Wiley and Trixie ran up in the thick of the dust cloud. He
was hollering and waving his arms; she was barking at every
breath.
"Did y'all see it? Did y'all see it? What kind was it,
Grandpa? Could you tell? Didn't it have a funny gasoline tank?
Mama, lem'me go to the store! Will you? It's bound to stop, and I
could see it up close. Can I go? Can I, Mama?"
Wiley was gasping for breath as he talked.
"Son, you couldn't run all the way from here to your papa's
store. It's a mile, and you're out of wind already!"
"No'm, I got plenty of wind. And I ain't gonna run. I'll ride
Dale. Please, Mama! Please?"
"I don't think-"
"Why don't you let him go, Nannie? If I was ten years
younger, I'd go myself!"
"Well, all right."
"Hot diggity!" Wiley gave a whoop and lit out toward the
barn.
"That's it, son! Light a shuck!" Grandpa called after him.
"Bandershanks, open the well-lot gate," Wiley hollered back,
"and I'll dance at your wedding!"
Grandpa said, "Come on, sugar, I'll give you a hand with that
dilapidated old gate; you couldn't budge it.
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