Dastardly

“Shit, there’s two guys over there looking at us,” I say the next morning when Oliver and I are leaving for the trek to the gold, which Oliver promises is there.

  “Where?” asks Oliver, whose eyes couldn’t always see well.

  “There.”

  “Damn.”

  “They’re looking at us pretty closely.”

  “Yell hello or something,” Oliver suggests.

  “Howdy!” I yell.

  “Hi!” they yell back.

  “Have a good hike!”

  “You too!” They called back at me and Oliver and wave goodbye.

  “They was harmless. They aren’t interested in what we’re doing.” Oliver glances at me out of the corner of his eyes. “At least I don’t think so. You didn’t tell nobody what we was doing, did you?”

  “No, but I don’t like the fact we were seen. You never know what people might put together later. I don’t want to find something, some gold, and have to give it to the state.”

  “I hear ya.” Oliver puts his backpack on.