Rainstorms will travel thousands of miles, against prevailing winds, for the opportunity to rain on a tent. —dave barry When Mandy and Rob returned with the firewood, the horseshoe game had stopped. Gonzo was now leading the players in an echo contest. They hollered as loud as they could in various directions, then listened to see how many echoes bounced back to them from the looming archways and sweeping curves in the steep canyon walls. Les puffed himself up and produced a massive bellow. Gonzo held a cupped hand to his ear and stood still, listening intently. After a few seconds, as the sound faded into the distance, he said, “I counted six echoes. What about the rest of you?” “Seven,” Tina replied. “At least seven.” “I only counted six,” her mother replied. “I’ll take the seven,” Les said, “and that’s the most so far.”
