They entered the ranger station. Behind the counter, one of the four rangers on permanent duty at the station was transferring a radar storm plot onto a weather chart. He glanced up as the two men entered.
"Back so soon," he commented. "That was a quick trip. Get the job done?"
"Neither rain, snow or sun stops the Division of Agriculture in its appointed rounds," Troy said flippantly. "Harry, call Spokane and tell 'em we're ready for a pickup, please."
The ranger reached for a mike. "Spokane Region," he called, "this is Elk City station."
"This is Spokane," came the reply.
"Your two snow boys are here," Harry said, "looking for a lift. Can you send a 'copter after them?"
"Affirmative, Elk City," Spokane communicator replied. "We'll pick them up in about forty-five minutes."
"Thanks, Harry," Troy said. "We're going to take a walk uptown and get something to eat. If the chopper should get here sooner, tell him we'll be right back."
"O.K.," the ranger said, "but there's a pot of coffee on the stove in the kitchen if you want to save yourself the walk."
Alec grimaced. "I had a cup of that concentrated sulphuric acid you call coffee on the way up," he said. "No thanks, anyway. What do you make that stuff out of? Leftover road oil?"