Evening star., 1934-04-19
CHAPTER XXXVIII.
NORMAN AGAIN,

= NCLAIR, proprietor Of the Elite
- Eating House, had been a top
sergeant in the Marine Corps
~ during the war. Judith went
directly to him, told him what
she would need and appointed him
major" of the commissary depart
ment. He was to organize the other
restaurant men, one to swing lumber
into long tables, another to see about
coffee, a third to organize the women
into small groups.
Judith joined one of these groups.
She cut bread, spread it, slipped
slices of ham, of bologna, Of cheese,
Of pressed meat, of chicken, of roast,
between the bread.
Excited voices were constantly ply
ing her with questions and she was
constantly answering.
There were times when her weary
muscles rebelled and she wished she
were thin slice Of something to be
slipped between sheets. She began
to look upon her bed as a sandwich
herself as a filling, laughed at herself
for thinking it, and then found Del
ply at her side with cup of coffee.
"Mr. Larson, he say he's back with
one truckload and you're to come
along over next trip"
Judith agreed YEARLY. She left the
big tent with its makeshift tables
piles Of sandwiches and washboilers
of coffee, its laughing women, its re-
turning truckloads of excited men
talking "oil-oil."
She climbed into the high seat Of
gravel truck. sat between the driver
and Larson. Sandwich" she thought,
sleepily.
The shout of men in the truck
awakened her after a long lapse of
semi-slumber. This time her eyes
saw twinkling lights, saw the skeleton
derrick, looming ahead, saw men run
ming. like pygmies, about a roped-o
inclosure.
There she is!'
Larson helped her down, steadied
her moment. then they walked over
to the lighted area. Judith stepped
in something that squashed under
her feet. Oil the place was
drenched with it.
She came in so fast we couldn't
cap her." one man was saying ex-
citedly.
Judith looked at him and then at
the man to whom he was speaking,
an oil-field worker, evidently, from
his stained clothes. She started.
leaned forward, peering intently, then
closed her eyes and clutched at Lar
sons sleeve. The man was her hus-
band, Norman Dale.
Judith Dale opened her eyes slowly.
Larson, intent upon the scene before
him, had not noticed. She looked
past him to the man who had been
talking to Norman Dale. He was
still there, but Norman had van
ished.
Perhaps she was wrong. Perhaps
she had longed so to see him that
she fancied some person similar to
him was he. This man had looked at
her and his eyes had seemed to widen
in surprise. Of course, she hadn't
seen him clearly, his hat brim was
tipped forward, his face covered with
several days growth of beard. Nor
man shaved every day.
That man, the one you were talk
ing to when I came up, where did he
go?" She had leaned across Larson.
addressing the man on the other side.
He just saw fellow he wanted to
catch before he got away"
He reminded me so much Of a
friend of mine, would you mind tell
ing me his name?"
Let's see, now. what do they call
him. OF course, his nickname's Pro-
fessor.' because he talks so booky.
and think his other name is Jack
son.
Has he been in camp long?"
Not SO very long. bout a month
or so; fine fellow" The man turned
away.
Judith didn't sleep on the return
trip. Perhaps Norman was there
within few miles of her, had been
there right along and hadn't come
near.
So he'd left Lampere. she thought
in deriSion. Perhaps he'd left Lam
pere's Office. Could he have been the
man who had talked to Scoggins, his
oil man? But no, Scoggins would