Pablo Picasso Seated Bather painting

Pablo Picasso Seated Bather paintingPablo Picasso Mandolin and Guitar painting
Old Rocky, or whatever they call him, is going to hike along, too."
"You think so?" Mannix said doubtfully.
"I know so. So do you. He wouldn't dare not push along with his men."
Mannix was silent for a moment. Then he said viciously, as if obsessed with the idea that no act of Templeton's could remain untainted by a prime and calculated evil: "But the son of a bitch! He's made for that sort of thing. He's been running around the boondocks for six years getting in shape while sane people like you and me were like humans and taking it easy. Billy Lawrence, too. They're both gung ho. These fat civilians can't take that sort of thing. My God! Hobbs! Look at that radioman, Hobbs. That guy's going to keel over two minutes out—" He rose suddenly to his feet and stretched, his voice stifled by the long, indrawn breath of a yawn. "Aaa-h, fuck it. I'm going to hit the sack."
"Why don't you?"