That was while Oliver was following the hill path that led down into the glen where Duke Girard lay encamped. On his heels were the two boy outlaws who had come upon him in his great confusion after he awoke alone at Leaning Rock. These boys still wore clothes sewn by their mothers, though oversewn with patches of experience. The day continued cool in cloud and tree shadow, but in other moments bright. Grasses shivered then in sunlight and Oliver must narrow his eyes.Oliver appeared the knobby sailor, Old Noll, he of the pendulous earlobes and the hairy nostrils, he of the red hair and the eye cocked on another world. At this moment, Oliver did not just wear Sailor Noll as a mask. He did his best to be Sailor Noll, to be no more than Sailor Noll, a man of no consequence. He had not done any of those simple things Oliver knew that would win him free of these outlaws minor. He did not wish to win free. He had welcomed their arrival.Oliver sought the comfort of a fire, a fair portion, a place for his head, and time to regain his mind’s balance.
