“Doubt if he stays long. I have an idea he’s never done a day’s work in his life. When he’s got some good blisters on his hands at the sawmill he’ll light out.”

“You are good to do it, Ellen.”

“Couldn’t see a way out. Every Lockhart would turn in his grave if a Lockhart turned a stranger from the door. Can’t say as I wanted to, exactly.”

“Well, maybe that boy will learn something—‘a little touch of Willard in the night.’”

For Nick it proved to be an entertaining morning. He had never in his life come across a boy so ignorant as this one. Joel had never handled a scythe or a buzz saw, and hardly knew which end of an ax would cut, but after the business was done and the car had been towed off—and that took half of Joel’s cash—and when they had made a report to Johnny Dole, the town policeman, they drove around a while looking for the road agent.

“I’ll have to wait a day or so till this shoulder stops aching,” Joel said. “Say, could we stop a minute?” he said when they were off somewhere in the woods on a dirt road and had seen no sign of the grader. Nick eased the truck to the side of the road without a word.

“That policeman doesn’t even wear a uniform,” Joel observed, “or carry a gun.”

“Nope.”

“Why not?”

Nick scratched his head.

“Only gets paid fifty dollars a year by the town. It’s hardly a job around here. Johnny does it in his spare time, and kind of likes arresting people on the through road. It’s a game. Anything serious, the State Police come in.”

“All these dirt roads—where to?”

“Houses up most of ’em. You’d be surprised how many people live around here.”

“What do they do?” Joel asked, incredulous.

“Oh, summer people mostly.”

“Who lives in that big place we passed a while back?”

“Chapmans. You met the granddaughter—she was the one at breakfast.”

“Rich?”

“Uh-huh.”

“It’s weird,” Joel said. “Gives me the willies—all these woods. It’s sad. Lonely.”

“The deer and raccoons wouldn’t say so.”

“I feel as if I’d landed at the end of the world. What has it got to offer, man? I mean, rich people …”

“Lakes, mountains, rivers …”

“All we’ve seen is dirt roads, dirty old snow, old stone walls, undergrowth, so far.” Joel pondered. His head ached.

“I can’t seem to get adjusted,” he said, frowning. “I feel I’m in a dream ever since last night. I feel crazy in the head—tired.”

“Well,” Nick proffered, “time for dinner soon. Take it easy today. We’ll find the road agent tomorrow. O.K.?”