THE Nick Adams STORIES by Ernest Hemingway Page A

him.”
    â€œWhere are the other kids?”
    â€œThey’re visiting at Charlevoix.”
    â€œWho are they visiting?”
    â€œI don’t know. She doesn’t know. They went to the dance and they were going to stay over Sunday with friends.”
    â€œWho was that kid that was around here yesterday?”
    â€œI didn’t see any kid around here yesterday.”
    â€œThere was.”
    â€œMaybe some friend of the children asking for them. Maybe some resorter’s kid. Was it a boy or a girl?”
    â€œA girl about eleven or twelve. Brown hair and brown eyes. Freckles. Very tanned. Wearing overalls and a boy’s shirt. Barefooted.”
    â€œSounds like anybody,” the hired girl said. “Did you say eleven or twelve years old?”
    â€œOh, shit,” said the man from down state. “You can’t get anything out of these mossbacks.”
    â€œIf I’m a mossback what’s he?” the hired girl looked at the local warden. “What’s Mr. Evans? His kids and me went to the same schoolhouse.”
    â€œWho was the girl?” Evans asked her. “Come on, Suzy. I can find out anyway.”
    â€œI wouldn’t know,” Suzy, the hired girl, said, “it seems like all kinds of people come by here now. I feel just like I’m in a big city.”
    â€œYou don’t want to get in any trouble, do you, Suzy?” Evans said.
    â€œNo, sir.”
    â€œI mean it.”
    â€œYou don’t want to get in any trouble either, do you?” Suzy asked him.
    Out at the barn after they were hitched up the down-state man said, “We didn’t do so good, did we?”
    â€œHe’s loose now,” Evans said. “He’s got grub and he must have his rifle. But he’s still in the area. I can get him. Can you track?”
    â€œNo. Not really. Can you?”
    â€œIn snow,” the other warden laughed.
    â€œBut we don’t have to track. We have to think out where he’ll be.”
    â€œHe didn’t load up with all that stuff to go south. He’d just take a little something and head for the railway.”
    â€œI couldn’t tell what was missing from the woodshed. But he had a big pack load from the kitchen. He’s heading in somewhere. I got to check on all his habits and his friends and where he used to go. You block him off at Charlevoix and Petoskey and St. Ignace and Sheboygan. Where would you go if you were him?”
    â€œI’d go to the Upper Peninsula.”
    â€œMe, too. He’s been up there, too. The ferry is the easiest place to pick him up. But there’s an awful big country between here and Sheboygan and he knows that country, too.”
    â€œWe better go down and see Packard. We were going to check that today.”
    â€œWhat’s to prevent him going down by East Jordan and Grand Traverse?”
    â€œNothing. But that isn’t his country. He’ll go some place that he knows.”
    Suzy came out when they were opening the gate in the fence.
    â€œCan I ride down to the store with you? I’ve got to get some groceries.”
    â€œWhat makes you think we’re going to the store?”
    â€œYesterday you were talking about going to see Mr. Packard.”
    â€œHow are you going to get your groceries back?”
    â€œI guess I can get a lift with somebody on the road or coming up the lake. This is Saturday.”
    â€œAll right. Climb up,” the local warden said.
    â€œThank you, Mr. Evans,” Suzy said.
    At the general store and post office Evans hitched the team at the rack and he and the down-state man stood and talked before they went in.
    â€œI couldn’t say anything with that damned Suzy.”
    â€œSure.”
    â€œPackard’s a fine man. There isn’t anybody better-liked in this country. You’d never get a conviction on that trout business against him. Nobody’s going to scare him and we don’t want to