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“This way,” you say, turning left into the forest. “Who’s this Henry fellow?” Fred says, puffing along behind you. “And what’s so special about this tree?” “I’ll tell you the story,” you say, turning to hide your smile. You wondered how long it would be before they’d ask. “What happened to the Indian who took a piece of the bark?” Stan asks when you finish the story. “He was able to predict the future,” you say. “Lucky dog,” Stan mutters. “I’d like to know what’s in my future. Like if we were going to outwit those Boston cops.” “Go buy a crystal ball,” Fred Grunts. “How much father?” “Not far,” you say confidently. But inside you’re worrying. The sky is darkening quickly – there may be a storm coming in. And that’s the least of your problems. How much longer can you lie to them and get away with it? Will they guess that you really don’t know where the tree is?



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