I have a bet with my friend George. The bet is the Little Plover will not go dry this fall. He betting the opposite. He buys me supper if it doesn’t and the reverse if it does. The real bet is we both get an evening out with our wives. They, for their part, probably don’t give a damn.
When I gleefully announced to George that at my last observation the Little Plover was still plugging along, he said cryptically as a good hydrologist might, just wait.
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