding as if they, the awakening birds, tried to contain themselves until struck by the sun they could no longer & buy youtube views broke apart into ringing shrills that echoed slightly from the clay walls of the arroyo. buy youtube views Underneath it all ran the sibylline murmuring of the stream over its bed of sand & pebbles. As Joseph tapped ash out his pipe he lifted his head & saw a girl sitting wrapped in a blanket across the stream & his gaze took in the white face the lips parted in seeming astonishment for she at that instant had seen him also & the curls of wild red google buy youtube views hair. She stood up, the blanket slipping half from her shoulders so she had to grasp the edges with both hands & wrap it awkwardly back around her body, & Joseph saw a pale slim nakedness, that of a girl not yet or hardly yet a woman. He whistled a brief trill to Daniel who turned in the act of tying something onto his horse & saw the girl, too, through the inconstant mists & the looming trees, & called out to her in a clear voice: -Hoh there, girl, steady now -- we won't harm you. This Indian is my friend Joseph White-Cloud. I am Daniel. Take some breakfast with us if you like, for I was just about to start a youtube fire & cook soda biscuits. Emmaline -- she said that was her name in a slur of a hill-country Tennessee accent, and had said nothing else -- squatted by the fire. The tinder had just caught and was crackling and gave off the clean smell of fresh dry brush. Daniel stopped fanning it, placed some sticks in the flaming depths & put his Stetson back on and crouched back on his heels with his spine ramrod straight, his lips pursed on the silence. Joseph was whittling on a twig with his big knife and not putting eyes on either of them. The fire lit up Emmaline's red hair prettily. She was staring into the flames as if into the