The boys set out early westward, planning to make it by mid-morning to the Mushroom Rocks. They figured they would sleep somewhere along the river, maybe catch trout for breakfast.It was Kelly’s idea to hike to the mountains. It was only around 25 miles. Two or three days, he said.

 

It was hot by 10 o’clock, and when they took cover in the shadow of the biggest rock, the bologna sandwiches tasted real good, and they drank most of the water in their canteens. Dylan’s canteen was a World War II relic, a steel jug mounted in a tough canvas bag. He looked at it and thought about his uncle Win who came back from the war and was never right again. His hands would shake, and his eyes would dart around the room. Then Milly would put her hand on his shoulder and he’d be OK.

 

Flies buzzed the boys as they lay back in the shade, and soon Dylan was in a world where huge Duck-billed dinosaurs grazed. One turned and looked directly at him, and seemed to be pleading. Then Dylan’s eyes popped open.Well, Kelly said, let’s get going. They pulled on their packs and trailed through the standing rocks – 20, 30 feet high sandstone – shaped by the Montana prairie winds into mushrooms.

 

Now, they were out in open prairie and they could see the full expanse of the Front Range from Sleeping Abe and Augusta to Chief Mountain up by Babb, 100 miles of Blackfoot range. Here 100 years before and until 40 or 50 years ago, warriors would roam in search of buffalo, then simply deer and antelope. Now it was ranch country. Open range for Herefords and Angus, where in recent years Grizzly bears had been returning, now that they were endangered and protected from the rancher’s rifles.

 

They were sweating in the early afternoon, the sun bearing down on them with little restraint. And over the Rockies, some tall rolling black clouds began to form, billowing high and running eastward fast.

 

OK, said Kelly. We might get some rain.In a few minutes the sky turned black and opened up, pouring hot gushers over the boys who looked for any tree of cover.Ahead was a weathered sheep shed. They were soaked already but they made for it on the double. Inside, it wasn’t their moms’ living room. The floor was deep in dry sheep shit. But that didn’t trouble a couple of wet country boys, at least it was dry and Kelly said they should build a cap fire on the edge and dry out. The smoke would blow out the door.They ripped some pieces of the shed apart and got a fire started just as the lightning and thunder began to flash and echo across the prairie.

 

Then suddenly there was an explosion and flash right on them.Jesus! Said Dylan. It’s heat flashed and his hair stood straight up. Kelly’s hair was on end too.

 

Goddam! Said Kelly. Whoa. Whoa.Dylan’s stomach churned. He wanted to run. He couldn’t catch his breath. He wanted to go home where he could slip under the covers in his bed in the basement.Wow! Said Kelly. That strike was right on us.That was close! Wow! It seemed to Dylan that Kelly was nuts. He seemed to like the lightning strike. 

 

Dylan didn’t like it. He was scared, wet, cold and hungry.It was getting dark.The duck-billed dinosaur popped into his mind, and seemed to look over his shoulder at Dylan.He didn’t want to be chicken. But suddenly it didn’t seem so important to get to the mountains.A kid could get killed out here like the dinosaurs or the buffalo or the Blackfeet.Kelly was laughing.

 

Look, he said, scanning the skies. Sheet lighting! The thunder was rolling on east in a shower of light and rain. Kelly’s eyes were wide and full of fun.

 

God, he said. That was great!

 

Dylan thought about pork chops. His mom was planning them for supper that night. Maybe she had one left over.

 

Looks like the storm is over, Kelly said, holding his t-shirt over the flames. Let’s just get dry and hit for the river. It’s just over there are mile by the Peeble’s Ranch. We could catch a couple trout for supper, he said.

 

Dylan whipped off his Tom & Jerry T-shirt ad dried it like Kelly. He wasn't so sure about sleep out now. He was cold and still pretty wet. They had a can of Dinty Moore beef stew for supper, but the fish did sound good. But they weren’t pork chops.

 

I think I want to go home, Dylan said.What? Said Kelly. We just got started.I know, Dylan said. But I think I want to go home.

 

They kicked shit on the fire, and made sure it was out.Let’s get to the river, Kelly said. You can call your dad from Peebles if you want. I’m going to the mountains.

 

Dylan was pretty sure that he didn’t care about the mountain hike any more. He really liked pork chops. He was thinking of the dinosaur. He didn’t really want to miss swim team practice tomorrow.They parted ways at Peebles. Kelly went down by the river, out of sight.

 

In an hour, Dylan’s dad drove up in the pickup truck.

 

Had enough adventure, son? Dad said. He smiled. Dylan frowned and got in the truck.He thought about Kelly down in the brush by the river, sleeping under the stars after eating trout, sleeping with the dinosaurs, the buffalo and the Blackfeet.He took a deep breath and let it out.

 

That Kelly, he thought. We aren’t alike. Dylan's mom did have an extra pork chop. And afterwards, in his bed, Dylan shuddered about the lightning.

 

An inch. A foot of difference and they'd both be gone. Instead they were both alive.