Wyatt Earp. I held my breath, and prayed that if he looked around under here I wouldn’t remind him too much of one of the Clanton boys.

He was picking up wood and piling it into his arm. I could have touched him. I stared with horrible fascination, and then looked away and tried not even thinking. He might feel the stare, or hear the thought.

He went out.

I was weak as the tension snapped, and I wanted to sit there and rest. Instead, I forced myself to slide noiselessly from under the bench and peer out at him. He was almost to the corner. He was turning it. I moved. Two steps out the door and a hard turn to the right and I was going around the side of the shed that was away from the cabin. I was in back of it and safe when I heard the wood fall into the box as he threw it down. I sighed. There was nothing to it now; all I had to do was fade back into the timber while keeping the shed between me and that window.

When I got back to the boat the sun was far down and the waterway was in shadow. Squatting on the bank under the trees, I hurriedly slipped the twenties from my pocket and counted them. There were forty-seven. It was even better than I’d dared hope. There was only one outstanding and unaccounted for.

The percentages were in my favor. If he’d spent it in town he’d done it more than three months ago, because he hadn’t been there since. The Nunns didn’t have it. And if they’d had it and spent it, there was a good chance the continuity of ownership was showing a blank spot or two somewhere along the line because otherwise the F.B.I, would be here sitting right in my lap at this moment.

I slipped seven of them into my wallet with the one I already had. Then, sliding over a little until I was right on the edge of the bank where it dropped off into the water, I began crumpling the rest and placing them in a little pile. The last one I folded lengthwise, twice.

I’d always wanted to do this, just once. Putting a cigarette in my mouth, I flipped the lighter, ignited the end of the folded bill, and lit the smoke. Then I shoved the torch into the pile and puffed contentedly as eight hundred dollars flared up and burned to ash. I very carefully brushed all the residue off into the lake, and then threw a bailing can full of water over it to be sure. Cranking the motor, I looked at my watch.

It was a quarter to six. With a little pushing, I should be able to make it to Exeter before that north-bound bus went through for Kansas City and Chicago.

Seven

Nunn and his fisherman hadn’t come in yet, and I saw nothing of her as I made fast to the float. I shaved and changed clothes, and walked across to the lunch-room. It was empty. “Mrs. Nunn,” I called.

She appeared in the doorway. There was something withdrawn and distant in her face as she saw me. I had the impression she wished I’d go away.

“I just wanted to tell you I was going into town for dinner,” I said. “Is there anything I can get you?”

She shook her head. “Thanks, I guess not. Are you going to fish tomorrow?”

“Yes,” I said. I started out.

“I . . .” she said. I turned. She tried again. “I’m sorry. . . .”

I’d already forgotten the unpleasant scene at noon, but no doubt it’d been a lot rougher on her. She had to live with the surly bastard. I smiled at her. “Forget it. I shouldn’t be hanging around here interfering with your work, anyway.”

She made no reply. When I went out she was still looking after me. I drove out of the bottom and over to State 41, where I turned right. Exeter was about twenty miles to the south. It was the largest town in the area, a county seat of about twelve thousand. I bought a cheap money clip in a drug-and-sundries store that was still open, and drove over and parked near the bus station. Folding the eight twenty-dollar bills plus a five and a couple of singles of my own, I clipped them together and shoved them in my pocket. It was after dark now. When the north-bound bus came in