Silent, but seething inwardly, Al joined Ted in the kitchen. Knowing something was amiss, but not what he could do about it, Tammie lay down woefully on his bearskin rug. Wanting to speak, but not knowing what to say, Ted looked dully at his father's face. It was unreadable. Finally Al said, "We'll all feel better when we've had a bite to eat, and I for one am hungry." He lighted a burner and stooped to take a kettle from beneath the sink. Ted stared his astonishment. Al had the huge kettle, the one they used when there were ten or more hunters staying with them. Half-filling it with water, he put it over the burner to heat and took an unopened peck of potatoes from their storage place. Industriously he began to peel them. Ted said, "Dad--" "We'll need plenty," Al broke in. "S'pose you get about four more parcels of pork chops out and start 'em cookin?" "But, Dad--" "Let's not," Al whirled almost savagely, "waste our time talkin'. Let's just do it." Sick with fear, Ted did as directed. He and Al froze pork chops six to a package, and three were all a hungry man wanted. Four more packages meant that they would cook thirty pork chops, and what were any four men--even four ravenous men--to do with them? Ted got four more packages out and began breaking them apart. He stole a sidewise glance at his father. Had this sudden, terrible accusation unseated Al's reason? Ted put the still frozen pork chops into two of their biggest skillets and began thawing them over burners. Loring Blade came into the kitchen. "Can I help?" Al said, "Reckon not, Lorin'." "My gosh! You're making enough for an army!" "Might's well have plenty. Ted, give me another sack of biscuit mix." Ted's head whirled. He licked dry lips and looked at the two pans of biscuits Al had already prepared. Loring Blade turned away and in that instant when they were unobserved, Al shook a warning head. Ted took another sack of biscuit mix from the cupboard while cold fear gnawed at him as a dog gnaws a bone. If there was some idea behind this madness, what could it possibly be? Al was preparing enough food for a dozen men. Ted turned to his skillets full of sputtering pork chops while Al tested the boiling potatoes with a fork. "Most done," he commented. "How you comin'?" "Another five minutes." "Guess I can drain the spuds." He drained them into the sink, shook them, and added a generous hand full of salt and a bit of pepper. He shook the kettle of potatoes again to mix the seasoning thoroughly. Then he put them on the table and pushed the hot coffee pot to a warming burner. While Ted took their biggest platter from the cupboard and began forking pork chops onto it, Al slipped in to set four places at the table. "Ready?" "All ready." "Guess we can eat, then."