Ted let the men into the camp, watched closely as they inspected it and
knew definitely that they'd been in such places before. Their glances
were quick but all encompassing.
One of them, and although Ted did not remember all the names, he thought
this one was Tom Strickland, turned with a smile. "This will do very
well. Do you know where we can get a wet nurse?"
"A what?"
Strickland grinned, "A sort of combination cook, fire-builder,
sweeper-upper, dishwasher; we'll want to spend our time hunting."
"I think I can find somebody. Is nine dollars a day all right?"
"Sure. Can you send him up tomorrow?"
"Send him tonight!" somebody yelled.
Strickland said scathingly, "I wouldn't inflict you wild hyenas on
anyone tonight. I'll cook breakfast."
"Oh, my aching ptomaine!"
Ted grinned. "I'm sure I can send somebody tomorrow. Everything's O.K.,
eh?"
"Right as rain."
Ted got grimly back into the pickup and started down the road. Nine
dollars a day for fourteen days meant another hundred and twenty-six
dollars that probably would be sorely needed when Al had his inevitable
day in court, but Ted hadn't wanted to accept the job tonight because,
somehow, doing so would have seemed grasping. But he'd swallow his pride
and take it tomorrow. He must think of nothing except clearing his
father's name.
Back at the house, Ted loaded Tammie's pack very carefully. Laying out
in the Mahela, Al would not expect and did not need luxuries. Ted packed
cornmeal and oatmeal, desiccated soup, a parcel of dried apricots,
powdered milk, sugar, tea, flour. But when everything else was in, there
was room for a parcel of frozen pork chops. Ted added them and a note.
Dad: Everything's fine. There are grouse hunters in camp now and
there will be bear hunters next. Take care of yourself and let me
know what you need.
Love,
Ted
At five minutes past midnight, he strapped the pack on Tammie, took him
to the back door and let him out. Just as he did, there was an almost
timid knock on the front door. He jumped nervously.
"Go to Al!" he urged. "Take it to Al, Tammie! And please run!"
He shut the back door and perspiration broke on his brow as he stood
anxiously near it. Callahan, whose suspicions should have been
effectively lulled, was not lulled at all. He'd merely bided his time,
struck at the right hour and Ted was trapped.
He crossed the floor on shaky legs and opened the front door to come
face to face with Nels Anderson. Ted gasped.
His one-time working partner was pale and looked ill. Weariness had
left its impression in great blue patches beneath both eyes, but it was
not entirely physical weariness. Nels had suffered some terrible
shock--and in his extremity he had come to his friend.
"Nels! What's wrong?"
"I," Nels forced the shadow of his former smile, "am all right."
"Come on in!"
"I--I do not want to bother you. But I saw your light and--"
"What on earth have you been doing?"
"Walkin'. Yoost walkin'."
"All night?"
"I--" Nels looked at the floor. "I did not want to see Hilda. I--I lose
my yob."
"How come?"
Nels smiled again, but it was a sickly smile. "Mrs. Martin, she's
helpin' in the kitchen while huntin' season's on, she says, 'Nels,' she
says, 'the door on the walk-in cooler is stuck. I can't open it. Can
you?' I say I open it and Thornton comes. 'Told you to stay out of
here!' he yells. He was awful mad. 'Now get out and stay out!' So, no
more yob."
"You'll get another one."
"Oh sure. I get another one easy. You--You know where?"
Ted said recklessly, "I know where you can work for the next two weeks.
There's a bunch of hunters in my camp and they're looking for somebody
to do their cooking and odd jobs. Get up there tomorrow morning and say
I sent you. The pay is nine dollars a day."