The four soaked men working around the tow truck didn't even answer. One of them gestured down the road with an arm and they went back to trying to get a line to a car that had gone off the road. It was now roof-deep in the torrent that had once been a drainage ditch, and up to five minutes ago it had looked as though something was moving behind the windshield. The man in the jeep spat into the rain and drove on. He finally found the burgess's car parked with its lights on, along with a couple of others, a few yards from the edge of the river. That was crazy, he thought, why didn't they park them up on the highway, twenty-five feet above the water? Then he remembered that he was on the highway. "Man wants you, Henry." The burgess turned around to face his chief of police. "If it's that Artie Chesbro again, tell him to take his goddamn car and--" "No. Lloyd Eisele--don't know if you know him, he's got a dairy farm up in the hills." "Then why didn't he have sense enough to stay there?" "His boy's a radio ham, Henry. He's got a message for you." Burgess Starkman snapped at the man: "Well?" The dairy farmer said, "The kid has a contact with a phone line open to the Civil Defense Filter Center in Springfield. They want an estimate of damage; they want to know what help and supplies you'll need in the morning. And they've got instructions for you." He took a piece of paper out of his pocket and handed it over. Burgess Starkman said to his chief of police, "What do you think? Should I send somebody back with him to talk to them?" "Sprayragen," said Chief Brayer promptly. "He's too old for this anyhow. Let him sit down for a while." He went off to get him. The dairy farmer looked around at the cars, the fire engine, the men with flashlights and electric lanterns moving around in the downpour. "Something happen?" he wanted to know. "You could say that," the burgess said wearily. "There was a boy's camp a mile up the river. It's gone now, and eight of the kids are missing. We put a boat in the water, and all that happened was we lost a boat." He glanced at the dairy farmer. "How'd you know where to find me? Have you been in Hebertown?" The dairy farmer nodded. "Is it bad there?" The dairy farmer coughed. "You haven't been in town for a while, have you?" He didn't look at the burgess. "The water was up to the corner where the Moose building is--you know? Somebody told me all the stores on Front Street are gone." He went on from there. By the time the chief of police got back with old Sprayragen the burgess had pieced together an ugly picture. As the jeep turned around, Burgess Starkman yelled, "Oh, by the way--thanks!" He looked blankly at Brayer. "Did you hear what he said?"