Leaving the potatoes in their huge kettle, he carried it in and put it in the center of the table. Ted brought the platter of pork chops and returned to the kitchen for coffee. Al passed him with two plates of biscuits. "Chow." Jack Callahan, who had been so grim and unrelenting and now seemed to regret it, smiled. "Whew! Are four of us going to eat that?" "If we can." "I'll do my darndest." "You're s'posed to." "Doggonit, Al," Callahan said plaintively, "don't blame me for this. I have a job and I intend to do it!" "I know." "There's nothing personal." "I know that, too." "Do you have to be so gloomy?" "What'd you do if you was on your way to jail? Turn handsprings?" Loring Blade grinned mirthlessly, speared two pork chops and added a generous helping of potatoes. He broke a hot biscuit and lathered it with butter. The game warden began to eat. "Seen Damon and Pythias lately?" he asked companionably. "Nope." Loring Blade looked down at his plate. Under ordinary circumstances they could have made easy conversation. But circumstances weren't ordinary; the shadow of one in trouble cast its pall over the other three. The game warden ate a pork chop and some of his potatoes. Then, unable to refrain from talking about that which loomed so largely, he burst out, "Al, for pete's sake! If you have anything to say, say it! If you shot in self-defense, I, for one, will buy the story. There's a way out if you'll take it!" "I've told my story, Lorin'." "You refuse to admit you shot Delbert?" "I didn't shoot him." Callahan said, "There's evidence to the contrary." "So?" Ted toyed with a single pork chop, one potato, and almost gagged. He took a drink of hot coffee and found it stimulating. Tammie, lying on the bearskin, looked questioningly at his master. Loring Blade pushed his plate back. "I'm full. Told you you cooked far too much." "No harm's done." "We'll help you clean up." "Right nice of you." Al put the uneaten pork chops, a great pile of them, in two covered dishes and placed them in the refrigerator. He covered the kettle of potatoes and left them on the table, and put the biscuits in the breadbox. Ted washed the dishes and Loring Blade dried them. While he worked Ted brought some order to his scattered thoughts. His father was in trouble, serious trouble, and nothing mattered now except getting him out. That meant the services of a skilled attorney and they had little money. But he could sell the camp for at least as much as it had cost and probably he could get a job in Lorton. Ted washed the last plate and Loring Blade dried it. There was an uneasy interval during which nobody did or said anything because nobody knew what to do or say. Finally Loring Blade asked, "Are you ready, Al?" "Yep." "Shall we go?" "Guess so." Ted said firmly, "I'm following you in. I'm going to see John McLean tonight. He's a good lawyer." There was a ring of command in Al's voice, "No, Ted!" "But--"