In that ravine, along whose side ran one of the ancient cow paths, Peter found exactly the dead animal he’d been searching for; he thought it fitting that it was Phil, in a way, who had led him to it. He looked around as calmly as coyotes looked at him, and he listened; then he reached into his pocket and drew out gloves and drew them on as a surgeon might, got down from his horse, felt God smile, and went to work.
