〃I don't remember。 Quite a long time ago。 I never knew them socially。 What are you going to do now？〃 I told him I was going up to Puma Lake； although it was a little late in the day to start。
He said I would have plenty of time and that they had an hour mcre daylight in the mountains。
I said that was fine and we hung up。
5
San Bernardino baked and shimmered in the afternoon heat。 The air was hot enough to blister my tongue。 I drove through it gasping； stopped long enough to buy a pint of liquor in case I fainted before I got to the mountains； and started up the long grade to Crestline。 In fifteen miles the road climbed five thousand feet； but even then it was far from cool。 Thirty miles of mountain driving brought me to the tall pines and a place called Bubbling Springs。 It had a clapboard store and a gas pump； but it felt like paradise。 From there on it was cool all the way。
The Puma Lake dam had an armed sentry at each end and one in the middle。 The first one I came to had me close all the windows of the car before crossing the cam。 About a hundred yards away from the dam a rope with cork floats barred the pleasure boats from ing any closer。 Beyond these details the war did not seem to have done anything much to Puma Lake。
Canoes paddled about on the blue water and rowboats with outboard motors put…putted and speedboats showing off like fresh kids made wide swathes of foam and turned on a dime and girls in them shrieked and dragged their hands in the water。 Jounced around in the wake of the speedboats people who had paid two dollars for a fishing license were trying to get a dime of it back in tired…tasting fish。
The road skimmed along a high granite outcrop and dropped to meadows of coarse grass in which grew what was left of the wild irises and white and purple lupine and bugle flowers and' columbine and penny…royal and desert paint brush。 Tall yellow pines probed at the clear blue sky。 The road dropped again tO lake level and the landscape began to be full of girls in gaudy slacks and snoods and peasant handkerchiefs and rat rolls and f atsoled sandals and fat white thighs。 People on bicycles wobbled cautiously over the highway and now and then an anxious…looking bird thumped past on a powerscooter。
A mile from the village the highway was joined by another lesser road which curved back into the mountains。 A rough wooden sign under the highway sign said： _Little Fawn Lake 1 3/4 miles_。 I took it。 Scattered cabins were perched along the slopes for the first mile and then nothing。 Presently another very narrow road debouched from this one and another rough wooden sign said： _Little Fawn Lake。 Private Road。 No Trespassing_。
I turned the Chrysler into this and crawled carefully around huge bare granite rocks and past a little waterfall and through a maze of black oak trees and ironwood and manzanita and silence。 A bluejay squawked on a branch and a squirrel scolded at me and beat one paw angrily on the pine cone it was holding。 A scarlet…topped woodpecker stopped probing in the dark long enough to look at me with one beady eye and then dodge behind the tree trunk to look at me with the other one。 I came to a five…barred gate and another sign。
Beyond the gate the road wound for a couple of hundred yards through trees and then suddenly below me was a small oval lake deep in trees and rocks and wild grass； like a drop of dew caught in a curled leaf。 At the near end of it was a rough concrete dam with a rope hand…rail across the top and an old millwheel at the side。 Near that stood a small cabin of native pine with the bark on it。
Across the lake the long way by the road and the short way by the top of the dam a large redwood cabin overhung the water and farther along； each well separated from the others； were two others cabins。 All three were shut up and quiet； with drawn curtains。 The big one had orange…yellow venetian blinds and a twelve…paned window facing on the lake。
At the far end of the lake from the dam was what looked like a small pier and a band pavilion。 A warped wooden sign on it was painted in large white letters： _Camp Kilkare_。 I couldn't see any sense in that in these surroundings； so I got out of the car and started down towards the nearest cabin。 Somewhere behind it an axe thudded。
I pounded on the cabin door。 The axe stopped。 A man's voice yelled from somewhere。 I sat down on a rock and lit a cigarette。 Steps came around the corner of the cabin； uneven steps。 A man with a harsh face and a swarthy skin came into view carrying a double…bitted axe。
He was heavily…built and not very tall and he limped as he walked； giving his right leg a little kick out with each step and swinging the foot in a shallow arc。 He had a dark unshaven chin and steady blue eyes and grizzled hair that curled over his ears and needed cutting badly。 He wore blue denim pants and a blue shirt open on a brown musuclar neck。 A cigarette hung from the corner of his mouth。 He spoke in a tight tough city voice。
〃Yeah？〃
〃Mr。 Bill Chess？〃
〃That's me。〃 I stood up and got Kingsley's note of introduction out of my pocket and handed it to him。 He squinted at the note； then clumped into the cabin and came back with glasses perched on his nose。 He read the note carefully and then again。 He put it in his shirt pocket； buttoned the flap of his pocket； and put his hand out。
〃Pleased to meet you； Mr。 Marlowe。〃 We shook hands。 He had a hand like a wood rasp。
〃You want to see Kingsley's cabin； huh？ Glad to show you。 He ain't selling for Chrissake？〃 He eyed me steadily and jerked a thumb across the lake。
〃He might；〃 I said。 〃Everything's for sale in California。〃
〃Ain't that the truth？ That's his…the redwood job。 Lined with knotty pine； position roof； stone foundations and porches； full bath and shower； venetian blinds all around； big fireplace； oil stove in the big bedroom…and brother； you need it in the spring and fall…Pilgrim bination gas and wood range； everything first class。 Cost about eight thousand and that's money for a mountain cabin。 And private reservoir in the hills for water。〃 … 〃How about electric light and telephone？〃 I asked； just to be friendly。
〃Electric light； sure。 No phone。 You couldn't get one now。 If you could； it would cost plenty to string the lines out here。〃 He looked at me with steady blue eyes and I looked at him。 In spite of his weathered appearance he looked like a drinker。 He had the thickened and glossy skin； the too noticeable veins； the bright glitter in the eyes。
I said： 〃Anybody living there now？〃
〃Nope。 Mrs。 Kingsley was here a few weeks back。 She went down the hill。 Back any day； I guess； Didn't he say？〃 I looked surprised。 〃Why？ Does she go with the cabin？〃 He scowled and then put his head back and burst out laughing。 The roar of his laughter was like a tractor backfiring。 It blasted the woodland silence to shreds。
〃Jesus； if that ain't a kick in the pants！〃 he gasped。 〃Does she go with the〃 He put out another bellow and then his mouth shut tight as a trap。
〃Yeah； it's a swell cabin；〃 he said； eyeing me carefully。
〃The beds fortable？〃 I asked。
He leaned forward and smiled。 〃Maybe you'd like a face full of knuckles；〃 he said。
I stared at him with my mouth open。 〃That one went by me too fast；〃 I said； 〃I never laid an eye on it。〃
〃How would I know if the beds are fortable？〃 he snarled； bending down a little so that he could reach me with a hard right； if it worked out that way。
〃I don't know why you wouldn't know；〃 I said。。 〃I won't press the point。 I can find out for myself。〃
〃Yah；〃 he said bitterly； 〃think I can't smell a dick when I meet one？ I played hit and run with them in every state in the Union。 Nuts to you； pal。 And nuts to Kingsley。 So he hires himself a dick to e up here and see am I wearing his pajamas； huh？ Listen； Jack； I might have a stiff leg and all； but the women I could get〃 I put a hand out； hoping he wouldn't pull it off and throw it in the lake。
〃You're slipping your clutch；〃 I told him。 〃I didn't e up here to enquire into your love life。 I never saw Mrs。 Kingsley。 I never saw Mr。 Kingsley until this morning。 What the hell's the matter with you？〃 He dropped his eyes and rubbed the back of his hand viciously across his mouth； as if he wanted to hurt himself。 Then he held the hand in front of his eyes and squeezed it into a hard fist and opened it again and stared at the fingers。 They were shaking a little。
〃Sorry； Mr。 Marlowe；〃 he said slowly。 〃I was out on the roof last night and I've got a hangover like seven Swedes。 I've been up here alone for a month and it's got me talking to myself。 A thing happened to me。〃
〃Anything a drink would help？〃 His eyes focussed sharply on me and glinted。 〃You got one？〃 I pulled the pint of rye out of my pocket and held it so that he could see the green label over the cap。
〃I don't deserve it；〃 he said。 〃God damn it； I don't。 Wait till I get a couple of glasses or would you e into the cabin？〃
〃I like it out here。 I'm enjoying the view。〃 He swung his stiff leg and went into his cabin and came back carrying a couple of small cheese glasses。 He sat down on the rock beside me smellin