I felt as though I’d been run over by a steam roller.
I was all alone in the cabin. I looked at the boarded windows and tried the door, expecting to find it locked. It wasn’t. Cool mountain air, filled with the tang of pine, struck my nostrils. Something black was out in front of the door. I brought out the candle and saw it was the agency car.
A mountain stream was making noises, apparently close to the cabin. I did a little exploring with the candle, and found a trail which led to the water. I wet my handkerchief in the ice-cold water and put it on my forehead, on my eyes, and then on the back of my neck. A gust of wind blew the candle out. I sat there in the dark letting the cold water do its stuff.
After a while I groped with cold, wet fingers for my matches, and lit the candle at the second try. I went back to the cabin. I didn’t have the faintest idea where I was.
I blew out the candle, closed the cabin door, and got in the agency car. The keys were in the ignition. I switched on the motor. The tank was half full of gas. The headlights showed a rugged mountain road leading from the cabin. I put the car into gear and found a paved highway within a quarter of a mile. I didn’t know directions, but I turned the car on the down grade, figuring I wanted to get towards the valley.
Chapter Two
Bertha Cool pushed aside the Monday-morning accumulation of mail, lit a cigarette, looked across the desk at me, and said, “For Pete’s sake, Donald! You’ve been fighting again!”
I sat down in the chair across from the desk. “It wasn’t a fight.”
“What was it?”
“I was escorted out of town.”