“Too bad there isn’t a boat,” she said as Manson and I joined her. “I could go for a lazy float down the river.” “It gets less lazy about a mile downstream,” Manson said. “That’s why there isn’t a boat anymore.” “Damn foolish,” I said, shaking my head as I remembered the story he’d told me about that death-trap boat. “That’s what happens when you go places without me. You suddenly lose your sense.” “You would’ve been right there in the boat with us. Don’t lie,” Manson said,
