"We'll need plenty," Al broke in. "S'pose you get about four more
parcels of pork chops out and start 'em cookin?"
"But, Dad--"
"Let's not," Al whirled almost savagely, "waste our time talkin'. Let's
just do it."
Sick with fear, Ted did as directed. He and Al froze pork chops six to a
package, and three were all a hungry man wanted. Four more packages
meant that they would cook thirty pork chops, and what were any four
men--even four ravenous men--to do with them? Ted got four more packages
out and began breaking them apart. He stole a sidewise glance at his
father. Had this sudden, terrible accusation unseated Al's reason? Ted
put the still frozen pork chops into two of their biggest skillets and
began thawing them over burners. Loring Blade came into the kitchen.
"Can I help?"