Mr. Crowley used to run the Steeple Chase. One of the last survivors. He said that now he couldn’t run the Steeple again if he wanted to on account of his shot legs, but he doesn’t know a child alive that could do it nowadays, anyhow. I said, “well then, you wouldn’t have to RUN it.” He made a noise. It wasn’t a snicker or a harumph. Just a noise. He cocked the starter pistol, and pointed the gun in the air. There weren’t going to be anymore Just Noises from Mr. Crowley, today.