We drove on. I looked at the scenery passing by my window.“Lots of trees.”“Trees’re money in this part of the state,” he said. “I’ve bee... in a paper mill or chip mill or plywood mill a time or two...”“Interesting,” I said.“Different world.”“Electricity’s electricity,” I answered.“Some of ‘em smell real bad. Others have some rather interesting approaches to providing power. Gotta keep your antennae up.”“Babe,” I said, “we do that anyway. Every day we’re working with enough electricity to kill. Wanting to be a little different, Doug sat at his place and started to recite "Casey at the Bat" in a sing-song rhythm. When he finished that one, he recited "The Cremation of Sam Magee." By this time, both Long Arm and Steady Hand were zonked out, staring off into space, so Doug copied them, except that he stared at the chief of the locals.When all of the guests appeared to be under the influence of whatever they had drunk, the chief spoke to one of his companions in a language so close to. More

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