The gypsy camp was in its usual place on the south bank of Lake Shasta near Squaw Creek. They came upon the collage of old cars, junked buses, and tents set among the tall firs and pines next to the lake. The water shone a deep blue, glinting golden where the sun reflected off its surface. Jonathon suddenly envied his life with these people; so carefree and wayward it had been. Why did I leave ?