One time Johnny Murphy, our landscaper, was repairing the fountain in front of our house when the Estellicane pulled in the driveway and saw him and his crew working without the ropes. Unfortunately, I was in the passenger seat and it felt like she was screaming at me when she was screaming at the workers.

That afternoon, when we pulled back out of the driveway, the fountain looked like a museum exhibit there were so many ropes around it. 

Anyway, Bones must have gone back to my house to get the rope, and that’s when I could no longer ignore the fact that Bones’ “feeling” had been absolutely spot-on. 

The ice started cracking beneath Bones’ bike and he jammed on his brakes. He was still twenty feet away from me and Murph, and now he had no chance of getting any closer. He calmly climbed off his bike, pulled the rope from the basket, tied it into a lasso, and started swinging it around his head. 

Wait, what? Bones knew how to lasso? Since when had he become a cowboy? 

“Lump,” Bones shouted across the ice. “Let it go over your head to Murph, then grab it after he does. Tell Murph to put the rope under his arms.” 

No one on the shore was offering to help, so Bones was going to have to pull me and Murph out using the yellow rope and the Barge, all on his own.

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