CHAPTER XXI
Lawanne had been thumping a typewriter for hours, he told Hollister, until his fingers ached. He was almost through with this task, which for months had been a curious mixture of drudgery and pleasure.
"I'm through all but typing the last two chapters. It's been a fierce grind."
"You'll be on the wing soon, then", Hollister observed.
"That depends," Lawanne said absently.
But he did not explain upon what it depended. He leaned back in his chair, a cigarette in his fingers, and stared for a minute up at the trees.
"I'll get the rest of it pounded out in two or three days," he came back to his book, "then I think I'll go up the Little Toba, just to see what that wild-looking gorge is like twenty or thirty miles back. Better come along with me. Do you good. You're sort of at a standstill."
"I can't," Hollister explained. "Doris is coming back next week."
Lawanne looked at him intently.