“That lets you out then, Jerry,” Quiz said, grinning.
“Okay, wise guy.” Jerry thrust his lantern jaw out indignantly. “Just you wait till we’re camping out in the deep woods—hundreds of miles from civilization, with no one around to hear your deathly screams.”
The driver interrupted this byplay, pointing to a patch of blue between the trunks of the giant pines. “There, you can see the lake now, fellers. Five minutes more, we’ll be at Mr. Steele’s camp.” He caught Sandy’s eye in the rear-view mirror. “You’re Russ Steele’s nephew, ain’t you?”
“Yes, sir.”
The driver nodded. “Great man, Russ Steele. My son was in his division in Korea. Said General Steele was the best CO any outfit ever had. Used to be real interested in his men. My boy said the dogfaces swore by him.”
“Uncle Russ is a regular guy all right,” Sandy said.
“I’ll say,” Jerry put in. “How many big shots like him would spend their summer vacations taking a bunch of teen-agers on a camping trip?”
The driver looked surprised. “Russ never talks about his work. Is he really a big shot?”
“Mr. Steele is vice president in charge of research of World Dynamics Corporation,” Quiz explained loftily. “That’s the firm that does all that secret government work.”
The driver tipped back his straw hat. “Well, now, I never would’ve guessed it. He sure don’t act it.”