‘The oven, Mr Cal?’
‘Light the god–damned oven. Fetch the pie pans. Have you recipes for pumpkin pie?’
‘Yes, Mr Cal.’
‘Then grab these damn pieces. Tomorrow for lunch: Just Desserts!’
Quartermain turned and crutched himself upstairs.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
The emergency meeting of the Green Town Board of Education was ready to begin.
There were only two there beside Calvin C. Quartermain: Bleak and Miss Flynt, the recording secretary.
He pointed at the pies on the table.
‘What’s this?’ said the other two.
‘A victory breakfast, or maybe a lunch.’
‘It looks like pie to me, Quartermain.’
‘It is, idiot! A victory feast, that’s what it is. Miss Flynt?’
‘Yes, Mr Cal?’
‘Take a statement. Tonight at sunset, on the edge of the ravine, I will make a few remarks.’
‘Such as?’
‘Rebellious rapscallions, hear this: The war is not done, nor have you lost nor have you won. It seems a draw. Prepare for a long October. I have taken your measure. Beware.’
Quartermain paused and shut his eyes, pressed his fingers to his temples, as if trying to remember.
‘Oh, yes. Colonel Freeleigh, sorely missed. We need a colonel. How long was Freeleigh a colonel?’
‘Since the month Lincoln was shot.’
‘Well, someone must be a colonel. I’ll do that. Colonel Quartermain. How does that sound?’
‘Pretty fine, Cal, pretty fine.’
‘All right. Now shut up and eat your pie.’
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
The boys sat in a circle on the porch of Doug and Tom’s house. The pale blue painted ceiling mirrored the blue of the October sky.
‘Gosh,’ said Charlie. ‘I don’t like to say it, Doug – but I’m hungry.’
‘Charlie! You’re not thinking right!’
‘I’m thinkin’ fine,’ said Charlie. ‘Strawberry shortcake with a big white summer cloud
of whipped cream.’
‘Tom,’ said Douglas, ‘in the by–laws in your nickel tablet, what’s it say about treason?’