The Ambush

“Here’s the plan.” Jake picked up a stick and started to draw in the dirt. “As soon as it’s light enough to see what we’re doing, I’ll sneak over behind that boulder, and you head for that thicket you got caught in when you got up to pee.”

“When a guy’s gotta go," Sam groused, "he’s gotta go. And why are you drawing in the dirt with that stick? It’s too dark to see anything.”

“It helps me think. Anyway, where was I? Oh, yeah. I head for the rock, you head for the thicket, and Rusty stays right here.”

“Rusty’s a dog. You know dang well he’ll follow one of us.”

“Okay, we’ll tie him up.”

“What if he barks?”

“Never mind. He’ll come with me. And we’ll just sit and wait for the right moment.”

“Then what?”

“We'll take them by surprise."

“Oh, it’ll be a surprise, alright. There are two of us--”

“And Rusty.”

“Fine. Two and a half of us. And at least fifty of them.”

“Oh, ye of little faith.”

“What makes you think I have even a little?”

“Okay, smart guy. You come up with a better idea.”

“Easy. And I don’t even need a stick.”

“I told you, it helps me think.”

“Anyway, as soon as it’s light enough to see what we’re doing, I say we head in the opposite direction of that rock and that thicket, and run as fast as we can.”

Jake stared off into the blackness, stroking the stubble on his rugged chin. “Y’know,” he said. “You might be onto something.”

“So we’ll do it my way?”

“Okay, but you have to admit, my idea wasn’t all that bad.”

“Let’s put it this way,” said Sam. “It was the second-best idea of the night.”