Part 19 (2/2)
”Not warm enough,” said Harky, who was astounded to discover that there was something more pleasant than looking for c.o.o.ns' dens. ”I'll warm you some more. And call me Harky, huh?”
”Aren't we going to climb to Old Joe's den?” she asked shyly.
”Best not tonight,” said Harky, who wouldn't have considered abandoning what he was doing for a dozen Old Joes. ”We have to get you warm. Will you come c.o.o.n hunting with me again, Melinda?”
”I'm afraid not, Harky,” she said in a troubled voice.
”Why?”
”I simply cannot go anywhere too often with any boy who lets his father's corn stand in the shock when it should be brought in and husked.”
”I'll bring it in,” Harky promised recklessly. ”I won't do a lick of hunting until it's all in and husked! How about a kiss, Melinda?”
”Oh, Harky!”
”Please!”
”M-mmm!”
It occurred to Harky, but only very vaguely, that Miss Cathby's foothold in the Creeping Hills was too solid ever to dislodge. But let what may happen. In years to come, Old Joe would still prowl on Willow Brook, hounds of Precious Sue's lineage would trail him, and Mundees would follow the hounds. Nothing could stop any part of it.
Harky had a feeling.
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