But here in Topeka the rain is a fallin’ / The faucet is a drippin’ and the kids are a bawlin’ / One of ‘ems a toddlin’ and one is a crawlin’ / And / One’s on the way ...
So, too, did they make excellent progress, travelling all the way to Niarada before Williams held up a sweaty hand, indicating the caravan should stop—then just stood there, listening. At last he knelt and touched the ground, even as Sheila crept closer and asked, somewhat tentatively, “What is it?”
He scanned the slopes to their right and seemed to nod gravely. “That’s what I thought,” he said, but didn’t immediately elaborate. He stood and faced the bus. “Sammy! Keep her parked but do not shut it off. Peter, Samantha, one of you mind the front. We’ll be right back.”
And then he and Sheila were scaling the slopes unti
