"Who's your friend?"The woman was looking at Bill as if he was fresh baked bread and she wanted a big bite. It made him uncomfortable.Bill studied the couple thoughtfully. The man was a little over six feet tall and looked like he weighed about 200 pounds. He was in his mid 30s and had thick, wavy black hair. The woman was probably one of the most stunningly beautiful women he had ever seen. She was about five and a half feet tall and looked like she weighed about 125 pounds. Her jet black hair curled around her shoulders and her slightly tilted eyes hinted at some Native American or oriental blood in her background. It looked like most of her weight was in her chest. She had to be at least a double D and she obviously wasn't wearing a bra. Her tight blouse highlighted and emphasized more than it concealed. The blouse may keep her legal but was more obscene than if she wasn't wearing it. The woman's breasts bounced and rolled as she moved. It looked like two cats in a sack fighting. So why was I feeling stuff crawling on me every few seconds? Why was I scratching at imaginary itches on my arms and legs?I was thirsty, too. It hadn't been all that long, I knew, since I'd had a drink of water. But it seemed long.I waited for rescue. After awhile, huddled there, in the perfect darkness, I must have slept.When I awoke, I was astonished to see a dim light at the entrance to the mine shaft, high above. It was daylight! I'd slept through the night, sitting in that cramped space in the half-broken barrel, and no rescuer had come.That was remarkable. Aunt Rachel knew where we were. Why hadn't she sent someone to check on us?I turned on the helmet light again and, with some relief, saw that it had made at least a temporary recovery overnight. The light from the lamp above my eyes was ample. I took my broken barrel stave in hand again, climbed to the top of the barrel, and made a few more passes at snagging the rope on the nails extending from the stave. As before, I touched.
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