“It is a good thing the bears didn’t find him and eat him up.”
“B’ars don’t eat men up.”
“I hope dad isn’t in the woods still. I saw him go into the woods, away upriver, but he said he would come here for me in a few weeks.”
“Sure, he come here for you. Come in two-t’ree days now, maybe.”
“If he was sick and got lost in the woods like the man in the big spare room, what would happen to him, Noel?”
“What happen to him if he get lost in de woods, hey? Same what happen to dis feller—me an’ Jim McAllister an’ dese here dogs find ’im. Nobody git lost ’round here widout we find ’im quick an’ fetch ’im home.”
Jim drove away soon after dinner, headed for Woodstock and Doctor Scott. He reached the town in two hours. He drove to the doctor’s house, only to learn that the doctor was out in the country, downriver, and wasn’t expected home for an hour or two.
Jim stabled the mare, treated himself to a big cigar and strolled along Front Street. He was greeted by several people he knew. Soon he was greeted by a man he didn’t know but who evidently knew him.
“Yer Jim McAllister, ain’t you?” inquired the stranger, halting squarely in his path.
The stranger wore the uniform of a policeman. Jim didn’t like his looks or his voice.