Spider Lake by Gregg Hangebrauck

rope.
    “What is that Matt?”
    “What?”
    “Down the road, on the other side of the ditch.”
    Matt looked way down the road at the object. “I don’t know. Maybe it’s a deer or a small black bear that’s been hit.”
    The boys kept moving steadily in the direction of the dark shape, each on his own side of the road, occasionally picking up bottles as they went. As they drew closer to the dark object, it looked to them like a man laying down. They also had seen something small move from the woods to the man, and then back into the woods.
    “Matt, did you see that?”
    “Yeah. What the heck was it?”
    “I can’t tell. It was too fast and too far away, but it looked like—”
    “Is that a —?”
    “It’s a man lying there Matt. I wonder why a man would be laying down in the middle of nowhere? What was that other thing we saw, a raccoon?”
    The boy’s pace slowed as it became clear to them that it was indeed a man lying ahead of them on the roadside. Ben crossed to the side where Matt was walking, opposite the stranger. They cautiously moved forward.
    “Ben?”
    “What?”
    “Do you think he is okay, I mean do you think he might be dead?”
    “I was thinking the same thing myself.”
    They stopped their bikes.
    “Should we get a closer look at him Matt?”
    “I don’t want to. I think we should turn around.”
    “What if he’s sick or something and he needs help?”
    “You can go if you want to, but I am staying right here where I am.”
    “Well, I will, but if he grabs me you ride like hell and get some help.”
    The man rolled from his side and lifted himself to a half-sitting position on his elbows.
    “What on earth are you boys carrying on about? A free man has a right to take a rest now and then doesn’t he? It’s one thing tryin to sleep with all those bottles rattling, but being called a dead man now, that’s another. Come to think of it, I do sleep like I was de-ceesed now and then.” He let out a laugh.
    “Sorry mister, we didn’t see you move once from a quarter mile down the road.” Matt said.
    The old man sat upright and it looked to the boys that he was literally swimming in his dusty clothes. He had long white hair which fell almost to his shoulders from under a wrinkled fedora hat. His face was covered with a shortly cropped white beard. The lines on his face had the look of a road map, and when he smiled the boys noticed he was missing some of his teeth. He wore a grayish-green pair of chinos with a black tee and a gray sport coat. His shoes revealed his socks in some places, and on one foot, the socks revealed one ancient big toe. It was clear to the boys that they were talking to a real honest to goodness hobo. They couldn’t believe their good fortune and then Ben said, “You better be careful where you sleep mister, we saw an animal eyeing you up close a couple of minutes ago. My mom says lots of animals in the north woods can give you rabies and then you need to get thirteen shots in your stomach if they can’t find the animal and cut its head off.”
    “Is that so young man? And what kind of critter did you see?”
    “We couldn’t tell, it was too fast and we were too far away.”
    The old man had a wry smile on his face. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a rather large harmonica. “Well, sonny, tell me more about this awful woodland creature. Was it biggish or smallish?” He licked his lips, seemingly preparing himself to play the harp.
    “It was small, about the size of a raccoon or maybe a porcupine.”
    “What’s your name young man?”
    “Ben.”
    “And who might I ask is this other toe-headed character?”
    “My name’s Matt.”
    “Well Ben and Matt, I am pleased to make your acquaintance. My name is Regola, Samuel Regola, but most folks just call me Sam. What would you say if I told you I could call wild animals right out of the woods with this here harp?”
    “I’d say seeing is believing.” Ben said coyly.
    “Well said, well said.