"Boy howdy, this sure is some purty countryside."

Klink was strangely pleased that the Texas prince or heir or whatever he was liked Germany. At least he seemed to be friendly, Klink thought. It was a pleasant change from the personality he had seen manifested yesterday.

"Yep, right purty, that’s for sure. Makes a man wanna just breathe in the fresh air."

Schultz kept driving. Klink kept listening. Hogan was the only one who caught the hint.

"Kommandant, I think that Sgt. Crocker might enjoy a chance to stop and get a breath of fresh air."

"Don’t be ridiculous, Hogan," Klink started. A hard whack on the back of his seat stopped him short.

"Of course I want to stop. That’s what I SAID," Crocker proclaimed arrogantly. He figured he could take to being royalty. He’d have to be careful not to get too high and mighty…not if he wanted to have any friends when this was over. A man could get spoiled.

"Schultz, you dumkopf! Stop the car!" Klink yelled at his guard, conveniently forgetting that mere moments ago, he had also missed the subtle clue.

"Yes, Herr Kommandant," Schultz said wearily. He was used to the abuse by now.

Crocker got out of the car, and with a big yawn, stretched his arms and legs. He winked at Hogan.

"Kommandant," Hogan whispered. Klink didn’t respond, so Hogan tapped him on the shoulder. "Kommandant!"

"What is it, Hogan?"

"Sir, if I might suggest an idea…" He started to lean in towards the Kommandant, and then snapped his fingers and pulled away. "No, of course you would have already thought of that," he said, a self-reproaching look on his face. "You deserve credit for the idea."

Klink looked slyly at Hogan. "What idea, Hogan? Perhaps it is different from the idea I have?"

"No," Hogan said, sighing. "I’m sure you thought of it. I mean, it makes perfect sense that you would want to take Sgt. Crocker for a walk while we’re here and show him what makes Germany such a beautiful country."

Klink loved the idea and was quite willing to accept it as his own. "Actually, Hogan, that is exactly what I was thinking." By now, he almost believed the idea was his own.

Boy, it sure doesn’t take much. "I figured." The disappointment was evident on Hogan’s face. "I’ll never be as clever as you." Klink’s chest puffed out at the praise. "Why don’t you go and ask him, Kommandant?"

"Colonel Hogan, I don’t need your permission to do anything." He turned, missing Hogan’s rolled eyes. His own eyes searched for Crocker, but could not find him.

"SCHULTZ!!!!!"

Schultz got out of the car quickly. He hadn’t felt like getting out to breathe the fresh air. He got plenty of air every day when he walked his post. Now he wished he had gotten out of the car when the others had. When the Kommandant yelled like that, it usually meant he was about to be blamed for something he didn’t do.

"Schultz, you were supposed to be guarding the prisoner!"

"But…"

"No buts! You will stay out here until you find him!"

"B-b-but Kommandant," Schultz stammered, his eyes widening in fear. "How will I get back?"

"That is not my concern. YOU should have thought of that before you let him escape."

Hogan jumped in. "Do you want me to stay out here and help Schultz search?"

"No, you have caused quite enough trouble already, Hogan."

"ME?" Hogan asked indignantly. "I’m not the one who thought it would be a good idea to take Mr. Unpredictable out for a relaxing afternoon drive."

"In the car!" Klink barked. Hogan shrugged his shoulders and silently obeyed. During the argument, he had seen Carter slip out of the trunk of the car and into the woods where he would meet up with Crocker. There was no point in stalling anymore.

"Kommandant!" Schultz whined in a last-ditch attempt to change Klink’s mind.

"Silence, Schultz!" Klink bellowed. He didn’t even want to think of an escaped prisoner, especially not one as important as Crocker. "I will send reinforcements when I get back to camp. Now go out there and find him!"

Schultz knew when it was pointless to argue. He slowly turned around and trudged off into the woods.

"As for you," Klink said, turning to Hogan. "I will deal with you when we get back to camp."

Hogan knew that Klink needed someone to yell at after he had ‘lost’ a prisoner. But Hogan didn’t feel any pity for Klink, and he intended to give as good as he got. If Klink was this upset now, Hogan couldn’t wait to see how he would react when they got back to camp and the Kommandant found out that Carter had escaped while he was gone.

"Consarnit!" Crocker cursed, fiddling with his compass. "It’s gone catty whompus on me."

"What’s that mean?" Carter asked.

"It’s all whomperjawed."

Carter still didn’t know exactly what that meant either, but from the way Crocker was getting so mad, he figured it wasn’t working like it should. Finally, he heard Crocker exclaim, "Woo-hoo! I’m cookin’ on the front burner today!"

Carter smiled. The "woo-hoo" needed no translation. He was glad for that at least. He had a feeling that he was going to have a hard time figuring out what to say today.

"Colonel Hogan says you wanted me to come along," Carter started hesitantly.

"Yup."

"Um…why?"

"Cause I like you."

"Oh."

Carter was used to talking a whole bunch, but he didn’t think he would be able to talk to Crocker very well. It turned out he didn’t need to worry. Crocker could talk enough for the both of them.

"Boy, it’s windier than a fifty pound bag of whistling lips. Wind’s blowing through here like perfume through a prom." He looked at Carter and saw that he had no comment, so he kept talking. "Hot day today, too. Hotter’n a stolen tamale out here, that’s the truth."

Carter was proud of himself for being able to follow the conversation so far. In fact, it was kind of fun to figure out what Crocker was saying. "Yeah, it is hot. It’s kind of nice. It’s usually cold."

"Sho nuff. Colder’n a well digger’s knee, least that’s what I thought when I first got here."

"Yeah, that’s what I thought when I first got here, too," Carter agreed.

"Really?" Crocker ignored his instruments and looked at Carter. "You thought that it was colder than a well digger’s knee?"

"No, not exactly. More like ‘boy, it sure is cold!’"

Crocker gave him a hearty slap on the back. "That works too, buckaroo!"

Neither man said anything for a few moments, but worked together in companionable silence. Carter assisted Crocker by writing down measurements and descriptions as the Texan called them out.

Eventually, they picked up their equipment and moved on to a new spot. There was no need to worry about Schultz anymore. He had rustled around for the first few minutes, and then had fallen strangely silent. Carter figured he was waiting until help came. That made the most sense to him. He wouldn’t want to be out here in these woods all alone either.

Thinking about Schultz reminded Carter of the trouble they would be in when they got back to camp. "Boy, Colonel Klink sure is going to be mad when we get back."

"Naw, son, don’t you worry about him none. That man’s big hat, no cattle."

"What does that mean?"

"Means he’s all talk, but he ain’t gonna do nothin’. He’s yellow as mustard, but without the bite."

Carter laughed. "I like the way you talk."

"Do you now? I can teach you how."

"Oh, I don’t think I’d be very good at talking like you." Carter said, feeling like he could open up to his new friend. "I’m not good at much."

"Now, I hear tell you’ve got you some purty special talents." He looked over at Carter and winked. "’Sides bein’ a good listener."

"Well," Carter answered, feeling shy but not sure why. "I’m pretty good at explosives."

"From what I hear, you’re more’n purty good. You’re downright terrific."

"Well, maybe. I guess I just don’t like to brag."

Crocker looked at him seriously. "If you can do it, it ain’t braggin’."

"I guess you’re right." Carter smiled. He wasn’t used to all the encouragement, and he kind of liked it.

"Course I’m right!" Crocker flashed Carter a toothy grin. "Now we’ve got to get you talkin’ like a Texan. You know any expressions already?"

"Well, I did hear one a long time ago. I always wondered what it meant."

"What’s that?"

"Well, I think it was ‘Don’t squat with your spurs on.’ What does that one mean?"

"Why, that don’t mean anything but what it says. That one’s just plain common sense!"

Crocker playfully slapped Carter’s arm. "Come on. We best get goin’."