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22

           "Thisnextbitislikethedeadfallyougottowalksteadyandeasy.Justfollowmeanddon’tlookdown.Youfeltusgoingdownhill?"

           "Yes."

           "ThisistheedgeofwhattheMicmacsusedtocallLittleGodSwamp.ThefurtraderswhocamethroughcalleditDeadMan’sBog,andmostofthemwhocameonceandgotoutnevercameagain."

           "Istherequicksand?"

           "Oh,ayuh,quicksandaplenty!Streamsthatbubbleupthroughabigdepositofquartzsandleftoverfromtheglacier.Silicasand,wealwayscalledit,althoughthere’sprobablyapropernameforit."

           Judlookedathim,andforamomentLouisthoughthesawsomethingbrightandnotcompletelypleasantintheoldman’seyes.

           ThenJudshiftedtheflashlightandthatlookwasgone.

           "There’salotoffunnythingsdownthisway,Louis.Theair’sheavier...moreelectrical...orsomethin."

           Louisstarted.

           "What’swrong?"

           "Nothing,"Louissaid,thinkingofthatnightonthedead-endroad.

           "YoumightseeSt.Elmo’sfirewhatthesailorscallfoo-lights.Itmakesfunnyshapes,butit’snothing.Ifyoushouldseesomeofthoseshapesandtheybotheryou,justlooktheotherway.Youmayhearsoundslikevoices,buttheyaretheloonsdownsouthtowardProspect.Thesoundcarries.It’sfunny."

           "Loons?"Louissaiddoubtfully.

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