Before long I had deerskin pants, as did Boris. He thought that pockets were the shits.Boris was a master of the swamp. I asked him if he had found an... gray or white clay. He nodded and brought back my Dutch oven filled with good, creamy white clay. He watched carefully as I tore off a section and formed it into a little clay lamp with a flat bottom and a flat lip to hold the wick. I made a good half dozen of them, then while the lamps sat and dried to a leathery stage, I dug a pit, fired it to. He wasn't at all sure how well he'd hold up. They were both silent for a few minutes, then Al asked. "Did you call your friend in San Diego?" Yes, I called her yesterday. I'm going to leave right after the funeral. It's about an eight-hour drive down there. I should get in before midnight. I'm sure I won't be sleepy after the funeral."Again they lapsed into silence. Each was thinking about the ordeal to come, and knowing they couldn't avoid it. Al could see that Linda was giving in to the grief. More

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