10
PARTISAN REVIEW
The Chief raised his heavy chin slightly from his chest to ac–
knowledge the voice, but he said nothing.
"I don't mean to butt in," the man proceeded diffidently, "but
-what's to stop us from just driving it out ourselves?"
The Chief relighted his cigar. "Nothing," he said simply, wav–
ing the match that would not go out. "That what you want to do?"
In the back seat Charlie chuckled to himself.
But the man pressed on impatiently. "Oh I know the fire truck's
coming but that does seem like more trouble .. .
If
we could just
drive it out-it got in there without any trouble."
"Looks like it, don't it," the Chief said blankly, still without
looking at him.
"Mister," Charlie said. The man in the front seat turned about
politely. "I reckon the gas tank's empty, don't you know. And I
reckon there ain't no spark. And I reckon Doc Bentley's got to do
his business first, don't you know."
"I see," he said unhappily. He took off his hat and ran his
palm lightly over his brushy hair and sighed. "Well, it's an awful
thing, I'll say that much."
"It is, oh it is," Charlie admitted.
"The funny thing is why we were out here," he went on. "We
don't come this way often- except the first walking Sundays. Grace
likes to come here and hunt for trillium."
"Have to come regular now," the Chief observed, yawning.
He shook his head. "My God but it hits you. Grace-she was
hysterical right up till a minute before you got here. Shook me
up, too."
The Chief looked over at him sharply: "You should've kept
your hands off that goddam paper box."
"I know it," he said. He raised one hand to his eyes and then,
dropping it suddenly, he said very earnestly to the Chief:
"You haven't got any idea who it is?"
"What-that?" The Chief jerked his head back toward the
grove, and shrugged. "Guess somebody from the hospital with that
white uniform. I don't know. You know, Charlie?" he asked, glanc–
ing up at the mirror above the windshield.
"No idea, Chief," Charlie answered, lighting a cigarette.
"Smoke, anybody?"
