The Lookout Man, Page 4

  CHAPTER FOUR

  JACK FINDS HIMSELF IN POSSESSION OF A JOB

  Writing his name on the hotel register was an embarrassing ceremonythat had not occurred to Jack until he walked up the steps and intothe bare little office. Some instinct of pride made him shrink fromtaking a name that did not belong to him, and he was afraid to writehis own in so public a place. So he ducked into the dining room whencecame the muffled clatter of dishes and an odor of fried beefsteak, asa perfectly plausible means of dodging the issue for a while.

  He ate as slowly as he dared and as long as he could swallow, and whenhe left was lucky enough to find the office occupied only by a bigyellow cat curled up on the desk with the pen between its paws. Itseemed a shame to disturb the cat. He went by it on his toes andpassed on down the steps and into the full face of the town lyingthere cupped in green hills and with a sunshiny quiet that made theworld seem farther away than ever.

  A couple of men were walking down the street and stopping now and thento talk to those they met. Jack followed aimlessly, his hands in hispockets, his new Stetson--that did not look so unusual here inQuincy--pulled well down over his eyebrows and giving his face anunaccustomed look of purposefulness. Those he met carried letters andpapers in their hands; those he followed went empty handed, so Jackguessed that he was observing the regular morning pilgrimage to thepostoffice--which, had he only known it, really begins the day inQuincy.

  He did not expect any mail, of course; but there seemed nothing elsefor him to do, no other place for him to go; and he was afraid that ifhe stayed around the hotel some one might ask him to register. Hewent, therefore, to the postoffice and stood just outside the doorwith his hands still in his pockets and the purposeful look on hisface; whereas no man was ever more completely adrift and purposelessthan was Jack Corey. Now that he had lost himself from theworld--buried himself up here in these wonderfully green mountainswhere no one would ever think of looking for him--there seemed nothingat all to do. He did not even want to go fishing. And as forjourneying on to that lake which the peanut butcher had talked so muchabout, Jack had never for one minute intended going there.

  A tall man with shrewd blue eyes twinkling behind goldrimmed glassescame out and stood in the pleasant warmth of the sun. He had a lot ofmail under his arm and a San Francisco paper spread before him. Jackslanted a glance or two toward the paper, and at the second glance hegulped.

  "Los Angeles Auto Bandits Trailed" stared out at him accusingly like apointed finger. Underneath, in smaller type, that was black as themeaning that it bore for him, were the words: "SensationalDevelopments Expected."

  Jack did not dare look again, lest he betray to the shrewd eyes behindthe glasses a guilty interest in the article. He took his cigarettefrom his mouth and moistened his lips, and tried to hide the tremblingof his fingers by flicking off the ash. As soon as he dared he walkedon down the street, and straightway found that he was walking himselfout of town altogether. He turned his head and looked back, saw thetall man glancing after him, and went on briskly, with some effortholding himself back from running like a fool. He felt that he hadblundered in coming down this way, where there was nothing but ablacksmith shop and a few small cottages set in trim lawns. The tallman would know that he had no business down here, and he would wonderwho he was and what he was after. And once that tall man began towonder....

  "Auto Bandits Trailed!" seemed to Jack to be painted on his back.That headline must mean him, because he did not believe that any ofthe others would think to get out of town before daylight as he haddone. Probably that article had Jack's description in it.

  He no longer felt that he had lost himself; instead, he felt trappedby the very mountains that five minutes ago had seemed so like asheltering wall between him and his world. He wanted to get into thedeepest forest that clothed their sides; he wanted to hide in someremote canyon.

  He turned his head again and looked back. A man was coming behind himdown the pathway which served as a pavement. He thought it was thetall man who had been reading about him in the paper, and again panicseized him--only now he had but his two feet to carry him away intosafety, instead of his mother's big new car. He glanced at the houseslike a harried animal seeking desperately for some hole to crawl into,and he saw that the little, square cottage that he had judged to be adwelling, was in reality a United States Forest Service headquarters.He had only the haziest idea of what that meant, but at least it was apublic office, and it had a door which he could close between himselfand the man that followed.

  He hurried up the walk laid across the neat little grass plot, sent ahumbly grateful glance up to the stars-and-stripes that flutteredlazily from the short flagstaff, and went in as though he had businessthere, and as though that business was urgent.

  A couple of young fellows at wide, document-littered desks looked upat him with a mild curiosity, said good morning and waited with an airof expectancy for him to state his errand. Under pretense of throwinghis cigarette outside, Jack turned and opened the door six inches orso. The man who had followed him was going past, and he did not looktoward the house. He was busy reading a newspaper while he walked, buthe was not the tall man with the shrewd blue eyes and the knowinglittle smile; which was some comfort to Jack. He closed the door andturned again toward the two; and because he knew he must furnish someplausible reason for his presence, he said the first thing that cameto his tongue--the thing that is always permissible and alwaysplausible.

  "Fellow told me I might get a job here. How about it?" Then he smiledgood-naturedly and with a secret admiration for his perfect aplomb inrising to the emergency.

  "You'll have to ask Supervisor Ross about that," said one. "He's inthere." He turned his thumb toward the rear room, the door of whichstood wide open, and bent again over the map he had been studying. Sofar as these two were concerned, Jack had evidently ceased to exist.He went, therefore, to the room where the supervisor was at workfilling in a blank of some kind; and because his impromptu speech hadseemed to fill perfectly his requirements, he repeated it to Ross inexactly the same tone of careless good nature, except that this timehe really meant part of it; because, when he came to think of it, hereally did want a job of some sort, and the very atmosphere of quiet,unhurried efficiency that pervaded the place made him wish that hemight become a part of it.

  It was a vagrant wish that might have died as quickly as it had beenborn; an impulse that had no root in any previous consideration of thematter. But Ross leaned back in his chair and was regarding himseriously, as a possible employee of the government, and Jackinstinctively squared his shoulders to meet the look.

  Followed a few questions, which Jack answered as truthfully as hedared. Ross looked him over again and asked him how he would like tobe a fireman. Whereat Jack looked bewildered.

  "What I mean by that in this case," the supervisor explained, "is thatI could put you up on Mount Hough, in the lookout station. That's--doyou know anything at all about the Forest Service, young fellow?"

  Jack blushed, gulped down a lie and came out with the truth. "I gotin this morning," he said. "I don't know a darned thing about it, butI want to get to work at something. And I guess I can learn anythingthat isn't too complicated."

  Ross laughed to himself. "About the most complicated thing you'll haveto learn," he said, "is how to put in your time. It's hard to get aman that will stay at lookout stations. Lonesome--that's all. It'sabout as bad as being a sheepherder, only you won't have any sheep forcompany. Up on Mount Hough you'll have to live in a little glass houseabout the size of this room, and do your cooking on an oil stove. Yourwork will be watching your district for fires, and reporting themhere--by phone. There's a man up there now, but he doesn't want tostay. He's been hollering for some one to take his place. You'reentitled to four days relief a month--when we send up a man to takeyour place. Aside from that you'll have to stay right up on that peak,and watch for fires. The fellow up there will show you how to use thechart and locate fires so you can tell us exactly where
it is that yousee smoke. You can't leave except when you're given permission andsome one comes to take your place. We send up your supplies and mailonce a week on a pack horse. Your pay will be seventy dollars a month.

  "I don't want you to take it unless you feel pretty sure you canstick. I'm tired of sending men up there for a week or two and havingthem phoning in here a dozen times a day about how lonesome it is,then quitting cold. We can't undertake to furnish you with amusement,and we are too busy to spend the day gossiping with you over the phonejust to help you pass the time." He snapped his mouth together asthough he meant every word of it and a great deal more. "Do you wantthe job?" he asked grimly.

  Jack heard a chuckle from the next room, and his own lips cametogether with a snap.

  "Lead me to it," he said cheerfully. "I'd stand on my head and pointthe wind with my legs for seventy dollars a month! Sounds to me like agood place to save money--what?"

  "Don't know how you'd go about spending much as long as you stayed upthere," Ross retorted drily. "It's when a man comes down that hiswages begin to melt."

  Jack considered this point, standing with his feet planted a littleapart and his hands in his pockets, which is the accepted pose of thecare-free scion of wealth who is about to distinguish himself. Hebelieved that he knew best how to ward off suspicion of his motives inthus exiling himself to a mountain top. He therefore grinned amiablyat Ross.

  "Well, then, I won't come down," he stated calmly. "What I'm lookingfor is a chance to make some money without any chance of spending it.Lead me to this said mountain with the seventy-dollar job holding downthe peak."

  Ross looked at him dubiously as though he detected a false notesomewhere. Good looking young fellows with the tangible air of thetowns and easy living did not, as a rule, take kindly to living aloneon some mountain peak. He stared up into Jack's face unwinkingly,seeking there the real purpose behind such easy acceptance.

  Jack stared back, his eyes widening and sobering a little as hediscovered that this man was not so easily put off with laughingevasion. He wondered if Ross had read the papers that morning, and ifhe, like the tall man at the postoffice, was mentally fitting him intothe description of the auto bandit that was being trailed.Instinctively he rose to the new emergency.

  "On the level, I want work and I want it right away," he said. "Beingalone won't bother me--I always get along pretty well with myself. Iwant to get ahead of the game about five hundred dollars, and thislooks to me like a good chance to pile up a few iron men. I'm game forthe lonesomeness. It's a cold dollars-and-cents proposition with me."He stopped and eyed the other a minute. "Does that answer what's inyour mind?" he asked bluntly.

  Forest Supervisor Ross turned away his glance and reached for his pen."That's all right," he half apologized. "I want you to understand whatyou're going up against, that is all. What's your name?"

  Having the question launched at him suddenly like that, Jack nearlyblurted out his own name from sheer force of habit. But his tongue washis friend for once and pronounced the last word so that Ross wrote"John Carew" without hesitation. And Jack Corey, glancing down as thesupervisor wrote, stifled a smile of satisfaction.

  "It happens to be the day when we usually send up supplies," said Rosswhen he had finished recording the fact of Jack's employment asfireman. "Our man hasn't started yet, and you can go up with him. Comeback here in an hour, can you? There'll be a saddle horse for you.Don't try to take too much baggage. Suitcase, maybe. You can phonedown for anything you need that you haven't got with you, you know. Itwill go up next trip. Clothes and grub and tobacco and such asthat--use your own judgment, and common sense."

  "All right. Er--thank you, sir." Jack blushed a bit over theunaccustomed courtesy of his tone, and turned into the outer office.

  "Oh--Carew! Don't fall into the fool habit of throwing rocks down intothe lake just to see them bounce! One fellow did that, and came neargetting a tourist. You'll have to be careful."

  "I certainly will, Mr. Ross."

  The other two men gave him a friendly nod, and Jack went out of theoffice feeling almost as cheerful as he had tried to appear.