Steiner had ascended to the top of the low mountain in the distance. I could barely make out his sun protection flap waving in the high gusts. He was looking down onto us as the sun sank behind him. He must have seen a giant shadowing creeping over our small band. 

"Can he see us?" Carlton asked. "Where is he going?"

"He fucking sees us alright," I said. I waved at him. He waved back with both arms.

I handed the binoculars to Johnson and watched the Steiner's black speck disappear into the ochre light of the sunset. 

Soon the mountain's shadow swallowed up the whole valley and we made camp in the warm night. I thought about what I was going to do to that kid when I got my hands on him. This is a field trip, you don't get to just walk home.

The next morning I gathered the boys together. We were going to pursue.

"The idiot really thinks he's gonna walk to Michigan?" asked Beck.

"You can't say he isn't determined," Carlton replied. 

Soon we were on top of the same mountain. The air was clean and quiet. More dry valleys and more  dusty mountains were stretched out into the distance. We were far from the city. No cars honking, no businessmen scurrying, and no vagrants harrowing. There was dry, spiky grass and low shrubs with waxy leaves. Rocks were scattered up and down the inclines in shades ranging from brown to orange. It was like Spain, Miller kept saying. I doubt the kid had ever been, but he kept speaking the few words of Spanish he knew and asking questions about the king of Spain. The boys didn't expect such an adventure. Their heads were swinging back and forth at the desolate landscape. They were enthralled. 

After two days, we started to arrive higher up in the mountain range. There was water. The plants become lush and the air carried a dry chill. When we made camp that night, Johnson found a map and some of Steiner's camping kit. 

"Why?" I asked.

"They're clues, sir," said Carlton.

"Why leave us clues? Why is he still on the trail?"

"He was always a bit of a retard," said Miller.