Roy and I managed to complete our mapping project without killing each other.  There was, however, one further traumatic occurrence that summer.  We had separated in order to double our mapping efficiency, having agreed to meet at the confluence of two creeks at twelve to compare notes and eat our bologna sandwiches.  As noon approached, I hurried to our proposed rendezvous.  There I got huge surprise, and I do mean huge.

Roy was in the upper branches of a tree, beneath him a large and very angry Arkansas razorback.  Not knowing what to do, I did nothing, except to crawl up on a rock and wait, that is.  After an hour or so, the huge sow abandoned her treed prey and trotted off to check on her brood of restless piglets.

Roy was not a happy camper when he finally descended from the tree.  “Why didn’t you do something?” he demanded.

“Like what?” I asked.

Roy had no answer.  Despite the razorback, rattlesnakes, and an often angry professor, we both managed to pass the course.  Neither of us got an A, or even Bs.  Still, we felt relieved as we drove away from that isolated farmhouse for the last time.  We finally made it home after a slight altercation with the State Police concerning stolen headstones, but that’s another story.

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