Stories
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Mostly we hiked around in the Palisades. And it was not that far from Hannibal Missouri a couple hundred miles, Mark Twain's river town and the cave where Injun Joe was locked in lost, the iron door cave's entrance bolted shut from the outside. Because up in these crags there were vents - shafts in the rocks where cold air breezed out from deep perhaps caverns. But Injun Joe had murdered Dr. Robinson so come-uppance was a cave in.
We were the whole gang, out one afternoon in the warm shady tree cool moss and leaf, hiking on the steep slopes with Hegel, Smitty, Thor, Murry, GlenD, Baldwin, Badger, myself of course and maybe another or two when think it was Thor dislodged a small boulder.
And it began to tumble - ta-tum took a big hop tumble tum - and picked up speed thru the thicket past the trees, when it bounded off the Palisades cliff with a long silence and then Poof ! hit the highway below pulverized, and the sudden scream-screech of brakes, an auto slamed halt !
Dead silence we did not move. A car door opened. A car door closed - close call. We waited crouched in the under-brush blue sky, intermittent thru the trees toward the river. Nothing, no sound, until finally we heard a car door open and car door close, an engine start up and a drive away. It was a close call !
I suppose I had a tent-mate but don't remember who. I was but a tenderfoot in the boy-scouts the lowest rank. But I had a good tent with mosquito netting my mother bought me probably from Sears.
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