The First Cut by John Kenyon

what was becoming a sort of backwoods chess match between the two, the idea of being by himself for a moment was appealing.
    “OK, I’ll see you in a little while,” he said. The boys darted toward Joyce’s canoe and climbed in. Joyce looked at Paul for a moment, then, shaking her head, turned and walked down to the boat. She pushed off a bit and jumped in. Paul stood for a moment, watching the canoe move silently away from the shore and down the river. He didn’t feel much like climbing the falls now, but didn’t want to hop in his canoe and catch up right away either. He compromised, grabbing hold of the rock crag again and pulling himself up onto a small shelf just a few feet above the ground. He wouldn’t go far, remembering that the rare moss and lichen began to grow not far from where he stood. As he was looking for the next place to put his foot, someone yelled from a canoe on the river. He turned and saw two canoes, each with two men paddling idly. All four wore faded T-shirts and wrap-around mirrored sunglasses. He could see cans of beer inside insulated sleeves perched on the bow of each boat. The second canoe held the two men he'd talked with the night before from the neighboring campsite. The one in back, the friendlier of the two, was waving now. He told his buddies to steer their canoes to the shore.
    Paul tensed with fear, nearly falling from his perch. The men pulled their canoes up to the bank and got out. Paul jumped back down to the ground and stood waiting to see what the men would do. The man who had waved seemed to be the leader. He came over to Paul and stuck out his hand.
    "Hey, good to see you," he said. "Remember us? The loud guys?" He laughed, and Paul chuckled with him.
    "Sure," Paul said. "So you guys are out canoeing, too?"
    "Looks that way. By the way, I'm Carl, and these guys are Leroy, Mike and Dave."
Paul nodded. He jammed his hands into his pockets then took them out again. He decided full disclosure was the best policy.
    “About last night – ” he started.
    “Yea, sorry about that. Little too much to drink last night. If it’s any consolation, we’re paying for it today,” Carl said, tapping his finger lightly against his own forehead.
    “Well, I know how that goes,” Paul said. “But I just wanted to, well, to clear up something. I think you had the impression last night that I own the campground, but I was just staying there with my family, right next to your campsite, actually.”
    "You’re not the owner?" Carl said now. "What are you trying to pull, Paul? Were you afraid of us or something? Jeez, we're not bad guys, we were just blowing off a little steam is all, like I told you."
    "I didn't tell you guys I owned the campground, you just assumed it," Paul said, a bit whiny now. "I figured it would be easier to go along with you than explain everything. I was half-asleep, you were drunk and it was 1 in the morning."
    The one Carl had said was Mike stepped up toward Paul, raising his hand in a swift motion. Paul flinched, but Mike finished the move by pulling his hat off his head and wiping his brow with his forearm. He laughed.
    “Yeah, you’re a real tough guy when you lie about it, huh?” he said.
    “Now, hold on,” Carl said, stepping in. “We were awfully drunk last night, and I’m sure we were pretty loud, too. Let’s just call it even, OK? We’re all out here to have a good time and enjoy the day. Why don’t we get back on the river and let Paul here get back to whatever he was doing.”
    The men nodded. Paul looked at his watch, and decided enough time had passed for him to get back in his own canoe and catch up with Joyce and the boys.
    “Actually, I’m going to hit the river again myself. My family is just up ahead here. I’m sorry about the misunderstanding. Really, I --”
    Carl waved him off.
    “Forget it. Enjoy the rest of your day.”
    The four men climbed back into their two canoes, pushed off, and began paddling down the river. Paul waited