"I think I can make it down the mountain before dark, Old Timer," I called over to him. "You can come along if you like."
The acne-faced kid behind the counter stared at me. I looked over and caught the bright little eyes of Haskel, the proprietor, too. Finally, the old professor turned on his stool, his face pale and his eyes sad and resigned.
"I doubt very much if either of us will be leaving, Mr. Madison," he said. "Now."
I took my beer and the professor his coffee over to the single booth. We looked at each other across the shiny table and our beverage containers.
"I am Doctor Arnold Parnell of Duke University," the professor said. "I left on my sabbatical five months ago. I have been here ever since."
I looked at his clothes. "You must not have been very well fixed for a year's vacation, Professor."
"I," he said, "have enough traveler's checks with me to paper a washroom. Nobody in this town will cash them for me."
"I can understand why you want to go somewhere where people are more trusting in that case."
"They know the checks are good. It's me they refuse to trust to leave this place. They think they can't let me go."