He’ll never find the Canady and he’ll never get to Canady because he’s goin the wrong way all the time.”
“Slim, I’m scairt,” I said.
“Well don’t be scairt, we’ll walk back to town and get back to those lights and folks can see us. Whoo!”
“Slim, who was that man?” I asked him, and he said, “Shoo, that was some kinda ghost of the river, he’s been lookin for Canady in Virginia, West Virginia, West Pennsylvania, North New York, New York City, East Arthuritis and South Pottzawattomy for the last eighty years as far as I can figure, and on foot, too. He’ll never find the Canady and he’ll never get to Canady because he’s goin the wrong way all the time.”
