Masterson shrugged. “Don’t misunderstand me. Arthur’s a good worker. One of the best I’ve ever had. But...”
“Sure,” Owen said.
Masterson looked at Owen’s face. Then his eyes flicked to Chuck’s. He found no friendliness there. Chuck watched a puzzled frown cross Masterson’s features and he realized again that the big man simply did not understand.
Masterson shrugged again and made a slight shaking motion with his head. “Well,” he said, “I hope you two snap out of your little peeves. It’ll make things a lot more pleasant.”
He turned without saying another word, heading back for the truck. Pete had already started a fire, and a pot of coffee was brewing on it.
“We’ve got to get out of here,” Owen said.
Chuck nodded, still thinking of Masterson, wondering what went on in the man’s mind.
“If we can get back to the rendezvous site, we may be able to get word to the authorities.”
“Shouldn’t they already know what happened, Owen?”
Owen shook his head. “I don’t see how. The Time Slip is fully automatic. They won’t be picking us up for a week. They’ve no way of knowing what Masterson has done.”
“But...” Chuck paused, suddenly aware that they were both whispering. “If we can’t get back for a week, how are we going to contact the authorities?”
“I figure there are plenty of government-sponsored scientists roaming the Jurassic period,” Owen explained. “Maybe some of them are due for pickup at about this time. If we can catch them at the rendezvous site, we can give them a message to take back.”
Chuck shook his head dubiously. “Sounds like a long gamble to me. After all, you don’t know for sure that anyone is scheduled for pickup right now.”
“I realize that. But it’s a chance.”
“Yeah,” Chuck said listlessly. “It’s a chance.”
“Maybe we can get away when it’s dark,” Owen said. “Masterson certainly doesn’t expect us to take off.”
Chuck glanced up quickly. “Speak of the devil.”
Masterson was walking toward the jeep. He stopped and put his hands on his hips. “Unless you two are on a diet, Pete will have some grub rustled up in a little while,” he said.
“Thanks,” Owen said.
“You know, Spencer, I’ve been thinking over what you said. Maybe you’re right. It is dangerous out here.”
“Then you’ll turn back?” Owen asked, a spark of hopefulness in his eyes.
“Well... no. But Gardel and I have decided to take turns at guard duty tonight.” He paused and smiled. “Just to make sure nothing gets into the camp, you understand.”
Owen’s face fell. “Sure. I understand.”
“And, of course,” Masterson went on, “we wouldn’t want anything to leave the camp, either.”
“Of course,” Owen said dryly. He exchanged glances with Chuck, and there was a defeated bitterness in his eyes.
“You might come over for a snack whenever you’re ready,” Masterson said agreeably. “I’d like you by the fire, anyway, before it gets dark.” He paused and the smile grew larger on his face. “I wouldn’t want any animals to carry you off.”
Chapter 6
The Mighty Beasts
The sun, a fiery ball that knew no time, poked at the night sky with a probing, red finger. The stars fled, trailing the blackness behind them, seeking safety from the blazing invader. The moon faded like a half-forgotten portrait of a loved one, and the sun rustled its tresses, sent dazzling locks of orange, yellow, red streaking across the sky. It lifted its head, and the land came alive with its brilliance. The leaves spread wide with glistening dewdrops. The animal sounds began. The mist rose, hung over the plants like a gray shroud and crumbled beneath the penetrating glare of the orange ball that hung in the sky. And the beasts lumbered from the caves and the lakes, stretched their muscles, blinked their eyes and went forth to greet the new day.
There was the smell of coffee brewing and the low crackle of a wood fire. The ground was damp, but the inside of the sleeping bag was warm and comfortable. The coffee smell invaded Chuck’s nostrils, clung to his senses with delicious warmth. He stirred, blinked his eyes, rolled over.
The sizzle of frying bacon reached his ears, followed immediately by the tangy, succulent aroma of the meat as it turned brown in the pan. Chuck’s eyes opened wide and, for a moment, he thought he was back in his own room, with Mom preparing breakfast in the kitchen, and the house warm and secure with the smells of early morning baking.
He closed his eyes and thought of home, and he allowed the dream to fill his mind and his body.
The voice was loud, but it was also mellow. Chuck kept his eyes closed and he listened to it, pretending it was the radio resting on the kitchen cabinet. He didn’t want to stir. He knew where he was now, but he didn’t want to shatter the dream.
He knew it was Pete singing to the early morning air as he prepared breakfast for the party. There was an innocent exuberance in Pete’s voice, a complete detachment from all problems, large or small. Chuck yanked down the zipper on the front of his sleeping bag and propped himself on his elbows. He listened to Pete and a smile broke out on his face.
As Chuck squirmed his way out of the sleeping bag, Pete looked up, cutting his song short.
“Don’t stop on my account,” Chuck said quickly.
Pete chuckled softly, his green eyes crinkling at the edges. He ran one stubby hand through his bright red hair and said, “I was about running out of choruses, anyway.”
Chuck walked over to the fire and held out his hands to it. “How many choruses are there?”
“I don’t suppose anyone has ever counted them,” Pete said. “I know at least thirty myself.”
“Really?”
“And I’ve only been cooking a short time. Why, there are cooks who could prepare a banquet and never run out of choruses the whole while.”
Chuck shook his head in appreciation of the feat and looked around the camp. “Are we the only two up?”
“No,” Pete said. “Mr. Masterson left with Arthur a little while ago. Said he wanted to look over the countryside. Brock’s in the back of the truck with a rifle across his knees.” Pete chuckled again and shook his head. “Don’t know what he expects to shoot.”
“Is my brother up?” Chuck asked.
“Oh, yes, almost forgot. Masterson woke him and asked him to go along, too.”
“I see.” Chuck considered this a moment. Masterson was certainly going at this hunting business with all he had. He began to wonder if the force field accident had really been an accident. For a man who’d planned to take only pictures, Masterson had certainly come prepared with a junior armory. He shrugged this aside and turned his head as he heard the shuffle of feet behind him.