Lyle is torn. He would go with me if not for his concern for his pigeons. I counter with the observation that I see them getting along just fine without him. Not to be unkind of course, but just point it out.
Besides, I add that he should consider Him who clothes the flowers of the field. And get a proper estimation of his real place in the scheme of things.
We make a short foray beyond the warning signs to retrieve the foodstuffs that I had stashed and look for others.
About the time we turned back, I sensed in him the desire to continue on outward. I mentioned this, back under the bridge. He says it’s true, but…