They semi-roughed it near Dwyer, Ontario and came home with a deer, some tall tales about life in the wilds and four chinsful of whiskers.
Around eight I stopped feeding the fire and started carrying coffeepotfuls of water to douse the ashes.
All that came bubbling up from his memory, seeping through remembrances of long winter nights suffering with the predead stench of the human sties the Yankees called prison cells at Rock Island in Illinois.
A silly coot
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