Thus passed his second month, which might be called his pessimistic
month. But he did not take his money and go. He decided that he would
wait until he had grown a beard before he ventured. He realized
bitterly that he was a fugitive, and that it would go hard with him
now if he were caught. From the papers which Supervisor Ross had sent
him every week he had learned that the police were actually and
definitely looking for him. At least they had been a month ago, and he
supposed that they had not given up the search, even though later
events had pushed his disgrace out of print. The man they had shot was
hovering close to death in a hospital, the last Jack read of the case.
It certainly would be wiser to wait a while. So he took his camp
outfit to Taylor Rock again and stayed there until his four days were
gone.

That time he killed a deer and got a shot at a young bear, and came
back to his post in a fairly good humor. The little glass room had a
homey look, with the late afternoon sunlight lying warm upon the map
and his piles of magazines and papers stacked neatly on their shelf.
Since he could not be where he wanted to be, Jack felt that he would
rather be here than anywhere else. So his third month began with a
bleak kind of content.




CHAPTER EIGHT

IN WHICH A GIRL PLAYS BILLIARDS ON THE MOUNTAIN TOP