4
A circle of three-mile radius has an area of slightly over twenty-eight square miles, or roughly eighteen thousand acres. It follows that the map prepared by Roger and Edith Wing was not as detailed as it might have been. On the other hand, as their father was forced to admit, a tree-covered mountain side does not offer too many details to put on a map; and the effort the children turned in did show every creek and trail of which Mr. Wing had knowledge. Still more to the point, it showed clearly that they had actually travelled over the area in question. This was the defect in the girl’s experience which he had wanted corrected before she was released from the “stick-to-the-trail” rule.
He looked up presently from the tattered notebook. The family was gathered around the fireplace again, and the two cartographers were ensconced on either arm of his chair. Don was on the floor between the seats with Billy draped across his neck; Marjorie was in her mother’s lap. All were listening for the verdict.
“You seem to have done a pretty good job here,” Mr. Wing said at last. “Certainly anyone could find his way around the area with the aid of this map. Edie, how do you think you could do
“All right, Dad, I’m sure,” the girl replied in a slightly surprised tone. “Do I have to?” Her father shrugged.
“You know best whether you want to carry this with you all the time. No, you don’t have to, as far as I’m concerned. How have the two of you made out on the patrol schedule?” Roger took over the conversation, curling a little closer to his father’s shoulder and using the map to illustrate his points.
“There are eight trails leading into the three-mile circle at different points. Don and I used to go around the circle each day, going along each one far enough to be sure no one had been using it. There are spots on each which it’s practically impossible to go through without leaving some sort of trail. Going from one trail to another we’d try to cut across places of the same sort — where we could tell if people had been through.
“This time we’re working it a little differently. I’m still checking the ends of those trails, but we’ve been listing places from which people could watch anyone bound away from here — there aren’t nearly so many of those. Edie can cover nearly all of them in two hour-and-a-half walks morning and afternoon — we’ve tried it; and I can do the rest when I take the outer trails. That’s a lot like the way you’ve always worked it when you were going out, anyway; you took a zigzag path, and had us checking for watchers, so that one of us could cut across and warn you if we saw anyone — we never have, that I can remember, but I don’t suppose that proves anything.” Mr, Wing smiled briefly.
“I may be stretching the precautions a little too far,” he said. “Still I have certain reasons for not wanting the place I get the metal to become known. Half a dozen of the reasons are in this room with me. Besides, I think you get fun out of it, and I know it keeps you outdoors where you ought to be this time of year. If two or three more of you grow up to be scientists, we may be able to do some work together that will let us forget about secrecy.”
The younger girl, who had been displaying increasing signs of indignation during her brother’s talk, cut in the instant she thought her father had finished.
“Daddy, I thought I was supposed to be helping with this. I heard Roger say so yesterday, and you said it the first night.”
“Oh? And how did you hear what I said that night? As I recall, the matter was not discussed until after you were in bed. What I said then goes — you can go with either Roger or Edie on their walks, but you still observe the limits when you’re by yourself. Billie, you too! There’ll be plenty of long trips for all of you, without your having to go off on your own, and there’s always been plenty to keep you occupied around here. I’ve been promising for five or six years to get a load of cement up here if you folks would get enough loose rock together to make a dam out here — I’d like a swimming pool myself. Don doesn’t think we need cement for it, but that’s something he’ll have to prove. I’ll be glad if he can do without it, of course.” He leaned back and stretched his legs. Billy promptly transferred his perch from Don’s shoulders to his father’s shins, and put his own oar into the conversation. He wanted one of the trips before his father went prospecting, and expressed himself at considerable length on the subject. Mr. Wing remained non-committal until the striking of the clock brought relief. He pulled in his legs abruptly, depositing the youngster on the floor.
“Small fry to bed!” he pronounced solemnly.
“Story!” yelled Margie. “You haven’t read since we got here!” Her father pursed his lips.
“How long do you suppose it would take them to be ready for bed?” he asked, as though to himself. There was a flurry of departing legs. Mr. Wing turned to the bookcase beside the fireplace, and encountered the grinning face of his second son. “All right, young man, we need some fun — but some of us need discipline, too. Suppose you and Edie save time by popping upstairs and imitating the excellent example of your juniors!” Still chuckling, the two did so.
For some reason, the story lasted until quite late. The beginning was vastly exciting, but the pace calmed down later, and Billy and Margie were both carried up to bed at the end — though they refused to believe the fact in the morning.
Roger tried at breakfast to make the small boy tell the end of the story and was surprised when Billy refused to accept his inability to do so as evidence that he had been asleep. The older boy gave up at last and went to saddle the horses; he was constitutionally unfitted to hold his own in an argument where the opponent’s only words were “I was not either!”
It was shopping day, and Roger’s turn to go down to Clark Fork with his mother to obtain the necessities for the next week. They left as soon after breakfast as the animals could be readied. Edie and the younger children went off on their own; as soon as everyone was away from the house Mr. Wing and Don dressed themselves in hiking clothes and headed east. Roger would have given much to see them go.
The trails were good, and for a couple of hours the two made very satisfactory progress. For the most part they followed the creeks, but once or twice the older man led the way over open spurs of rock which involved considerable climbing.
“This is about the quickest way to the transmitter, Don,” he said at one point. “It’s a lot closer to the house than even your mother realizes — though goodness knows I wouldn’t hide it from her if she cared to come on one of these hikes. On the regular trips, I follow a very roundabout path I worked out years ago when I was really afraid of being followed. That was just after the first World War, long before I’d even met your mother. There were a number of people around this part of the country then who would cheerfully have tossed me off a hilltop for a fraction of the value I brought back from the first trip. I tell you, I did some pretty serious thinking on the way in from that trip. You’ll see why very shortly.”
Don made no immediate answer to this. His attention seemed to be fully taken up with negotiating the slope of loose rock they were traversing at the moment. It was a section practically impossible to cross without leaving prominent traces, and he had been a little puzzled at his father’s going this way until he realized that the idea was probably to permit a check on any trailers as they returned. Once across the treacherous stuff and angling back down the slope, he finally spoke.
“You said a while back, Dad, that we were the reasons you didn’t make public this source of metal. It seems to me that even that shouldn’t have carried weight while the war was on — it might have been better to let the government develop the find and use it. I don’t mean that I don’t appreciate getting a college education, but — well—” he paused a little uncomfortably.
“You have a point, son, and that was another matter for thought when the war started, with you in high school and Billy just learning to walk. I think I might have done as you suggest, except for the fact that the most probable result of publicity would be to remove the source of metal. Just be patient a little longer — we’ll be there in a few minutes, and you will see for yourself.”
Donald nodded acceptance of this, and they proceeded in silence for a short time. The course Mr. Wing was following had led them into a narrow gully after crossing the scree; now he turned up this, making his way easily along the bank of the tiny brook which flowed down its center. After some ten minutes’ climb the trees began to thin out, and a few more rods found them on practically bare rock. This extended for some distance above them, but the older man seemed to have no desire to get to the top of the hill.
Instead, he turned again, moving quickly across the bare rock as though a path were plainly marked before him; and in a few steps reached the edge of a shallow declivity which appeared to have acted as a catch basin for
