THE OTHER SIDE OF THE WELL

Chapter 8 – page 3

"It must be about one o’clock by now," said G. "Off we go!" That-a-way, again!" said Granma. They hadn’t even gotten a mile from FlamFlow. Julio put the revived Chip in his shirt pocket for a smoother ride. Muff was out in front now, bounding from side to side, and sniffing at the blue-grass banjo music grass. Nothing particular happen for a long time; on they went. The road was the same until it changed. It started getting softer and sandier and the horses started sinking deeper and deeper til they came to a fork in the road. One road went downhill and probably got wetter and softer and muckier, and the other went up a ways, into rocky crags, kinda scarry. "Well, hhhmmmm, not much of a decision here," says G. We better take the high way," says G. "Hahahaha! Get it! The highway! Hahahaha! I-5 , 101, Interstate 80 …. Traffic, cars …hahaha!" G always had to explain jokes. Julio thought she was losing it, being 129 and all.

Up they went. Rocks were falling and rolling down into water somewhere below; they could hear them going kerplop! and the croaking of frogs! They must be getting near the marshes, they thought. The HIGH way didn’t last long, maybe half a mile or so, and the road started going downhill again. The road connected to a stone bridge ahead of them that spanned the marsh. From their vantage point of being higher up, they got a good view of the Marshmallow Wastes.