“No,” said Aron. “I don’t want to fight.”

“Afraid to fight?”

“No. I just don’t want to.”

“If I was to say you was scared, would you want to call me a liar?”

“No.”

“Then you’re scared, aren’t you?”

“I guess so.”

Aron wandered slowly away, leaving the rabbit on the ground. His eyes were very wide and he had a beautiful soft mouth. The width between his blue eyes gave him an expression of angelic innocence. His hair was fine and golden. The sun seemed to light up the top of his head.

He was puzzled—but he was often puzzled. He knew his brother was getting at something, but he didn’t know what. Cal was an enigma to him. He could not follow the reasoning of his brother, and he was always surprised at the tangents it took.

Cal looked more like Adam. His hair was dark brown. He was bigger than his brother, bigger of bone, heavier in the shoulder, and his jaw had the square sternness of Adam’s jaw. Cal’s eyes were brown and watchful, and sometimes they sparkled as though they were black. But Cal’s hands were very small for the size of the rest of him. The fingers were short and slender, the nails delicate. Cal protected his hands. There were few things that could make him cry, but a cut finger was one of them. He never ventured with his hands, never touched an insect or carried a snake about. And in a fight he picked up a rock or a stick to fight with.

As Cal watched his brother walking away from him there was a small sure smile on his lips. He called, “Aron, wait for me!”

When he caught up with his brother he held out the rabbit. “You can carry it,” he said kindly, putting his arm around his brother’s shoulders. “Don’t be mad with me.”

“You always want to fight,” said Aron.

“No, I don’t. I was only making a joke.”

“Were you?”

“Sure. Look—you can carry the rabbit. And we’ll start back now if you want.”

Aron smiled at last. He was always relieved when his brother let the tension go. The two boys trudged up out of the river bottom and up the crumbling cliff to the level land. Aron’s right trouser leg was well bloodied from the rabbit.

Cal said, “They’ll be surprised we got a rabbit. If Father’s home, let’s give it to him. He likes a rabbit for his supper.”

“All right,” Aron said happily. “Tell you what. We’ll both give it to him and we won’t say which one hit it.”

“All right, if you want to,” said Cal.

They walked along in silence for a time and then Cal said, “All this is our land—way to hell over the river.”

“It’s Father’s.”

“Yes, but when he dies it’s going to be ours.”

This was a new thought to Aron. “What do you mean, when he dies?”

“Everybody dies,” said Cal. “Like Mr. Hamilton. He died.”

“Oh, yes,” Aron said. “Yes, he died.” He couldn’t connect the two—the dead Mr. Hamilton and the live father.

“They put him in a box and then they dig a hole and put the box in,” said Cal.

“I know that.” Aron wanted to change the subject, to think of something else.

Cal said, “I know a secret.”

“What is it?”

“You’d tell.”

“No, I wouldn’t, if you said not.”

“I don’t know if I ought.”

“Tell me,” Aron begged.

“You won’t tell?”

“No, I won’t.”

Cal said, “Where do you think our mother is?”

“She’s dead.”

“No, she isn’t.”

“She is too.”

“She ran away,” said Cal. “I heard some men talking.”

“They were liars.”

“She ran away,” said Cal. “You won’t tell I told you?”

“I don’t believe it,” said Aron. “Father said she was in Heaven.”

Cal said quietly, “Pretty soon I’m going to run away and find her. I’ll bring her back.”

“Where did the men. say she is?”

“I don’t know, but I’ll find her.”

“She’s in Heaven,” said Aron. “Why would Father tell a lie?” He looked at his brother, begging him silently to agree. Cal didn’t answer him. “Don’t you think she’s in Heaven with the angels?” Aron insisted. And when Cal still did not answer, “Who were the men who said it?”

“Just some men. In the post office at King City. They didn’t think I could hear. But I got good ears. Lee says I can hear the grass grow.”

Aron said, “What would she want to run away for?”

“How do I know? Maybe she didn’t like us.”

Aron inspected this heresy. “No,” he said. “The men were liars. Father said she’s in Heaven. And you know how he don’t like to talk about her.”

“Maybe that’s because she ran away.”

“No. I asked Lee. Know what Lee said? Lee said, ‘Your mother loved you and she still does.’ And Lee gave me a star to look at. He said maybe that was our mother and she would love us as long as that light was there. Do you think Lee is a liar?” Through his gathering tears Aron could see his brother’s eyes, hard and reasonable. There were no tears in Cal’s eyes.