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. You don t know where he went or what he found? I tried to follow him, De Karsky admitted. Butit s wild country, and Hank is an experienced desertrat.He goes off on his own every so often. Isn t that dangerous? It can be, if you don t know what you re doing.You can die of dehydration out there pretty fast.Welose a few poor damn-fool tourists every year that way.Some of them were only half a mile from a highway,wandering around in circles, when they died.But Hankknows his way around. Well, I said optimistically, maybe this theorywon t be as crazy as the last one. And if it is? Then I ll tell him so. Then you won t even last a week. That s okay with me.I told you I wouldn t haveyour job.I think it s contemptible. The job is contemptible? You are, too. Well. De Karsky moved his hands on the 42 / Elizabeth Peterswheel as if he were squeezing something soft, like athroat. Well.We ve got that straight, haven t we? Right. Right.I suppose if I were to tell you at this pointthat I had hoped to talk you into going home as soonas possible you d suspect my motives. Right again. Then I won t try.You ll have to take your lumps. What lumps? Never mind.You wouldn t believe me. He was si-lent for a moment, staring straight ahead with the samepuzzled frown he had worn when he spoke of Hank slatest enthusiasm. Maybe I m wrong, he said, as ifto himself. I hope to God I am. CHAPTER 3De Karsky s final comment not one of the most en-couraging remarks I have ever heard was his lastconversational effort for the remainder of the trip.Hedidn t even snarl when I started playing with the but-tons again, so I gave that up.There was plenty to occupy my eyes and my brain.The country wasn t real desert, with great rolling sanddunes.It had enough water to support some plant life:cacti of all shapes and sizes, including the strikingmonumental saguaro, plus low brownish scrubbyplants that suggested sagebrush to my movie-fed mind.The road climbed slowly but steadily, and hills beganto close in around us.Finally they opened up, withspectacular effect, presenting a view of a beautiful greenvalley with a glittering river winding through it.Wedescended into the valley in a series of swooping loops.I bit my lip and did not comment on De Karsky sdriving.While my eyes took in the scenery, my mind43 44 / Elizabeth Petersworried at the problems De Karsky had suggested.Isaw no reason to alter my appraisal of him.He was acynical, self-seeking hypocrite, and a traitor to histraining and to common sense if he encouragedHank Hunnicutt s delusions.Naturally I dismissed De Karsky s vague hints aspart of a plan to scare me into leaving.Whether Imeant to or not, I did threaten his comfortable job.Hank might take a fancy to me.He sounded like a manof quick, irrational fancies.If he did, De Karsky wouldfind himself out in the cold.The gun if it was a gun,and not some other similarly finished tool could bepart of the same plan.De Karsky had probably envi-sioned me as a timid eastern female.Wave a gun infront of the girl, mutter ominously, and she ll run.All it did was make me more determined to stay.Another unexpected corollary unexpected even tome was that I began to feel sorry for Hank Hunnicutt.De Karsky was no different from Madame Kareninaand the other weirdos he had mentioned; they wereall intellectual vampires, making a good living out ofHank s innocence.We turned off the highway and the country got reallywild.Centuries of wind and water had carved the sur-rounding rocks into fantastic towers and spires.Theroad deteriorated as it began to climb again until finallywe were bumping along an unpaved track enclosed bylow walls of stone.The sun was a dull red ball, itsbrilliance Summer of the Dragon / 45dulled by blowing sand, balanced on the top of cliffsthat loomed up to the north
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