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So back out of the milkhouse jumps Tricker and off he goes, dusting back toward his cottonwood like a baby dust devil, with the bear huffing right at his heels like a fullblown tornado. And up the tree he scorches like a house a-fire, with the bear right on his tail like a volcano. Higher and higher climbs Tricker, with the bear's hot breath huffing hotter and hotter, and closer and closer, and higher and higher till there's barely any tree left… then out into the fine fall air Tricker springs, like a little red leaf light on the wind.
And – before the bear thinks better of it – out he springs hisself, like a ten-ton milk tanker over the edge of a straight-down cliff.
"I forgot to mention," Tricker sings out as he grabs the leafy top of that first suntouched hazelnut tree and hangs there, swinging and swaying: "I can also trick."
"ARGHH!" his pursuer answers, plummeting past, "AAARRG -" all the way till he splatters on the hillside like a ripe melon.
When the dust and debris clear back, Sally Snapsister wriggles up from the wrecked remains and says, "I'm out!"
Then Longrellers the Rabbit jumps up and says, "I'm out!"
Then Charlie Charles the Woodchuck pops up and says, "I'm out!"
"I," says Tricker, swinging high in the su
And everybody laughed and the hazelnuts got more and more perfect and the buttermilk just rolled…
down…
the hill.
GOOD FRIDAY
– by Grandma Whittier
Dearest Lord Jesus Christ have mercy on this poor confused tormented and just plain scared-silly old soul down on her bony knees in the dark for the first time in heaven knows how long begging bless me and forgive me but honest to betsy Lord i always figured that for one thing you had enough sparrows to keep your eye on and that for another you had done answered this old bird her lifetime's share the time after papa and uncle dicker topple and brother took us kids to the tum-of-the-century worlds fair in little rock and i saw the wild man from borneo ru
It was the queerest thing. I sailed right up out of my body while Doctor Ogilvie was saying, I'm sorry, Topple, she's gone – sailed right over the town through the night right on up to Heaven where the streets were lit with pure gold and the angels were playing harps and the moth I presume did not corrupt. Heaven. But when I started to go through the gates that were all inlaid pearl precisely like they are supposed to be this huge tall angel with an enormous book says to me, Wait a minute, little girl; what's your name? I says Becky Topple and he says Becky Topple? Rebecca Topple? I thought so, Becky; you have been marked by the Blood of the Lamb of God Almighty and you aren't due up here for another good seventy-seven years! The Son of Man Hisself has you down for not less than one entire century of earthly service! You're to be a saint, Rebecca, did you know that? So you got to go on back, honey. I'm sorry…