Was the boy really running away? He was running to a place. He ran up the sagebrush sand hill, he watched the jackrabbits, he climbed through a barbed-wire fence, he crossed a dirt road, he climbed through another fence, he ran to the sand dunes. Among the dunes the boy gathered obsidian shards left by the old Morogonai the Shoshone arrowhead-maker. He squeezed these precious devils’ fingernails so tightly that they cut his little hands. One time he even found an arrowhead, and when he did, he shouted gleefully, ran, leapt, and slid down a sand dune.