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‘Heck, Doug, the ravine’s nice but I know a better place The graveyard The sun’ll be gone It’ll remind ’em if they’re not careful, that’s where we’ll all wind up’

‘Good thinking, Tom’

‘Well, I’e, then the graveyard, yup?’

‘Tom, you’re really somethin’’

‘Alas,’ said Tom ‘Alas’

He jammed his pencil in his shirt pocket, stashed his nickel tablet in the waistband of his dungarees, and saluted his commander

‘Dismissed!’

And Tom ran

CHAPTER TEN

The green acreage of the old cemetery was filled with stones and names on stones Not only the names of the people earthed over with sod and flowers, but the naes here Suranite Autu And snow had laid its cold hand on winter marble But nohat the seasons had to say was only a cool whisper in the tree of names: ‘TYSON! BOWMAN! STEVENS!’

Douglas leap–frogged TYSON, danced on BOWMAN, and circled STEVENS

The graveyard was cool with old deaths, old stones grown in far Italian reen tunnel, under skies too bright in summer, too sad in winter

Douglas stared The entire territory swarmed with ancient terrors and dooms The Great Army stood around his in the rushing air ran lost in the high elms and maples And did they feel all that? Did they hear the autus on the ht which sparked each stone with light specules where fresh yellow butterflies had once rested to dry their wings and noere gone

Douglas led his suddenly disquieted mob into a further land of stillness and made them tie a bandanna over his eyes; his mouth, isolated, smiled all to itself

Groping, he laid hands on a to