Doc Riordan was sitting at the fountain counter； wearing a short white jacket； when I entered the drugstore。 I eased onto the stool beside him and tapped him on the shoulder。
〃Hello； Frank；〃 he said； smiling。 In the cramped space； we shook hands awkwardly without getting up。 〃Mr。 Foster said there was a big man with a cowboy hat looking for me。 Inasmuch as I don't know any bill collectors who don't talk； I figgered it was you。〃
I handed Doc the envelope。 He studied the list； and whistled softly through closed teeth。 〃That's a mighty big order on short notice； Frank；〃 he said； frowning。 〃I don't have any conditioning powder made up； and there's been so much flu going around Jax lately； I've got sixty…three prescriptions to fill before I can do anything else。〃 He tapped the list with a forefinger。 〃Can you let me have a couple of days？〃
I had to smile。 At that stage I could have let him have a couple of months。 I clapped him on the shoulder and nodded understandingly。
〃Good。 e in day after tomorrow and it'll be waiting for you。 All of it。〃 He smiled。 〃Kinda looks like you've got your chickens for the season； and I hope you'll have a good one。 Anytime you need something fast； just drop me a card here at Foster's。 I know damned well I'll make the Milledgeville Tourney； but that'll be the only one this year。 I've got too many feelers out on Licarbo to go to chicken fights。 But then； I might get a chance to run down to Plant City…〃
He had work to do； so I slid off the stool and left abruptly while he was still talking。
For the rest of the afternoon I prowled used car lots as a tire…kicker； trying to locate a pickup truck of some kind that would hold together for four or five months。 Around four o'clock I discovered an eight…year…old Ford half…ton pickup that looked suitable； and the salesman rode around the block with me when I tried it out。 All afternoon my silence had unnerved talkative used car salesmen。 After five minutes of my kind of silence； they usually gave up on their sales talks and let me look around in peace。 This fellow was more persistent。 After reparking the truck in its place on the fourth row of the lot； I looked at the salesman inquisitively。
〃This is a real buy for one fifty；〃 he said sincerely。 He was a young man in his early twenties； with a freckled earnest face。 His flattop haircut； and wet…look black leather sports jacket； reminded me of a Marine captain wearing civilian clothes for the first time。 For all I knew； he was an ex…Marine。
I looked steadily into his face and he blushed。
〃But old pickups don't sell so well these days。 Too many rich farmers buying new ones。 So I'll let you have it for a hundred…dollar bill。〃
I studied him for a moment； maintaining my expressionless face； and then got out of the cab of the truck。 I started toward the looping chain fence that bordered the sidewalk； and he caught up with me before I reached the first line of cars。 He put a freckled hand on my arm； but when I dropped my eyes to his hand； he jerked it away as though my sleeve were on fire。
〃I'll tell you what I'll do； sir；〃 he said quickly。 〃Just to move the old Ford and get it off the lot； I'll give up my mission。 You can have the truck for eighty…five bucks。 Give me ten dollars down； and drive it away。 Here're the keys。〃 He held out the keys； but I didn't look at them。 I kept my eyes on his face。
〃All right；〃 he said nervously。 〃Seventy…five； and that's rock bottom。〃
I nodded。 A fair price。 More than fair。 The truck had had hard use； and most of the paint had been chipped off in preparation for a new paint job。 But no one had ever gotten around to repainting it。 I pointed to the low sun above the skyline； and he followed my pointing finger with his pale blue eyes。 To catch his wandering attention again I snapped my fingers and then held up three fingers before his face。
〃Three suns？〃 he asked。 〃You mean three days？〃
I nodded。
〃Without a deposit； I can't promise to hold it for you； sir。〃
I shrugged indifferently and left the lot。 I had a hunch that the pickup would still be there when I came back for it。
When I got back to my hotel room I counted my money。 Twenty…three dollars and eighty…one cents。 Money just seems to evaporate。 I had no idea where all of it had gone； but I had to nurse what was left like a miser。 Twelve dollars would be needed to pay four days' rent on the hotel room； and I would have to eat and smoke on the remainder。 If I didn't get a letter from Judge Powell within three days； or four at the most； I would have to make other plans of some kind。
I spent the next three days at the public library。 There was a long narrow cafe near the hotel that featured an 〃Eye…Opener Early…Bird Breakfast；〃 consisting of one egg； one slice of bacon； one slice of brushed margarine toast and a cup of coffee…all for forty…two cents。 After eating this meager fare； I walked slowly to the library and sat outside on the steps until it opened； thinking forward to lunch。 I read magazines until noon in the periodical room； and then returned to the hotel and checked the desk for my mail。 I then returned to the library。 By two o'clock I was ravenous； and I would eat a poor boy sandwich across the street； and drink a Coca…Cola。 The poor boy sandwich had three varieties of meat； but not much meat。 I then returned to the library and read books until it closed at nine p。m。
My taste in reading is catholic。 I can take Volume III of the Encyclopedia Americana out of the stacks and read it straight through from Corot to Deseronto with an equal interest； or lack of interest； in each subject。 Roget's Thesaurus or a dictionary can hold my attention for several hours。 I don't own many books。 There were only a few on poultry breeding at my Ocala farm and a first edition of Histories of Game Strains that I won as a prize one time at a cockfight。 And I also owned a beat…up copy of Huckleberry Finn。 I suppose I've drifted down the river with Huck Finn & Co。 fifty times or more。
When the library closed at nine； I ate a hamburger； returned to the hotel and went to bed。
Three days passed quickly this way。 On the morning of the fourth day； however； I didn't leave the hotel。 My stomach was so upset I didn't even feel like eating the scanty 〃Eye…Opener Early…Bird Breakfast；〃 afraid I couldn't hold it。 I sat in the lobby waiting apprehensively for the mail。
There were two letters for me； both of them special delivery。 One was a thick brown envelope from Judge Powell； and the other was a flimsier envelope from Jake Mellhorn。 I didn't open either letter until I reached my room。 My fingers were damp when I opened the thick envelope from Judge Powell first； but when I emptied the envelope onto my bed； the only thing I could see was the gray…green certified check from the Mansfield Farmer's Trust； made out to my name for one thousand； five hundred dollars！
My reaction to the check surprised me。 I hadn't realized how much I had counted on getting it。 My knees began to shake first； and then my hands。 A moment later my entire body was shivering as though I had malaria； and I had to sit down quickly。 I was wet from my hair down to the soles of my feet with a cold； clammy perspiration that couldn't have been caused by anything else but cold； irrational fear。 Of course； I hadn't allowed my mind to dwell on the possibility of failure； but now that I actually had the money； the suppressed doubts and fears made themselves felt。 But my physical reaction didn't last very long。 I stripped to the waist and bathed my upper body with a cold washrag； and dried myself thoroughly； before reading Judge Powell's letter。 It was a long letter； overly long； typed single spaced on his law firm's letterhead； watermarked stationery：
Mr。 Frank Mansfield
c/o The Jeff Davis Hotel
Jacksonville； Florida
Dear Frank：
I handled this matter personally； following your desires throughout； feeling you knew your brother Randall better than me。 You did。 When I called on him and informed him that you intended to break the will of your father； he laughed。 If it hadn't been for your copious notes； his laughter would have surprised