CHAPTER ONE
The Big Cats
“Why don’t you call them tonight? We’ve got to know pretty soon.”
The speaker was Arthur Cook, a deeply tanned giant of a man with close-cropped graying hair, whose piercing blue eyes told of a lifetime spent in open spaces. He was talking to a boy of sixteen who had wrapped himself around a dining-room chair and was staring thoughtfully down at a map on the table.
“What do you say, Sandy?” Mr. Cook urged. “Want me to ring the operator?”
Sandy Steele looked up with sudden decision. “All right,” he said. “We’ll get it settled right now.”
“That’s the ticket!” chimed in Mr. Cook’s son, Michael, as he shouldered his way through the swinging kitchen door, a glass of milk in one hand and an enormous slice of layer cake in the other. “Then we can start making plans right away.”
“If you think you can spare us the time from your hobby,” his father said dryly.
“Hobby?” Mike’s jaws closed down over the cake. “What hobby?”
“Eating. Or has it become a full-time job with you?” Mr. Cook turned to Sandy. “Ever see anybody eat so much?”