But none came.
He fumbled for the bedside lamp, turned it on, then got out of bed and got dressed in the hunting clothes he had worn the day before. If nothing else, he decided, he would walk back through the woods to the drop zone and see for himself what it looked like at dawn.
Then he would come back to the house and see about something to eat.
He sensed, when he entered the main room of the lodge, that there was someone there, someone watching him.
The room was lit now only by embers in the huge fireplace before which in happier times the aristocracy had staged their little tableaux vivants. He looked around, but he saw nothing.
Then Alois, the chief hunter, rose out of a huge upholstered chair near the fireplace. Its bulk and high sides had hidden him. He was fully dressed and had
apparently slept overnight in the chair as a sort of guard. He was wearing a heavy poncho like garment of gray wool, and he had his shotgun.
“Good morning,” Canidy said, smiling.
Alois grunted.
“I need a flashlight,” Canidy said.
There was confusion on Alois’s face.
Canidy mimed a flashlight, and lighting a path with one.
Alois grunted again and left the room. He returned with two flashlights, a square light with a handle, and a tiny two-cell that looked like a child’s toy. He extended both to Canidy, offering him his choice.
Canidy took the larger light and walked to the door. Alois didn’t move, but by the time Canidy had unlatched the chains and dead bolts, he became aware that Alois had moved soundlessly across the room and was standing behind him.
Somewhere, far off, there was the sound of aircraft engines.
The beam of his light picked out their footsteps in the snow from the day before, and Canidy, with Alois following him, walked away from the lodge toward the forest and the meadow beyond it.
Concentrating on not losing the path or his footing in the dark, Canidy didn’t pay much attention to the sound of the aircraft engines far away–until they suddenly seemed much closer.
He looked up into the sky.
Jesus! Those sound like Twin Wasps!
He broke into a trot, slipping and sliding on the frozen snow.
When he reached the meadow, it was light enough to see the meadow and the area beyond. But there was no aircraft in sight, and it was only when he strained his ears that he could convince himself that he could just barely hear the sound of faraway engines.
Whatever it was, it was not for me. I should have known better. There’s no way that could have been a Gooney Bird; no way they could have gotten a team here this quick. Now I look like a horse’s ass in front of Alois.
He met the large Hungarian’s eyes and shrugged.
And then he was sure the sound of the engines receding had changed, that it was growing louder. And it kept going in and out, growing louder then fainter, then louder again.
And all of a sudden, it was very loud. A Gooney Bird appeared at the end of the meadow where the trees had been cut, its engine roar now deafening, and flashed overhead no more than two hundred feet off the ground. And there was no mistaking the star-in-a-bar U.S. identification painted on the wing.
“Jesus, Maria, und Josef!
“Alois said.
The Gooney Bird banked, then disappeared from sight.
Canidy stuck two fingers in his mouth, then raised them over his head to confirm his suspicion that the wind was coming from the direction of the stream and the cut-over area.
He ran to the pile of pine boughs. He could just make out a shining glint underneath that had to be the kerosene.
He dug it out. It was a five-gallon tin can, bearing a Shell logotype. A sealed tin can, he saw when he unscrewed the cap. There was a seal over the hole he would have to pry out before he could pour the kerosene.
He changed his mind and threw the can atop the pile of boughs. And then he gestured to Alois.