Dawson didn’t answer, and Mills stood up and followed Red and Tim out the door and along the corridor. When they were back in their room Mills said, “That man’s behavior is downright unsettling.” They lay down on their bunks, and after a while Dawson came in and stretched out on his bunk, without taking off his blouse. Soon he breathed steadily in a seesaw chorus with Mills. Tim thought again about Kate’s map. She must have searched her soul before she mailed it. That map, drawn with such painstaking care, might show him the way to his death. But she must have known he would never rest until he’d tried to get away. Until now Kate had been waiting at the end of the trail--warm and lovely but far away. All at once it seemed she was very close, her faith and understanding sending him on his way, making him impatient to be free, no matter what hardships freedom might bring. Red stirred, and Tim whispered, “Red, you awake?” “Yes.” “Wish Peter could go along.” “So do I.” “You got any worries?” “Not really. Good night, lad.” CHAPTER THIRTEEN After breakfast some of the prisoners gathered in the common room. Red’s calm began to disappear. As soon as Addison left the floor Red pulled a list from his side pocket. He and Tim went over it one last time. Six quarts of corn, parched and ground, were waiting in the Navy kitchen. Extra woolen underclothes and socks, a paper of salt for each of them, a piece of soap, some lucifer matches and tin cups; these things were packed into the haversacks concealed behind the boiler in the kitchen. “Toothbrushes, family photographs and such can go in our pockets,” Tim said. “That just leaves blankets.” Red gave the paper one last look, then tore it up and threw the scraps on the ashes from the night before, turning them under with the toe of his boot. Mills asked, “When will you set the dummies up?” Red said, “It can’t be now, or two of us will be in our stocking feet all day.” A man named Allen leaned against the wall by the door. “I have an extra pair of boots,” he said. “They’re no good for wearing but you’re welcome to them if they’ll be of use.” Mill’s good blanket, his boots and an extra blouse would be used to make the dummy on Tim’s bunk. There was one spare blanket, ragged and full of holes. They would tear it in two. Mills would cover himself with half and they would use the other half for Red’s bunk, with Allen’s boots and an extra pair of pants stuffed with dirty clothes. Mills leaned against the chimney, his thin wrists and long hands sticking out from his tattered blouse. His face was pale but not so thin as it had been when Tim had first seen him slump to the floor in this same room. His spirit had mended somehow. Mills looked at Tim with a faint familiar humor in his face. “I could never make a trip like that, you know.” He measured the thickness of his thigh with his bony hands. “I have nothing in reserve.” “You can make it in the spring,” Tim said.