Tropile ate silently, trying to think.
A man arrived, threw himself in a chair, glanced curiously at Tropile and said: "Haendl, the Somerville Road. The creek backed up when it froze. Flooded bad. Ruined everything."
Tropile ventured: "The flood ruined the road?"
"The road? No. Say, you must be the fellow Haendl went after. Tropile, that the name?" He leaned across the table, pumped Tropile's hand. "We had the road nicely blocked," he explained. "The flood washed it clean. Now we have to block it again."
Haendl said: "Take the tractor if you need it."
The man nodded and left.
Haendl said: "Eat up. We're wasting time. About that road—we keep all entrances blocked up, see? Why let a lot of sheep in and out?"
"Sheep?"
"The opposite," said Haendl, "of Wolves."