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Something made me think of Ben Gurnell, as I drove on, looking along down the road to keep it straight. You never heard about it? Poor Ben! Poor Ben!
There were rocks at my right hand, and rocks at my left. There was the sky overhead. I was in the Gray Goth! I sat down as weak as a baby. If I didn't think of Ben Gurnell then, I never thought of him.
There was a log or something put up after Gurnell went over, but it was of no account, coming on it suddenly. There was no going any farther that night, that was clear; so I put about into the hut, and got my fire going, and Bess and Beauty and I, we slept together. It was an outlandish name to give it, seems to me, anyway. I don't know what a Goth is, Johnny; maybe you do.
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