Something about Howard. It was time to deal with him. Someone was packing my photographic equipment across a stream on a wagon. It slipped and fell in. They decided to save it. I looked and noticed it was deep enough that I'd have to get my face underwater, but that it was possible. I asked someone to help. I went in there myself, it was shallower then, and I retrieved my diary and dream books and other things. A group of men who had joined the army were going to help me move. I was very angry at them. One man and I talked it out some, but I just yelled in rage at the others. The one layed his sleeping bag near me on the beach.