Where's Johnny? John wiped his greasy hands on his jeans, and looked under the hood of his Rover more closely.  He squinted his eyes and nodded his head, as if he actually understood what the mechanic was telling him.  When the elderly man paused for breath, John was finally able to ask him what he really wanted to know.  "How much is all of this going to cost?"  The answer, he found, would pretty much clean him out.  He had been careful with his money the past three weeks, avoiding motels, and not eating too much in restaurants, but then his crankshaft broke, and now this.  Well….at least I have a full tank of gas, and my fishing gear.  If I can get to a lake, I won't starve.      John paid the man in advance, and counted the rest of his money.  It was just a little over three bucks.  He had a long wait ahead of him, and his tummy was rumbling, so he figured he go for broke, and find out what his three dollars would buy him at a truck stop across the street.  When he walked in, he found it to be a fairly nice place, clean, for a truck stop anyway.  He was amazed at how crowded it was.  He stood around for a while, feeling very out of place among all the hungry truckers.  He watched a booth empty, but didn't dare move toward it.  It was filled seconds later anyway.  He was debating whether he should just leave, when the waitress slapped one of the truckers at the counter, on the arm.       "Jeremy, move over there by Bucky so this poor man can sit down," she said, motioning to a half filled booth.     "All right, all right," grunted the man as he picked up his plate.  When the man stood, John found himself looking up at a very large, and hairy man.  To Johnny, the guy's tattoo on his arm alone, was as big as his entire head.  He smiled up at the man who smiled back, showing Johnny that he had not bothered to spit out his tobacco before he had started eating.  John pushed the image out of his mind, and sat down.  He picked up the menu and scanned both sides.  Milk, milk, milk, how much is the milk.  After doing some quick math in his head, he ordered a bowl of soup, and his glass of milk, he'd have to forgo the sandwich.  He felt embarrassed that he wouldn't be able to leave a tip, with as hard as the waitress was working to keep all of her customers happy, but he consoled himself with the fact that she'd never have to see him again.  When he got the check, he froze.  He had forgotten to figure in the tax, and he was fifteen cents short.  Oh man, this is going to be sooo embarrassing, he thought to himself.  He wished the crowd would die down, but it seemed never ending.  If I could just grab her a second, I could get this over with, he thought as she darted around with all the food and coffee.  After watching for several minutes, he was able to get her attention.       "Yeah hon, you ready to pay?"      "Yeah, but I'm well, it seems I'm a little short."      "How much?"      "Fifteen cents."      The woman looked disappointed.  "Is that all?" she asked.  "Well come on."  She took him by the elbow and led him to the kitchen.  "A penny a plate, start washing."  Before he could take a breath, she was gone.      Well, fair's fair, a penny a plate is fair.  As soon as John started to dry his fifteen plates, they started to disappear.  When the last plate entered the rack, a large woman, who was the cook, retrieved it, and cover it with the next order.  John could hear from the noise on the other side of the wall that the rush was still on.  Despite his obligation being filled, he felt funny about just leaving.  The cook took a quick glance in his direction, but didn't say a word.  She hadn't acknowledged him when he came in, why should she acknowledge him now; besides, she was just as busy as the waitress.  John gave himself a shrug.  He decided to wash another fifteen plates, after all, he still owed them a tip.  Behind him the cook grinned from ear to ear.  The rest of the rush was going to be so much easier without having to stop and wash a dish every other minute.  Johnny quickly lost count of his dishes and slid into a fast rhythm.  He figured why not, what else was he going to do, go sit in a hard plastic chair and wait on his car?   Even when the rush slowed to near nothing, he continued to wash until every dish in the place was clean.  I bet that's the best tip they ever got, John thought to himself as he hung up his towel and headed out the door.      "What kind of sandwich do you want?" the waitress called after him.      "Huh?" he asked sticking his head back through the door.  "Oh, nothing, I'm broke, remember?"      "Yeah, I seem to remember something about that, now what kind of sandwich do you want?"      "Whatever you're having," he said noticing three plates lined up on the counter.      "Grilled cheese with tomato soup ok?"      "Oh yeah," he replied sitting down on a stool and realizing just how hungry he was.      "Milk too, right?"      "Yeah," he laughed.  A waitress with a memory, he liked that.      She sat down a bowl of soup with some crackers, which he managed to finish off before she gave him his sandwich.  Then, before he could finish his sandwich, she refilled his soup bowl, and his glass of milk.      Two milks without being asked, I think I'm in love, he joked to himself.  After polishing off all of his soup, sandwich, a third glass of milk, and a rather large piece of apple pie, he leaned back on the stool, and happily patted his tummy.      "That was good," he informed his host with his best, dimpled smile.  The waitress couldn't help but laugh.  He reminded her of her son, who was the cause of the days problems.  He wasn't a bad boy, but he had picked a lousy time to go off to Vermont, chasing after his girlfriend.  At least he might have given her some warning.  She could tell the character before her had to be something with the girls too.  In fact, if she were younger, she felt she would probably fancy him herself.  Lou Ann, the cook, had already remarked about his eyes, and well, his but.  He was more handsome than her son, but he had the same goofy grin.      "My name is Karla Sedgwick," she told him, offering her hand.      He shook it gently.  "John," he replied quietly, as a wave of shyness washed over him.      Karla opened the cash register, then slid a ten toward Johnny.  At his confused look, she said, "You earned it."      "But...well....how much was...."      "The food is free, when you work here."  After a long pause, she continued.  "I don't suppose you could do a couple of poor old working girls a huge favor," she said, indicating herself and the cook who had joined them, and who could not seem to keep from staring at Johnny.      "What would that be?"      "Work the dinner shift tonight?"      John stared down at the counter, feeling very uncomfortable.      "I can give you five dollars and hour, and all the food you can eat.  My son just bailed on us this morning without so much as a word.  It seems he ran off after some girl he is in love with.  She left for college yesterday, now he's gone."      John had to smile, but still could not look up from the counter.  He really didn't want to stay in the small town a minute longer than he had to.  Their kindness, however, was twisting his arm.  If he looked at them, he knew he was done for.  "You know," he said, tapping the ten, "you could have asked before you fed me."      "I know, but I prefer a good old guilt trip to bribery."      John was loosing ground fast.  He jumped up, and headed for the door.  "I'll...uh...need to check on my car."  He deliberately left the ten behind.  He had eaten, that was fair, if he took it, that was kindness; something he had great difficulty turning away from.                                                                     ~*~*~*~*~*~ Roy was bored and depressed.  He didn't know whether to be angry, or worried.  Three weeks, and Johnny still hadn't called him.  He must be afraid that we're mad at him, but how can I tell him it's ok to still be friends, even if he's not a fireman anymore, if he never calls me?  He went to his locker and pulled out Johnny's duffel, then emptied it out onto the floor.  He carefully folded the clothes, and started to put everything neatly back into the black bag.  Half way through he stopped and stared.  He stood up and opened Johnny's locker, "Nope," he said aloud, and smiled.       "What?" Chet asked from the sink he was scrubbing.      "He..ah..took the poster with him.  It's not here."      Chet let out a sigh and grinned, knowing what Roy was getting at.       "The Smokey poster?" Thomas asked as he polished his shoes one locker down from Chet's.  "He gave it to me," he told them while removing it from his locker.     "Aw, MAN!" Chet shouted.  He threw his rag into the sink, and stormed out of the room.  Roy glared at the poster.  "Look...you can have it.  He just..."  Roy grabbed the poster, scooped everything up he had dumped on the floor, tossed it all back into his locker, then went off into the bunkroom, to stare at the floor some more, Thomas assumed.  "I HATE these guys."                                                               ~*~*~*~*~*~      "Two weeks!" John squeaked.  "I can't sit here for two weeks!  Why does it take two weeks to get a part in?"  The old man gave him a long explanation, but the reason didn't matter.  John was stranded, and that was all there was to it.  Well, at least I won't go hungry tonight, he thought as he headed back to the restaurant.  "Um..." he started, feeling very embarrassed, after all, didn't he walk out on this job opportunity just two hours ago.      "PLEASE tell me you changed your mind," Karla told him in a teasing manner, not expecting that he had.  She figured he came back for the ten.      "Yes."      "YES?"      "If that's ok."      "That's MORE than ok.  Are you hungry?  Remember, I said, food is free when you work," she told him, handing him the ten.       He took it this time, knowing he would need it eventually.  "Are you kidding, after that lunch, I may never eat again."      "Oh don't worry, you'll eat again," the cook told him, after she got up enough courage to speak to the very handsome young man for the first time.  "I guarantee you will work up an appetite over the dinner shift.  In fact, you should probably hit her up for six an hour while you have the chance."      "No, five is fine."      Dinner turned out to be just as busy as lunch had been.  Afterwards, true to he word, Karla fed him all he could eat, and eat he did, being too hungry to be embarrassed about the amount.  When he finished, he noticed Lou Ann starting to mop up the place.  John took the mop from her.  "I can keep working if you want," he offered, looking at Karla.      "As much as you're willing to do, we'll pay you for."  John smiled and set to work, sweeping, mopping, wiping down tables and so on.  While Karla's son would sometimes take up to three hours to do the evening cleanup, John finished a thorough job in just less than one.  Karla brought him some pie, and a cup of coffee as he sat down in a booth to rest for a minute.      "You GOT to be kidding," John said, looking at the pie, but sipping at the coffee.      "Oh, don't tell me my son can put away more than you can."      "How BIG is your son."      "Oh just a bit smaller than you."      "Smaller, huh?"      "Yeah, smaller."  John took a bite of the pie.  It was good, but a bite was all he could manage.  Soon, Karla and Lou Ann had a sleeping young man in one of their booths to deal with.      "What do we do with him?" Lou Ann asked.      "Leave him, the booth is comfortable enough.  Tomorrow, I'll clean out the room over the garage, and offer it to him."      "Well, isn't that wishful thinking."      "No, he's ours for a while anyway, Old O'Dell says he's stranded.  If he was going to call for help, he'd have done it by now."      "Where do you think he came from?"      "Not a clue."      "You don't think he's in any trouble do you?"      "A guy who worries over fifteen cents can't get in to that much trouble."      "Still, I wonder what his story is."      "Lou Ann, if you pester that boy out of here...."      "I'll be washing dishes, and cooking, and cleaning up....don't worry, I won't chase him off."      Karla managed to find an old blanket in the storage room, and carefully covered him up.  Then she set about turning everything off, and locking up.      "You really trust him to stay in here all by himself?" Lou Ann asked on her way out of the door.      "Sure, what's he going to do, eat us out of stock...we've already stuffed him to the gills."  Karla locked the door behind her, and the two walked home.                                                                ~*~*~*~*~*~*~      "Hey, hey everybody," Cap shouted as he walked into the dayroom waving a postcard.  "Johnny wrote us!"  Everyone gathered around trying to see the small piece of mail for themselves.       "A post card?  He's gone a month and a half, and all he sends is a postcard?" Chet griped in disbelief.      "Well, what does it say?" Marco asked.      "Where did it come from?" Mike enquired about the postmark.      Roy took it from Cap's hand, and retreated with it to the other side of the room.  No one made an effort to follow him.  After staring at both sides for a couple of minutes each, he tossed it on to the table, and left the room.  As soon as he passed through doorway, Mike, Marco, and Chet all dove for the card at once; Marco being the victor.  Mike read over his shoulder, as Chet tried to pull the card out further in his direction.        Hi guys,       I guess you all may wondering what's become of me.  I'm fine.  Nothing       like the open road.  Who knows, I may write a book someday, about       all the people I meet.  (Don't laugh Chet, you never know.)  I hope you       all are well.  Had some problems with the Rover, but it's fixed now.       Sorry about the party and all.       Take Care,       Johnny      The front of the postcard had a picture of the truck stop.  It had originally been built in the 1920's, and had somehow become a landmark for the town.  "Billy's Diner" was on a large sign in front of the building; Billy, now long gone.                                                                  ~*~*~*~*~*~      Karla looked up from pouring yet another cup of coffee to see Jeremy, her best customer, and John's introduction to the place, start to choke.  She had joked with him about spitting out his tobacco before he started eating many times; more because it grossed everyone out than because she believed if could ever really do him harm.  Now the very large man was turning blue, and beating on the table at his booth.  Helpful bystanders offered him water, and pounded him on the back.  One man told him to raise him arms above his head.  John heard the commotion, and looked out through the order window to see what was happening.  When he saw, he bolted out into the restaurant, and tried to lift the man into the Heimlich position.  The man was confused at Johnny's groping, and took a halfhearted swing at his head.  Johnny tried again, but could not get his arms all the way around the man.  He looked around, and grabbed one of the metal highchairs from a corner, and placed it in front of Jeremy.      "Fall on it!"  John shouted at him.  Jeremy looked at him as if he were crazy, and started to sway.  Time was running out for him.  "FALL ON IT...RIGHT HERE!"  John shouted at him, giving the mans belly a couple of slaps.  Jeremy still did not respond, so John kicked the man behind one of his knees, causing him to fall forward, onto the back of the highchair.  At the impact, a wad of tobacco, and some food popped out, and flew a little ways into the room.  Jeremy sat on his knees for several moments, as everyone watched.  John scooted forward to check on the color of his face, slowly returning to red, from the incredible blue it had been.  Jeremy stood, and grabbed Johnny by the front of his shirt, and he pulled him into a full bear hug.  Everyone held their breath, as they imagined Jeremy crushing the life out of him.      "THANK YOU!" Jeremy gushed instead.  "Thank you, thank you, thank you."  He let John go from his embrace, only to grab John's head firmly between his hands, and plant a solid kiss on his forehead.  "I owe you my life, you ever need ANYTHING, just say it....OK?"  No offer in made the world could have been more genuine.  Johnny didn't know what to say, blushing at all of the attention he was getting in the restaurant.  He patted Jeremy on the shoulder, and flashed him a smile.      "Better get back to work.....ah..you should go to a doctor, get checked out, those ribs could be."      "Oh no, I don't care for doctor's"      "Really, you hit the chair pretty hard."      "Sure, you got it.  If you say go, I'll go."      "Ah, yeah, ok.  Back to work." John said just before he managed to break away, and head back behind the counter.                                                             ~*~*~*~*~*~*~ Within the week, two more postcards arrived at Station 51, with the same picture on the front as the first.  After the interest in the third postcard had died down, Mike took it straight to the phone, and dialed information.  He gave the operator the name of the town on the postmark, and the name of the Diner.  After several minutes, he was rewarded with a number.  Instead of dialing it himself, he went in search of Roy.  It was probably a dead end, but it couldn't hurt, he figured.  Five minutes later, he returned to the dayroom with a reluctant Roy in tow.      "Come on Mike, he probably just picked up a stack of them so he wouldn't have to worry about buying more."      "Uh-uh, the postmark is the same on all of them.  He's mailing them from the same town."      "Even so, what makes you think they'll remember seeing him?"      "Maybe he's camping somewhere nearby, and goes in there to eat once in a while."      "Come on Mike....look, you're the one into the detective novels, you call."      Mike picked up the phone, "Dial Roy."     Roy sighed, but obeyed.  "This is crazy", he mumbled to himself as the number started to ring.      "Hello?"      "Uh, hi....is this Billy's Diner?"      "Billy's what?"      "Diner...Billy's Diner."      "No, it's the truck stop....oh..(HA)..I guess it is.  Who are you calling for?"      "Well..uh..ya see...I got this postcard with this diner on it from a friend and I was wondering if..."      "Just a minute."  Roy could hear muffled talking, and alot of background noise.  The Diner was obviously very busy.  Roy waited and waited, and was about to hang up, when a second voice answered.  "Hello, this is Billy's Diner, what is your order."      "Hi...I was..."      "Speak up honey.  It's kind of noisy here."      "Yeah, I..uh..I'm looking for this friend of mine.  You see, I got a postcard from your diner.  Well, not from your diner....but..it has a picture of the diner on it....and I was just wondering if maybe anyone might remember seeing him in there."      "Is this a phone prank honey."      "No!  Really...I uh..."      "Ok, I'll bite, what does your friend look like."      "Well, he's six one, dark hair, brown eyes, kind of skinny, high cheekbones..."      "....cute but, and dimples to die for?"      "Uh...well..."      "Sounds like Little John, is that who you want honey?"      "Actually, his name is...." Roy paused as he realized the receiver was again being handed off.      "Yeah??" asked the all too familiar voice, as its owner was obviously chewing on something.  Roy froze, having never expected it.  "Hello?  Who was it?" John asked as Roy listened to him pull the receiver a bit away from his mouth, but without bothering to cover it with his hand.  "Well there is no one here now.  Hello?  Look sweetie, why don't you girls go find some boys a little closer to your own age, huh?  I have work to do."  With that, he started to hang up.  Roy realized that, and started to speak, but it was to late.  Roy again dialed the number.      "Hello?"      "Yeah, could I speak with John Gage?"      "Who?"      "Um...ahhh...Little John."      "Just a sec....he says you girls should stop bugging him, and telephones are not toys," giggled the voice, just before she hung up.  In a way, Roy felt relieved.  He did not know what he would have said if John had come to the phone again.  Well, he thought to himself, he said he was working...maybe I'll just drive up there tomorrow...if it's not too far.      After checking a map, Roy found it to be a good five-hour drive, each way.  He went anyway.  He had driven through small towns like it before, but had never had the nerve to stop.  The old rusty gas pumps unsettled him.  The grocery store looked like it may house animals as well.  The diner was, well the diner itself wasn't too bad, but its patrons looked down right scary to Roy.  He parked as best as he could in the torn up black top sea of holes that served as a parking lot.  He hoped that his tiny little sports car wound not be overlooked by one of the drivers of the many big rigs that managed to be crammed in there as well.  He stepped out of his car, and just managed to keep from falling into a huge mud puddle that threatened to swallow him whole.  What am I doing here, he wondered as he made his way inside.  The place was again a hub of activity.  It was all Roy could do to keep from being stepped on, or run over.  Unfortunately for Roy, Karla was not able to notice the small, awkward man that had come to stand in the doorway, as she had Johnny.  With great determination, Roy eventually managed to seat himself at the counter.  Before he know what was happening, he had ordered coffee and a sandwich, and had received the steaming cup before he could blink his eyes, or even think about asking about his friend.  He didn't have to ask.  Slowly, over the sounds of many others, his friends laughter came drifting to him, through the order window.  Roy carefully stood up on the foot bar of his stool, and was able to peer inside, with an un-inhibited view.  There was his friend, relaxed, happy, fitting in here as well as the menus and the coffee cups.  For a moment, Roy thought Johnny was looking at him, but no, he continued his conversation with some unseen person without the slightest recognition crossing his face.  Roy's legs were giving out, so he sat down to think.  What right do I have to be here.  If he wanted to see me, he would have said so.  If he wanted to hear from any of us, he would have given an address to write to.  If I confront him here, I'll only embarrass him.  From fireman, to dishwasher; Chet would tease him to death.  He's writing us now.  I should just leave him alone, let him work on his own timeline.  Please God, just let him call me.  Maybe I should leave him a note, that I was here.  No.  He'd wonder why I didn't say anything.  Man, I just want to talk to him. Johnny's laughter again drifted through the window to Roy's ears.  Leave him alone.  He's happy, and he's fine.  I know, I'll write him tomorrow.  I'll say detective Mike was able to read the address with his magnifying glass off the postcard.  I doubt he'll buy it, but at least I can let him know I'm cool with his quitting.  As soon as he knows I'm not mad, he'll call.  I know he will.  I better beat it before he sees me.  Roy paid for his coffee, and forgot about his sandwich, which had not yet arrived.  Karla arrived with the sandwich in hand to find someone else on the stool, and a buck under the untouched coffee cup.  She wondered about the out of place man for a moment, but work quickly drove him from her mind.                                                             ~*~*~*~*~*~      "Let me get this straight, you drove all the way there, but you didn't see him?" Chet asked incredulously.      "No, I saw him."      "Well, then, what did he say?"      "Nothing."      "He wouldn't talk to you?"      "No....I...it was really crowded, so I left."      "You drove for five hours, and just turned around and left, because it was crowded."      "Look, the place was really busy."      "So what, you couldn't get near him, it was just a restaurant wasn't it?"      "Yeah, look, he was really busy, so I just left."      "That is just crazy Roy."      "Shut up Chet."      "But you did actually see him, right?"      "Right, he's fine."      "Well, what was he doing when you saw him?"      Roy was loosing his patients.  Man, why did he have to pick yesterday of all days to call around for help moving his grandmothers washing machine, and why did Joanne have to tell him where I went.       "He...was...working....on something."  Man Chet, can't you just let it go? Roy thought to himself.      "Working on what?"      Go tones, go, can't you ever go off at a good time?  "Chet?  I really don't want to play twenty questions with you right now."      "Look Roy, I'm sick of you going around he like you have exclusive rights to him or something.  We are all his friends you know."      "I KNOW!"      "So out with it, what is the big secret your not telling us?"      "Oh for Heaven's sake," Roy mumbled.  "HE WAS WASHING DISHES, OK?" he added loudly.      "SO!"      "SO HE'S A DISHWASHER AT A TRUCK STOP!"      "SO?"      "So he DOESN"T really need you coming around and giving him a hard time about it."      "A HARD TI...WHY WOULD I GIVE HIM A HARD TIME ABOUT IT?"      "WHOA!" Cap interrupted as he came into the dayroom.  "What is all the shouting about?"      "Roy went to see Gage without telling any of us, THEN, HE DIDN'T EVEN TALK TO HIM!" Chet blasted forth.      "You saw Gage?  How is he?"      "Fine, Cap, he's fine.  That's all I went to see.  I saw, so I came home."      "Well, it's good to know he's really ok....isn't it fella's?"  All of his men agreed, including Thomas, who was listening from the Bay.      "BUT CAP..."      "But what Kelly?"      "Don't you think he should have asked us if we wanted to go?  I mean, he didn't even tell any of us that he found out where he was."      "I did too.  Mike was standing right there and....." Oops, sorry Mike.      "Oh YEAH?  Well who else knew?  Marco, did you know?"      Marco looked away.      "MAN, I can't believe you guys.  What do you think I'll do to him anyway?"      "Nothing Chet," Marco told him, trying to calm him down.  "Roy's his best friend, he just wanted to go alone the first time.  We didn't all want to jump on him at once.  You know, too much at once....that's what started this whole thing."      "Well there it is again.  You guys blame me for him leaving."      "NO, Chet," Mike told him honestly.      "All I'm saying is maybe I'd have liked to have gone too, especially after the way Roy was too chicken to even say Hello to him.  All you had to do Roy, was tell him we're not mad."      "I know that Chet, but....you weren't there, and it just wasn't a good time."      "Give me the address."      "What?"      "You heard me, give me the address."  Roy nervously looked around the room at all the eyes staring at him.       "Fine," Roy told him as he jotted it down on a piece of paper.      Chet snatched it from his hand.  "I'm going to see Johnny tomorrow....in case any of you would like to come along."  With that he left the room.      At 8am the next morning, Chet found Roy leaning against his car.      "You want to take this thing," Roy asked, indicating Chet's beat up station wagon, "or mine".      Chet thought for a moment, then asked in his best Gage voice, "Will you let me drive it?"      Roy smiled despite himself, but shook his head no.  "Just get in Chet."      "You gonna talk to him this time?"      "If he doesn't head for the hills as soon as he sees what I've brought with me."      "I'll be good, I swear.  You know the Phantom don't kick a man when he's down."      Five hours later, they arrived in the small town.  This time, the lunch hour was beginning to slow down, so Roy and Chet were able to get a booth to themselves, with only a reasonable wait.  After ordering coffee and hamburgers, they agreed to wait until after they ate to ask about the man they had driven all this way to see.  With any luck, they were hoping he would come out from the kitchen, and approach them on his own.  Both stared at the doorway, not wanting him to slip out, and not notice them.  Shortly after they finished eating, and they were nursing their third cup of coffee, a young man did indeed come out of the kitchen.  He had a similar lopsided grin as Johnny, but this was not Johnny.  Roy got up and walked over to an empty stool.  He again stood on the foot bar, and peered into the back.  Karla noticed him straining to see better.      "Can I help you?" she asked a bit unnerved by his actions.      "Yeah, I'd like to talk to John Gage."      "Who?"      "JOHN GAGE, where is he.  He was working here just two days ago," Roy replied, unable to keep his angry frustration out of his voice.      "Look sir....."      "What's the problem Karla?" Jeremy asked from his own nearby stool.      "Nothing, Jeremy, this man is looking for Little John."      Chet snorted a laugh from the booth.  Roy rolled his eyes at Chet's new ammunition, but at the moment, Chet was the least of his worries.      "What do you want with him?" Jeremy asked threateningly.  He stood up, and walked up behind Karla, then gently moved her to the side out of the way, as he positioned himself to stand directly over Roy.      "NOTHING!  I mean, he's my friend...and I ..."      "You what!" Jeremy challenged.      "I'm looking for him."      "Why?"      "WHY?  Cause, well...."      "Cause we're his friends," Chet added from the side.      "Both of you, huh?"      "Yeah," Chet answered reaching for his wallet and pulling it open.  "See?"  He pulled out a crumpled picture of the whole gang from the last year's fireman's picnic.  Jeremy took the picture from Chet, and examined it closely while Chet stood on the bench of his booth in order to point people out to him.  "There's me...there's Roy over there, and there's Johnny."     Jeremy smiled upon seeing the face of his little buddy, smiling back at him, and wearing the same Fire Department T-shirt as the other men in the picture.  "Fire Department?  Little John's a Fireman?"      "I KNOW I knew him from somewhere!" Lou Ann exclaimed from the kitchen doorway.  "He's that fireman that rescued all those kids from that school isn't he?"      "Yeah," Roy answered.  "Where is he?"      "Oh, honey, I'm sorry....he's gone.  He left a couple days ago," Karla answered him.      "No, I was just here a couple days ago.  He was here."      "No hon, my son came home that afternoon, and John headed out that night."      "More like ran out," Lou Ann added.  "We did kind of beg him in to staying long after his truck was fixed.  He was sweet.  He said he'd stay until we found a replacement.  Course no one wanted it, till Davis came home.  Then woosh, he was gone."  Roy could only shake his head, and curse himself under his breath.      "Did he say which way he was going?" Chet asked hopefully.      "Actually, I asked him that same question."      "What did he say?"      "Well, he smiled and said, 'Which ever way the wind blows me.'  He was so sweet.  Wish we could have kept him here."      Roy had to smile at his friends parting comment.  He knew they'd talked about cutting all the ties that society places on you, all the phone, electric, rent, insurance bills, everything.  They used to try to out do each other over how few things they could get by on.  Part of him envied John, the fact that he actually did it.  If only he could tell him that.                                                             ~*~*~*~*~*~*~      John spent the next two-week as far away from civilization as he could get, which was pretty far.  He lived by his wits, mainly fishing, and surviving on what little provisions he had brought with him.  He had left his Rover in a state Park camping grounds, and hoped it would be all right.   On this day, as he continued exploring the vast woods, his nose detected something, something delicious; at least that is the way it smelled.  He followed his nose for over a mile, trying to find its source, and eventually came out of the woods to find a private fisherman's lodge and restaurant.  John had left all of his money in a hiding place, in his Rover, he was sure no would be thieves or possible vandals would find.  He smelled blueberry pancakes, he was sure of it.  His tummy rumbled, and rebelled at the thought of more fish.      Maybe I could make a trade, he thought.  Surely a place like this could use some fresh fish.  He had no idea how true his speculation was.  The owner of the business also provided guided nature and fishing trips.  His customers were mostly city businessmen, out to pretend they were great outdoorsmen.  The idea, as it was, was that they would catch their own fish, then return to the lodge where they would be served their success of the day, for their dinner that night.  Unfortunately, if most of them had to eat their own puny catches, they would starve, and never return again.  There was a constant need for fresh fish here; especially the large trout Johnny had caught from a small, secluded lake, much farther back in the woods.  Some of the locals supplied the restaurant with overflow from their own catches.  It was usually teenagers, out for a little pocket money.  The locals didn't mind this lodge so much, as it did the attitude of many of its patrons.      Johnny made his way toward the lodge; his fish offering slapping his thigh with each step, as it swung on his belt.  He felt himself drawing the attention of many eyes, as he made his way past small groups of men, waiting to start out on their individual trips for the day.  He put his head down, and kept going, suddenly aware of his appearance, and the way he surely smelled.  Though he had bathed in the lake many times, he had not shaved once since arriving, and the fish odor was all over him from his dangling catch.  He had almost changed his mind, when he realized a woman from the porch of the lodge was shouting at him.      "Around the back young man, go around the back."  John had no idea why she wanted him to do so, but he headed in the direction she was pointing, just to get away from the prying eyes.  A minute later, the same woman arrived through a backdoor in the lodge.  She looked him up and down, wrinkled her nose, then headed back inside while she shouted, "There is someone out there to see you Dickie."  A moment later, a man came out the same door, took one look at John, then went back inside.      "Who?" he asked his wife.  She went back outside, and pointed directly at John.      "Right there, what are ya, blind?"      "Layla, that's not one of our catcher's," he said, joining her on the porch.  "Can you honestly tell me you have ever laid eyes on that man before in your life?"      "Well I didn't know, he's got fish, hasn't he," she hissed back at him.  She shook her head, and went back into the lodge.  The man remained, staring at John.  John, feeling very embarrassed, and bewildered, turned to leave.      "Well, what did you want," Dickie shouted after John.      "Nothing...I didn't want nothing."      "Is that so."      John was hungry, and the food smelled great.  Since the man was the one who had actually started the conversation, John decided to go for it.  "I...uh...was just wondering if you might need some fish," he told him, turning to his side so the man could have a full view of his goods.  Dickie's heart leapt for joy, but he quickly swallowed it back, hoping the young man before him had not noticed; he hadn't.       "Let's have a look at those," Dickie said, as he walked down from the porch.  He examined them closely, with the eye of an artist.  "Hmmm, well...they're not much too look at....you got these out of here?" he asked indicating the lake the lodge bordered.      "No, a smaller lake, farther in."      "You caught these in Little Foot Lake?"      "Ah, I don't know, just a little lake."      "Well how long have they been out of the water?"      "Not long....few hours....it's been a cool morning."      "Just a few hours?  How did you get here so fast?"      "I just hiked.  I smelled..."      "You HIKED here?"      "Yeah," John said defensively.      "And it only took you three hours?"      "I don't know, about four I guess."      "Pretty steep climb!"      "Not really, there's plenty of natural footpaths, just have to watch your step.  It's an easy hike really."      "For you maybe."      Dickie knew the fish were plenty fresh enough, but he was used to dealing with teenage punks that always wanted more than they were worth.  He examined the fish again, and was sure they were still fine, more than fine.  He wanted them.  "Well...I don't know...what did you have in mind."      "A full pancake breakfast, juice, and TWO milks."      Food!  All this boy wants is some food?! Dickie screamed to himself.  Still, the business side of him couldn't resist.  "I don't know....lemme....."      "Forget it," John whispered, and started to leave.      Seeing his beautiful fish starting to walk away, the man panicked.  "Now hold on.....don't ever let it be said I sent a hungry man away from my door.  Come on back here."      John whipped back around with anger in his eyes.  "LOOK, I'm NOT a beggar.  I just thought I might be able to get a trade.  If you're not interested, all you had to do was say so."     "I'm interested.  Come on in here and we'll get you your food, whatever you want."  John hesitated.  "Come on...I didn't mean it.  A man has to get the best deal he can if he's gonna stay in business, ya know?"  John allowed himself to be placated, and walked through the door the man was now holding open for him.  Layla, on the inside, immediately wrinkled her nose again, but smiled a large toothy grin when John handed her his three large fish.  She knew she could get at least six meals out of them, if not more.  At fifteen dollars a plate, he may just as well have handed her a wad of cash.  Oblivious to this fact, John still felt embarrassed, and unsure of this deal he had made.  He never wanted any sort of charity.      "Could I maybe...wash up a bit?" he asked.      "Sure," Layla answered as she quickly emptied one of the sinks.  "I'm afraid all we have in here is dish soap.  I can get you something else from upstairs in just a minute."  He could tell the lady was busy, and he didn't want to be a bother.      "No, this is fine."  He washed his hands and face thoroughly, then took a vigorous rag to his jeans.  Soon he smelled strongly of lemon, and only slightly of fish.  When he was finished, Layla lead him out into the restaurant.  Despite his scruffy appearance, she figured it would be ok, since most of their clientele were already out for the day.  Even so, she put him at a small table, off in a corner.  As John waited for his food to arrive, he realized he was the center of attention in the room.  Several men kept staring at him, and whispering to each other.  John avoided looking at them, and instead focused on the red and white-checkered tablecloth in front of him.  Dickie entered the room, and gave John a pat on the back.      "She'll bring it right out," he whispered in his ear.  Then he left to speak to some of his PAYING customers.      "Dickie, that guide you stuck us with is worthless.  We've been here two days, and we haven't caught hardly anything worth looking at."      "Now come on Ed, that's not true.  Why you had the most beautiful bluegill yesterday!"      "Dickie, I want to catch some REAL fish.  I want another guide, one that knows what he's doing."      "All my guides know what they're doing, you just have to be a little patient sometimes.  There's nothing wrong with Dale.  He's..."      "I want the Mountain Man."      "The WHAT?"      "That one," he said pointing directly at Johnny, with a gleam in his eye.  "The Mountain Man."      "Ed, he's not a fishing guide, he's..."  Dickie's shrewd business mind started working overtime, as dollar signs flashed before his eyes.  "He's ah, ah, Wilderness guide.  Very rustic, very hard trip.  He takes ya deep into the woods.  His trips are for four full days.  You have to hike in and hike out.  No facilities, ya know.  You have to carry everything you need with you.  It's strictly for the real he-man types."  Despite the fact that Ed was far from a fit, roughing it kind of guy, he was completely sold.      "I want it!"      "No, no Ed, it's a real tough trip.  There's the bugs, and snakes, and sleeping on the ground, there's no restaurants out there; and this guide, ya know, he's not exactly your friendly, outgoing type, not the kind to be bossed around, ya know.  It's probably not a good idea."      Ed's mouth was watering; a real mountain man, teaching him how to live in the wild, and how to catch real fish, the kind of fish he had just seen the man bring in.  "Ask him."      "Aw ED, he just got back with a group," said Dickie, now getting nervous.  He wondered how he had managed to get himself into such a jam so fast.  Now he had to talk his way out of it.      "How much is it?"      "What?"      "For the full four days, all four of us, how much?"      "Well," said Dickie, thinking he was about to put an end to the conversation once and for all, "it's... two hundred...for each man."  Ed and his three friends started to dig for their wallets.  "...and...ah...you have to tip the guy at least a hundred at the end of the trip."       "Not a problem," Ed mumbled back to Dickie as he put his head together with his friends, counting out their money.      "And, with no reservation, it's another hundred."      Ed forked over the money with a smile.  Dickie was stunned.  He took the money and stuffed it into his pocket before turning to look at his Mountain Man.  He was hoping he hadn't noticed the transaction, and he had not.  He was too busy stuffing his face with his plate of food that had arrived.  Layla, being just as shrude at her business as her husband, had given John a rather modest plate; but he was happy with it.  Dickie went into the kitchen, and brought out a second plate.  He placed it down in front of John, then sat down next to him as he offered a pitcher of syrup that had not previously been on the table.  John felt he had missed something, but accepted the syrup and the second plate of pancakes without question.      "Staying long?" Dickie asked him.      "Huh?" John asked through his full mouth.      "If you hiked here, you must be camping, right?"      John took a drink of milk.  "Yeah, something like that."      "You wouldn't be needing a job now, would you?"      "Catching fish?"      "Actually, I was thinking you'd make a good wilderness guide."      "What's a Wilderness guide?"      "Kind of a camping and fishing guide rolled together.  All you'd have to do is take a few guys to that lake in there for a couple days, let 'em fish a bit, then bring them back.  I figure four days all around.  One day to hike in...."      John snorted a laugh.  "A DAY?  No, no, doesn't take a day."      "Well, most of a day, these guys, you'd just want to take your time with them is all?"      John took a close look at the men in question for the first time.  Again he had to laugh.  Never before had he seen pressed jeans, and starched flannel shirts.  He could just picture having to baby-sit these guys in the woods for four days.  "No thanks," he said as he rose from the table.  He finished his milk in a gulp, patted Dickie on the back to say thank you, and left.  Dickie followed him.      "Now hold on a minute.  Let's see if we can't work something out."      "Look, I appreciate the offer, but...those guys, I'm not big on kissing up to those types.  Thanks anyway."      "You wouldn't have to.  In fact, the more you growled at them, the more I think they'd like it."      "Yeah right."      "No really.  We sell fantasies here."      "Fantasies."      "Yeah, fantasies.  These guys go out and try to catch fish all day.  There are good fish out there, but most of them couldn't catch one if giant fishing hooks replaced both their hands.  They come back with the most pathetic looking things you've ever seen.  I even had one guy bring in the sole of on old boot.  No one ever questions it when we serve them their own fish, and it's four times the size of what they brought in.  Maybe they think fish swell up in the frying pan."      "What does that have to do with me?"      "They, uh, fancy you a...Mountain Man."      "A WHAT!  Where did they get that?"      "I don't know, must be the beard."      "You're kidding me."      "No, they really want to spend a weekend, fishing with a...a Mountain Man.  You could really play it up.  Have fun with it.  You wouldn't have to be nice to them at all.  What do ya say?"      "Nnnn....nnaaaa...this...this is crazy."      "It pays good."      "How good?"      "Ah...two...I mean..one hundred to start, then they owe you a tip at the end."      John looked skeptical.  "We split a hundred?  How much is mine?"      Dickie smiled at the nine hundred he pocketed earlier.  He had originally figured John for two, plus his tip, leaving him with seven.  This guy was too much.  "No, no, the full hundred is yours, my, ah...fee, is separate."      "What all do I have to do?"      "Just take a day to hike them in there, go slow so you don't loose them, and so they think they are going really far in, let them fish for a couple day's, then bring 'em back."      "And make sure they don't sit on poison ivy, or on a snake, or..."      "Well, yeah, make sure they don't kill themselves."      "What about the cooking?"      "Oh yeah, nothing but a fire.  I hadn't thought of that."      "Well, I can cook, I can even fake their catches; but if I have to do that, I want an extra twenty-five," John threw in, believing he was playing hardball.  Dickie played along.       "Oh, I'll...I'll ask 'em....they'll probably go for it."  Dickie went into the restaurant, but stayed out of sight of the men.  A minute later he came back out.  "Yeah, they said it's a bit steep, but they said ok."      John smiled.  "Good."                                                                          ~*~*~*~*~*~      Over the next four weeks, Station 51 received several postcards from Johnny.  All were very simple, not said much.  A few contained nature poems while others contained comments about the weather, or colors of leaves, the sound of the trees at night.  All the postcards were outdoor scenes, and none were the same.  Apparently he was now buying them for their beauty, and not their convenience.  All contained a postmark for Weminuche, Colorado.  Each was turned over to Detective Mike Stoker, to see if he could track him down again, but aside from the postmark, the cards offered no further clues.  Till one day....     "Hey guys, check this one out," Marco told the others in the day room as he brought in the mail.  "I wonder where Johnny found this one.  Look at the size of the fish that guy has.  I don't believe for a minute he got it out of that lake.  They must have faked it."      "I don't know," Roy told him, admiring the fish on the front of the card, "It looks real to me."      "Really,"  Marco said as he took a second closer look.  "Well, maybe, I'd hate to have to clean that thing.  I wonder where they found that fisherman."     Chet grabbed the postcard for a look.      "Well, what does it say?" Cap asked.      Chet flipped it over.  "Check this out."      "Well read it Kelly," Cap said, slightly annoyed.     "I just did.  All it says is 'Check this out!'."      "Huh," Cap said.      "He must mean the fish," Roy explained to them.      "You want to see it Cap?" Kelly asked him, offering up the card.      "NO!  I DON'T WANT TO SEE NO FISH!  Disgusting...slimy little....blaaaah."      Chet grinned fiendishly.  "Aw come on cap, it's just a little..." Chet held up the card for the Cap to see.      "Get that away from me Kelly," Cap threatened, "or you'll have latrine duty for life."      "Can't believe he even hates postcards of fish," Marco whispered to Mike.      "Give it," Mike told Chet as he snapped it from his hand.  He read the back, then flipped it over to check out the fish.  "THAT'S JOHNNY!"      "The fishes name is Johnny?" Cap mumbled to himself.      "NO!  The guy holding the fish, this isn't a postcard, it's a picture."      "No Way," Chet said grabbing for it, only to have Roy snatch it right back out of his hand.  He looked closely at the fisherman, holding the fish.  The trademark grin was covered with whiskers, completely blocking out his dimples, and giving his face the illusion of a somewhat different shape; but the eyes were his partners.  Roy had to smile.       "Boy, is he gettin scruffy lookin," Marco commented over his arm.      "Let's see it Roy," Cap said, hand out.  Roy happily turned it over.      "Watch out for the fish," Roy snickered on his way to pour himself some coffee.  Cap rolled his eyes, but ignored the comment, something Chet would never have gotten away with.  Marco again looked at the picture, over Cap's shoulder.      "I wonder who took the picture," Marco thought aloud.      Chet came back with, "Some girls he probably conned into it?"      "I don't think so Chet.  Looking like this, I doubt he could con a girl into anything."      "I don't know," Mike interjected, "some women Like the rustic look."      "Rustic!" Marco replied.  "Is that what you call it?"      "Sure, my wife loves it when I come home all dirty from a fire.  She, ahhh, never mind."  The other fellas couldn't believe their ears.  That comment could not possibly have come from Stoker; but it had.       Cap looked at his shoes, a bit perplexed.  "My wife barely lets me in the door before she has me in the shower.  Half the time I expect her to turn the garden hose on me before she'll even let me in."      "How about your wife Roy?" Chet asked, too eagerly.  He was thoroughly enjoying all the 'married guy' talk, and mentally taking notes on it all.      "Forget it Chet.  I never kiss and tell."      "How exactly did we get on this subject?" Cap asked without expecting an answer.      "Ummmmm," Chet thought as he tapped his finger against his temple.     "Johnny," Marco informed them.      "Yeah," Cap thought, satisfied, "Figures."                                                              ~*~*~*~*~*~      "NEVER AGAIN!  Forget it Dickie.  I knew I'd have to baby-sit them but THAT....THAT...."      "Now come on...it couldn't have been that bad.  They all had a good time."      "A GOOD TI...They're crazy.  Two of them fell in the lake, three of them got poison ivy, they all got blisters from those ridiculous boots they were wearing...and that's another thing, whoever heard of wear snakeskin cowboys boots on a camping trip!  They must have fallen on their buts thirty times each because of them hard rubber soles.  I swear I had a heart attack out there, trying to get them down the ridge and to the lake.  They all just kept...falling over."      "Is that it?"      "IS THAT IT?"      "I mean, what other problems did you have."      "Well, they just packed way too much stuff.  One guy brought his electric razor!  Another guy brought a transistor radio...but no batteries."      "Well now....how bout this.  Next time you cou...."      "NEXT TIME, oh no.  I just got done telling you there would be no next time."      "You hungry?"      "What?"      "Food, do you want to eat?"      "Well, yeah but..."      "What do you say we get you some food, then maybe we can talk about this?"      "Naw...I don't know.  I really don...."      "Just hear me out, that's all I ask. "  John responded with a huge sigh.  "Come on, good food always puts things into perspective."      "Nothing wrong with my perspective," Johnny mumble to himself a he allowed Dickie to guide him inside, and seat him, again at the out of the way, corner table.  Outside the front doors of the lodge, the fisherman from the first Wilderness group showed off their catches, much to the envy of the other 'day' groups, who had only been to one of the three other near by lakes.  The fishermen had always compared fish, and fishing stories, in order to help determine which of the three lakes were the best.  Now, a fourth lake had been thrown into the fray, and as the evening wore on, it became the obvious winner.  Shortly after he had seated Johnny, Dickie had been called away by group after group, wanting to know about this 'fourth' lake.  By nine that evening, he had three groups of men, willing to hazard the wilderness, and the ornery Mountain Man, in order to obtain a chance to fish at this new lake.       John had eaten his meal in relative peace.  The only thing that disturbed him was the constant stares, finger pointing and whispering that went on around him.  He had had it with those people.  He finished his meal, wiped his mouth, and beard, with a napkin, then threw the napkin down.  He was trying to figure out something to say to his audience, then got a better idea.  He stood up very abruptly, knocking back his chair.  He grinned inside at the startling effect this had on the men, but kept his face stern.  Then he deliberately stomped out of the restaurant, making as much noise as he could, while he took turns glaring into different men's eyes, as he strode passed them.  It tickled him to see so many of them quickly look in another direction.  He had retrieved his camping gear and his Rover from the park, and had parked it behind the lodge before heading out with the group of fishermen, four days before.  While walking toward it, he noticed an outside tap, with a hose.  He felt very grimy, but very tired.  He had debating going to one of the lakes for a bath, but knew it would only leave him smelling like lake water.  He looked carefully around, to make sure he no longer had any sort of an audience, then fetched some shampoo and a towel from his Rover.  Once back at the tap, he again looked around before stripping to his boxers.  He gave himself a quick and thorough shower, shook himself off like a dog, wrapped his towel around over his shorts, then proudly strutted to his Rover to dry and dress inside.  Not once did he notice Layla's bird's eye view from the porch.  Johnny felt to tired to drive anywhere, much less hike, and set up camp, so he simply crashed on his bed in the back.  The next morning, he planned to get his money and some breakfast, then move on to someplace else.  What seemed to Johnny like moments after just falling asleep, he heard someone knocking on his open rear door.  He was surprised to find it was now dark outside, but not surprised to see Dickie standing there with a flashlight.  Knew I should've left, he thought to himself, but he decided to be polite anyhow.       "Hello Dickie...I'd invite you in but...," he said with a smile as he gestured to the small area in back of his Rover that was now his only home.      Dickie laughed, and gave a shrug to show that he understood.  "I been meaning to talk to you.  Exactly what was it that made the trip so bad?"      Johnny sighed, he knew this was coming, and he just wasn't in a talking mood.  "Everything," he replied, knowing his one word answer was never going to be enough.      "Such as....you mentioned their boots," Dickie said, trying to prompt Johnny along, and show that he was seriously listening.      "Yeah, their boots, and they packed way too much, things they'd never need, then left behind things they would need.  They had absolutely no business being out in those woods Dickie."      "Ok, how about this.  You write up a list of everything they need.  They have everything on the list, and take ONLY what's on the list, or they don't go.  Would that work?"      "Well...."      "I'd personally go ever their gear with them, make them do an items check with me, before you even have to see them.  I'll really play it up.  Make it a question of the utmost survival.  They'll eat it up, hook, line and sinker, if you'll forgive the expression."      John laughed, but still had doubts.  "It sounds like a good idea, and I'm sure you'll do well with it, but you'll just have get one of your guides to do it."      "Oh come on, have you seen my guides?  They're as uptight as my clients.  You got something they want."      "The fantasy bit again."      "Yeah."  John just shook his head in reply.  "Money's gone up."      "Oh boy, switching to the hard sell," Johnny laughed as he laid back and pretended to cover his ears.      "For a start, this is your tip from the first group."  Dickie forced himself to fork over the full three hundred that the men had given for Johnny's tip.  He reassured himself it was ok to give it to him, since it was the tip, and he had no reason to ever expect that much again.  Still, he couldn't help kicking himself over the rate he had charged.  His customers had money; and just as they would pay more for the same food, to be eaten in a so-called ambiance, so would they pay more for a simple overnight fishing trip.  Johnny took the three hundred in disbelief.      "Is this for real?"      "There is money to be made here guy, your tip is a minimum of a hundred, the other two came on their own.  Now, you'll get three hundred for the next trip, plus the minimum tip, plus any additional they want to give you.  But don't get confused.  Don't go trying to be nice and earn it, be nasty, growl at 'em, order them around, ignore them all together.  What do ya say?"      "Well, I guess another trip wouldn't kill me."      "That's the spirit.  Get a list together for me, would ya.  Put down everything they'll need."  In very little time, John wrote down a list, and turned it over.  "Great, I'll see to it they have everything, or I promise, they won't be going....See you in the morning."      "Morning?"     "Yep, I'll have 'em ready and waiting for ya."      "I hate you Dickie," John said in a singsong voice.  Dickie just chuckled and left his Mountain Man to get some sleep.                                                               ~*~*~*~*~*~      Finally Detective Mike got the break he was looking for.  John's pattern of unique postcards had stopped.  The last three were all still beautiful outdoor scenes, but each one had 'Three Lakes Fishing Lodge' written along the bottom of the front of each card, in old-fashioned red lettering.  The postmark was the same as it had been, Weminuche, Colorado.  Mike again got a phone number, but every time they tried to call for John Gage, they were informed quite rudely by Layla that no John Gage was staying there, and would they please stop calling.  Layla knew John only as their Mountain Man, and it never occurred to her the calls were about him.  After all, as far as she was concerned, the mountain had simply coughed him up, for the sole purpose of earning her and her husband a great deal of money.      When a fourth postcard arrived with the same inscription, the men of 51 started to take action.  They had only their four days to do so, but they all decided that there could be no better way to spend their precious four days off, than driving up to Weminuche, Colorado to do some fishing.  While all four knew exactly why they had chosen such a far away place, strangely, none of them ever outwardly said a word about it.  They were simply going on a fishing trip, something all five had never done together before.  Roy simply stated in a casual way that he was going.  Chet immediately invited himself along, followed by Marco.  Mike said he had never fished in Colorado before, hence his hasty invitation, given by Roy.  Mike wasn't the type to invite himself, so Roy was grateful for his hint, as he did not relish the idea of Chet and Marco's solo company for an entire four days.  Though they knew Cap hated fish, fishing, and anything remotely fishy, they invited him along, as politeness would dictate.  All four were stunned when he agree to go, pending his wife's permission, of course.  Thomas was not in the room at the time, so politeness did not dictate an invitation for him.  The next shift, Cap confirmed that he would be going, and he offered up his wife's brand new Etsel replacement, a large station wagon, for the trip.      The next morning, the fearless five set off for Colorado, taking turns driving, bickering, and plugging Chet's snoring nose.  They made great time, due mostly to Chet's lead foot, each time he was allowed behind the wheel.      Upon arrival at the lodge, the group piled in, and sat themselves down.  Layla sensed straight away that these were not her usual type of customers. They obviously did not have reservations at the lodge, or getting someone to bring in their luggage would have been their first order of business.  Still, she politely brought them each a menu, and crept off to wait for the results.  Soon the five intruders quietly got up, and left.      "Ain't  no WAY, Johnny's been eatin here," Chet spoke angrily as he glared at Mike.  It was the first acknowledgment by any of them for their true reason for the trip.      "Man, they must've thrown those cards away, or somethin.  I'd hate to even think of what they must charge for them." said Marco.       Mike turned and strode purposefully back into the lodge, while the others hissed inquiries at his back as to what he was doing.  Soon, they saw him in a window, by a postcard display.  They watched closely as he turned through it, then picked out two cards, which he pressed against the glass for them to see.  They were the same as two they had received.  Layla glared at him on his way out, but Mike pretended not to notice.      "How much do they cost?" Cap asked him when he rejoined the group.      "Ten dollars."      "TEN?" Marco squeaked.      "Johnny would not pay one full dollar for a postcard, much less ten," Roy spoke out, confused.      "Well Mike?" Marco asked.      "Well what?"      "What's the answer?"      "I don't know."      "What are we going to do now?" Chet asked sadly.      "Eat," Cap all but ordered.  "Let's go back to that small town we came through.  That looked more like Johnny's speed anyway."  They all agreed food should be their next step, as they were all very hungry.  When they had eaten, and asked some question of different people at the cafe', with out any results, they returned to the Three Lakes Lodge.  All five looked around at various groups of men, now starting to return from their days fishing trips.  Some of them went directly into the lodge, while others went to fish in the lake that the lodge bordered.  None of them even came close to looking like their missing friend.  From what they could see, Johnny had absolutely no business being in a place like this, anymore than they had.  Still none were ready to give up.       Roy walked back to the station wagon, and started to remove his gear. There was a public fishing dock going out into the lake, not too far from the lodge, though the lodge had two much better ones a good ways down, and over deeper water.  It was going to be a warm, beautiful night, and Roy had decided not to waste it.  They had all purchased fishing licenses in town, save Cap.  Soon, Mike and then Marco joined Roy.  Chet was too antsy to fish, so he took out his Firemen's picnic photo, and started showing it to anyone who would talk to him, asking if they had seen this particular man in the picture.  Cap, hating fish as he does, dug out a lounge chair and a book, then positioned himself to make use of a nearby outdoor light.  He tried to tell himself he could not smell the fish from where he sat, but he could.  He walked over to some pine trees, a good ways away, and cut off some branches with a lock blade he had found in Roy's pack.  He then tied the branches in strategic point, around his chair.  Finally satisfied, he sat down amongst his pine boughs, and took a deep breath.  Smelling nothing now but their aroma, he giggled to himself about his genius, and went back to his book.       After Roy had caught three fish, Marco two, and him nothing, Mike decided he needed to use worms as well, and not his lure.  He walked back to the station wagon to tie on a hook.  As far as the worms went, he'd figured he'd get some of Roy's; he knew at least Roy wouldn't tease him about it like Chet and Marco would.  He just had to make sure Marco didn't see him.  He had heard Marco's speech about using nature's lures to catch nature's creatures, three times on the trip up already, and he had not wanted to hear it again.  On his way to the wagon, he saw Chet accosting the lodge's patrons with his picture.  Mike felt a quick stab of jealously at not having thought of it himself, but cheered himself at Chet's silly mistake.  He dug around in the wagon until he came up with what he was looking for, then carried it over to Chet with a simple "here".  Mike handed over the picture John had sent of himself and the fish.  He then went back to his fishing, while leaving Chet to his.       While the men on the public dock were very friendly, and willing to talk to Chet all night, the men from the lodge would barely give him the time of day.  The lodge docks were private, but not fenced off, so Chet went on them anyway.  After being asked for his ticket on one of them, he headed off to the other.  The men he left behind on the dock had a good laugh at his expense, as there was no such thing as a 'ticket'.       Mike smiled as he reeled in his fourth fish, and his self proclaimed limit for the night.  Roy had reach his fourth shortly before, and had made himself comfortable on the dock, shoes and socks off, feet dangling in the water, his catch glistening in the moonlight.  Marco had stalled at two, and was now cursing the worms.      A group of rowdy men passed by Cap in the dark.  Definitely lodge types, Cap decided, despite their ripe order, and dirty rumpled clothes.  He didn't notice the fifth figure slowly following the group a pace or two behind, not making a sound amongst their uproar.      Dickie stood in the light of the porch as he saw his last wilderness group approach, all smiles.  They held up their fish, which Dickie knew had actually been supplied by their guide, sometime during the previous night; their real catches having been made into a meal for bears, or raccoons, or other wild animals.  Two of them were soaking wet, as was their unhappy guide.  The four men entered the lodge to cheers, while the fifth made his way around the back to give himself yet another hose shower, and hit the sack.  Dickie hurried inside to tell Layla to take a large plate of food out to him.  He doubted he would just take off, as tired as he had looked, but just in case, the food would help.  Besides, Dickie had to admit, he had earned it.  Layla listened for the tap to be shut off before she took the food out the back door, then slowly followed his towel wrapped body to his Rover.  While she had taken in his laundry, she had never offered him a room.  It was better for business if he was never seen around, except for an occasional meal, at his now exclusive to himself, corner table.  John opened one of his doors, and preceded to dress behind it, dressing inside taking more time and trouble than he wanted to put up with.  Layla tactfully pretended not to notice.  She could not help from glancing in his direction a few times, even though she could not see much of anything.  When he finished, he opened the rear door, took his food, and sat inside to eat it, all without a word.  He's really tired tonight, she thought to herself.  Better warn Dickie not to make the next trip for the morning.      "Goodnight," she said softly as he handed her his plate.      "Night," he whispered back as he crawled inside.  Layla scooped up Johnny's clothes and went back into the lodge.                                                              ~*~*~*~*~*~      "They call him, 'THE MOUNTAIN MAN'," Chet announced proudly as he ran onto the public dock.      "QUIET CHET," Marco scolded, "You'll scare the fish."      "FORGET THE STINKING FISH.  I FOUND JOHNNY!"      Roy nearly fell off the dock, sitting up from his reclined position, feet still in the water.  "WHERE IS HE?"      "Well, he's here, that much I know."      "CHET!" Roy shouted, annoyed at such an answer.      "Wait a minute now, and I'll explain.  See, it seems our little friend is a, get this, a WILDERNESS FISHING GUIDE."      "Never heard of such a thing," Marco said, still trying to coax a third fish onto his hook.      "Wilderness Fishing Guide," Roy repeated.  "But where is he?"      "He works at the lodge, or out of it anyway.  They say he just shows up the morning of the trips, takes them out to this secret lake, out in the WILDERNESS, then brings them back and disappears till next time.  Though they say, if you're lucky, you might be able to see him eating at HIS table in the restaurant."      "THE RESTAURANT WE COULDN'T AFFORD A CUP OF COFFEE IN?" Marco squeaked."      "Yeah."      "How about that," Mike whispered to himself, fully impressed.      "And right now, there are a bunch of guys in there, arguing about who gets to go next.  They're actually bidding against each other.  It's INCREDIBLE!"      "Do you realize the amount of money he must be making?" Marco asked aloud.       "Would you forget about the money Marco?"      "I can't help it Chet.  Ever since I saw that menu....places like this should be closed down for stupid pricing.  On the other hand.....maybe I should open up a place like this."      "Forget it, you know how much kissing up you'd have to do in a place like this?" Mike informed him.      "I can't imagine Johnny doing that at all," Roy said, still confused by the picture.      "He doesn't have to.  They say he is mean and nasty and dirty and smelly, and if you don't do what he says, he'll ditch you and leave you to die.  They say he even fed this one guy to a bear for getting his line stuck in a tree."      Mike laughed.  "Ah, the power of rumors."      "Yeah," Roy grinned.  He started to get a very romantic picture of the job, bossing these yobos around, people getting out of your way as you walked in, private table at the restaurant, camping out every night, earning loads of money, complete freedom.  Little did he know that less than five hundred yards away, Johnny had vowed to himself, never to be a guide again, as he drifted off to sleep.       With no hope of finding Johnny that night, but some hope of finding him the next day, the four men informed their Captain of their news, then made their way to a campgrounds, a few minutes drive from the lodge.                                                            ~*~*~*~*~*~      Dickie was excited, happy, and very pleased with the latest turn of events.  A group of Japanese business men calling on the phone, trying to make a reservation for the 'Wilderness Trip', accompanied by his own loud talking on his side of the conversation, had actually triggered a bidding war for the next trip between two groups already present, and the men on the phone.  He explained to the group on the phone that the next trip would leave in two days, and since it lasted for four days, their arrival in three days would leave them out.  They offered to pay more for the one day delay of the next trip, angering the men there, who were already arguing as to which would be the one the go.  In the end, the Japanese group won out, giving John a break of three days.  Now his next major task became to figure out how to keep Johnny from leaving within the next three days, and never coming back.  Despite John's nest egg in his safe, he figured the money would do that.  He decided to wait until morning before approaching him.  Layla had told him he'd crashed right away, so he figured he had at least until noon of the next day to start trying to sell him on the next trip.      Bright and early the next morning, the lodge was invaded by a group of five, definitely un-lodge types.  Lead by their Captain, they approached the desk to try to book a quick fishing trip with a particular guide, not yet fully aware as to exactly how exclusive access to that particular guide was.      "Good morning!" Cap told Layla as she took in the sight of the group.      "Good morning," she replied pleasantly, if a bit haughty.      "We would like to book a fishing trip with one of your guides, a guy by the name of John Gage."      At first Layla looked confused, but then smiled big in complete understanding.  "You must have the WRONG place," she answered happily.  "I bet you want the fishing shop, about ten miles back down the road.  They offer guided fishing trips, and all sorts of fishing equipment.  I'll bet you will even be able to get a commemorative T-shirt there."  Cap looked more baffled than insulted at the subtle slight, but tried to move on.      "Noooo, we ah...."      "We want the Mountain Man to take us," Chet interrupted loudly, trying to help.  Laughter broke out behind them, as several lodge dwellers listened in.  Whispers along with a great deal of more laughter continued after that.  Layla traded knowing looks with the men, to share in the joke.      "No, I'm sorry, those trips are all overnighters."      "Well, we can do that, right guys?" Chet asked them.  They all agreed.  An overnight trip would be great.      "Do you have a reservation?" Dickie asked as walked behind the counter.  He figured he would get rid of them quick.      "No," Cap answered feebly.      "Need a reservation.  Then its five hundred per man, hundred tip at the end, members have priority.  Are any of you memb....?"      "FIVE HUNDRED?" Marco squealed."      "It is a four day trip."      "Oh, no we just want an overnight...." Cap explained.      "I can hook you up with Dale for...."      "AN OVERNIGHT WITH THE MOUNTAIN MAN!" Chet repeated for Dickies benefit.  Laughter again erupted behind them.      "He only does the four day trip," Dickie replied evenly.      "Look," Roy jumped in, growing more frustrated by the minute.  "Could you just tell us where we might find him?"      "Find him?" Dickie asked.      "Yeah, where's he staying? Is he staying here?"      "No, NO he just fades away into the woods, no one knows where he goes," Dickie answered loudly for the benefit of his paying members still listening in nearby.      "Well when do you expect to see him next," Roy asked equally as loud.      Dickie was fed up.  "Don't know," he replied quietly this time.      With much muttering, and sad looks, the men of 51 left , and set up camp to hang around, within full view of the front of the lodge, while still being on public land.  They knew camping was not allowed overnight there, but at least they had all day, and access to the public fishing pier.  If nothing else, they could all catch some more fish.                                                               ~*~*~*~*~*~      Dickie couldn't believe the guys he had just encountered.  He forced himself to dismiss them from his mind.  He had more important things to tend to.  Next on his list was to snare John into the next trip.  He walked out the back door, and carefully listened for any sounds coming from Johnny's Rover.  After hearing nothing, he crept closer and peered inside.  The rear door had been left open to catch the breeze.  Laying face down, spread eagle, and clad in only a pair of jeans, John slept peacefully.  Dickie knew he should wait, but the deal was making him nasty.  If the trip went well, he imagined more and more Japanese businessmen seeking membership to his lodge, and everyone knew how much money they had.  He rapped gently on the side of the Rover, to show respect for it being John's home.  When John didn't stir, he rapped harder.  Continued lack of response caused him to bang heavily a third time while clearing his throat.      "Go away Dickie."      "Morning John."      "Go AWAY Dickie."      "I'll be gone in just a sec, I just wanted to tell you the good news."      "I'm asleep Dickie."      "I know, you can sleep for three days as soon as I'm through, how does that sound?"  This time he received no response.  "I got you an extra hundred for the next trip."  No response.  "John?"       "No."      "What?"      "I said NO."      "No what?"      "No more.  Not doing it anymore.  Get someone else."      "Now John..."      "Uh uh," John said, moving for the first time, and turning to sit up and look at Dickie, "no more talking me into it.  I'm not listening to you anymore."      "John, now I never..."      "These men...these...people...have NO BUSINESS being in the woods.  I can't do EVERYTHING for them."      "Now I've made sure...."      "NO, now you told me you'd get better groups.  You keep promising me you'd get some groups that knew what they were doing.  Instead, EVERY group I've taken has been worse than the one before it."     Images of six little Japanese guys, wearing glasses; pens and calculators sticking out of their pockets, unable to even stand upright under the weight of a full pack, much less keep up with the strong and lanky guide, flashed through Dickie's head.  John was right, and he knew it.  He had to make him wrong, and fast.      "Now what if I got..."      "Shoo Dickie."      "Just give me a couple of minutes, I'll be RIGHT back," Dickie exclaimed while making a hasty retreat.      John flopped back down on his mattress and closed him eyes.  "You better not," he whispered to himself, then faded back to sleep.                                                                ~*~*~*~*~*~      Dickie went back into the lodge, searching for someone, ANYONE, that would do.  The only men still left in the lodge by this time were the lodge's tea-toddlers; those who supposedly came to fish, but ended up spending most of their time talking about it instead.  They were definitely not the guys he wanted to see.  He paced back and forth, trying to come up with a solution.  He needed a bargaining chip.  Even if John refused to take the next group he offered, it would open up at least a conversation about the following trip.  Without a group to refute John's valid argument, Dickie knew he was dead in the water.  He decided to walk outside to the lodge's fishing docks to see who might still be hanging around out there.  Just after walking out the door, he saw them again.  They were perfect.  Just what he needed?  He approached them cautiously, not wanting to show his hand.      Roy and Mike were each cleaning a fish, while Cap tried with great difficulty to ignore them.  Chet was busy trying to get a tangle out of Marco's line, while Marco stood next to him, telling him what he was doing wrong.      "So, how are you fella's doing?" Dickie asked once they had noticed him approaching.      "Fine," Roy replied, trying not to sneer.      "I don't suppose you'd still be interested in your little overnight trip now, would ya?"      "Yeah!" Chet said eagerly as he leapt off the hood of the wagon.      "Easy you twit," Cap chastised him for his roughness on his wife's new car.      "Wait a minute," Marco said skeptically, "who with?"      "Our Mountain Man," Dickie told them nonchalantly.      "Yes!" Chet again answered.      "How much?" Marco asked, not wanting to be taken for a ride.      "Well, if you leave in a couple of hours, you'd get a day and a half with him all together, so I figure that to be...one seventy-five per man."      "We'll take it," Chet responded.      "ONE SEVENTYFIVE?" Marco squeaked.  "and don't it take a whole day just to get to this lake?"      "No, no, not if you know what you're doing?  You have all been camping before, haven't you?"  He got a round of yes's, and some nods.  "Well, if you can keep up with him, our Mountain Man can get you to the lake in four hours.  You'd have the rest of the afternoon, this evening, and most of tomorrow to fish, hike, and generally enjoy yourselves, plus the hike itself is pretty nice."      "Come on guys," Chet prompted.      "So this Mountain Man is here now," Roy said questioningly.      "Yeah, he's around, I'll still have to clear it with him, but...ah...if you guys can be ready in half an hour, I'll see what I can do."      "Well, I'm in," Roy replied.      "Me too," Chet agreed.      "You sure Roy," Cap asked him quietly.  "I don't know about Joanne, but if I come home a hundred and seventy-five lighter...."      "Joanne won't mind, " Roy replied, "she figures, if I earn it...my call."      Mike and Marco also started to scrounge their wallets for the money.  "You too Mike?" Cap asked him.  "Won't Barb..."      "Flowers can do amazing things," was Mike's only response.  Chet and Marco, being single, had no one to answer to.  Moments later, the other four stood staring at Cap, waiting to see what he would do.  Cap shook his head and mumbled something about the new wagon being good for at least a couple more arguments, then he too took out his wallet and produced enough money.  Dickie took their money, then told them to be ready to leave shortly, if he could swing it.  He left them to go present his new, low maintenance group, to John.  With his mind trying to figure out what approach would be best to use, he did not notice that he had acquired five shadows.      Dickie rounded the side of the lodge to find his guide, again sprawled out, and asleep in the back of his Rover.  He decided on a forceful approach.      "Up and at 'em John.  The group you ordered will be waiting for you in half an hour.  Now, what do you want for your breakfast?"      "I didn't order any group," John mumbled sleepily, without opening his eyes.      "Sure you did.  I promised you an experienced group, and I got you one.  It will be a nice easy trip, just an overnighter.  How does that sound for a change?"      "A what?" John asked, peeking at Dickie through half closed eyes.      "An overnighter.  Four hours out..."      "Four...DICKIE," John yelped, "Do you have any idea how long it took the last group to get to the lake?  Well I'll tell you.  A day and a half.  A DAY AND A HALF.  We had to make camp on top of the ridge the first night because it got too dark to make it down.  Now you want me take a group in four hours?  You're crazy!"      "This group is experienced, that's what you asked for."      "Experienced...like you know experienced.  Can they carry their own packs?  Can they set up their own tents?  Can they tie their own hooks?  Can they untangle their own lines?  Can they even tie their own boots?"      "I sure hope so," Cap interrupted good-naturedly.  John's mouth dropped a foot as he took in his next Wilderness group that had decided to stop eaves dropping and make themselves seen from around the corner.       "Wha...what are you guys doing HERE?"      "Oh," Chet grinned mischievously as he rocked on the heels of his feet, "just thought we'd do a little fishing."      "In Colorado."      "Yep," Marco added happily.      "You too?" John asked Cap, knowing his distaste of fish.      "I just came along for the ride.  Thought I could use some fresh air," Cap added giving John a friendly pat on the back.       Aside from obvious shock, John's expression was unreadable.  None of the five were certain whether or not he was happy to see them; after all, they had just invaded his new life.      "So you going to show us your lake or what?" Chet teased.      "Yeah, I guess...if that's what you guys want."      "That's what we paid for," Marco informed him.      "PAID?" John exclaimed aloud accidentally.  He glared at Dickie, but decided to leave things as they were for the time being.  "All right...well...let me grab a bite, and some gear, and we'll go."  John took a quick glance at Roy, but couldn't come up with anything to say to him.  Roy was having the same problem, and neither could meet the other's eyes.                                                             ~*~*~*~*~*~*~      Birds were chirping and singing in the trees.  Squirrels and rabbits darted about.  The air was warm, breezy and fresh.  The aroma of pine, mixed with several different flowers, tickled their noses.  The mountain, though not that large, was beautiful.  At first John tramped along quickly, fighting a strange urge to get away from these men.  As he became aware that his experience with the path was giving him an unfair advantage, he slowed his pace.  Once he slowed down, the other men were able to chat amongst themselves, instead of focusing completely on their feet.  As they began to enjoy themselves, so did John.  Still, the tension in the air was unmistakable to all, and none knew quite how to get rid of it.      After hiking for an hour, and noticing some of his friends puffing, John called for a rest.  The others gladly dropped their packs, and settled as comfortably as they could, on the ground.  John dropped his pack as well, but rather than sitting with the rest, he wandered off the path a ways, pretending to examine some bushes for berries.  When he actually found some, he started to eat them.  Unnoticed by him, but noticed by all the others, a bear ambled out of the woods, and directly toward Johnny.  They started to hiss at him, but his mind was on more berries.  The bear stood up on its hind feet behind him, and continued to walk toward Johnny.      "JOHN!" Roy hissed as loudly as he dared, wanting to warn his friend, but not anger the bear.      John felt something standing behind him, and turned, just as the bear knocked him off balance, and to the ground.      "JOHNNY!" the others screamed, not knowing what to do.  Mike and Chet started looking for sticks, or anything, to use as a weapon.  Roy, Marco, and Cap started shouting at the bear, trying to distract him, but the bear only focused on John.  Much to their amazement, the bear walked over the top of his legs, and plopped itself down.      "All right!  All right already....here," John told the bear as he surrendered his handful of berries.  Five mouths dropped open.  Still the bear was not happy.  It got to its feet again, then effectively pinned John to the ground, while its nose investigated every square centimeter of his shirt.  "Well if you get off me, I'll give it to you," John shouted, giving the bear a shove.  The bear backed down over John's legs, allowing him to sit up, but keeping him from going anywhere.  John produced a candy bar from his pocket, and the bear growled softly.  "Grrrrr yourself," John told it as it tried to nip at the candy.  John pulled it away, and gave its snout a push.  "No, the paper will make you sick."  Again the bear nipped at the candy.  "NO, let me unwrap it first."  Once unwrapped, John fed the candy to the bear, which it greedily took.  When it finished, it again started investigating John's clothing, tickling him mercilessly.  He pushed and shoved at it, proclaiming he had no more, and the bear eventually backed off.  John got up, gave the bear another friendly shove from behind, brushed himself off, and walked with a smile toward the others, pleased with the expressions on their faces. "Samantha," he told them.      "Huh," they managed to say.      "Samantha, she used to be in a petting zoo in town.  They closed, and the owner, couldn't bare to see it stuck in some big, unfriendly zoo, so she just let her go.  The lady lives out here, keeps an eye on her.  She's a vet actually, except, not for money.  Anything out here gets hurt, she finds it and tries to help it.  A lot of the animals are unusually tame in this area, but don't go feeding anything, unless I tell you it's ok."      "Samantha?" Chet asked.      "Samantha." John confirmed.      "Knew it had to be a girl," Chet snickered.      John rolled his eyes.  "Very funny."      "What happens if you don't have a candy bar for her," Cap asked, "or do I want to know."      "Nah...nothing.  She smelled it, so she knew I had one."      "SMELLED IT?  Through the wrapper, and your clothes?"      "Yeah, sure she can," John told him.  "They have a great sense of smell."      They arrived at the lake with plenty of time left in the day to fish, swim, explore, or whatever they wished.  First up on the list, however, was to set up camp.  John normally ended up doing most of the work alone, while his paying customers tried, unsuccessfully, to catch their dinner.  This time, as he started on the chores, he found he had plenty of help.  Just after starting, he slapped himself in the forehead, then dug in his pack for a handy talkie.  During his off days, John had gotten to know some of the locals.  He had helped out on various unfortunate situations he had come across, from helping the drunken teenage son of the local sheriff, and his friends, find their ways home, to searching for a little girl's dog, that had run off after rabbits.  The locals laughed at the lodge dwellers, and their fascination with this young man.  To them, he was just a sweet, if a little goofy, fellow, that liked to help people out.  He had remarked to some of them his fears of getting into a situation in the woods with these men, and not being able to get them any help.  Dickie, in that area, was useless.  They had obliged him with a handy talkie, and instructions to check in with them, just as other, non-lodge fishing groups did.  He had helped them out several times, and if they could ever repay the favor, they would help him out, even if his clients were twits.       "Big Bear, this is the Mountain Man, can any of you hear me?  Over."  Big Bear was a restaurant where many of the locals met, that had a wide range receiver.  It was through this receiver that they were all able to look out for each other.  John's response was static.  "Big Bear, this is Mountain Man," John tried again to Chet and Marco's laughter.  John shot them a narrow eyed glare, followed by a silly grin, "Can anybody hear me?"      "You back out there again?" came a crackly response.      "Yeah," John answered tiredly.      "Didn't you just go back?"      "Yeah."      "Dickie suckered you again, huh."      "Look, if all you are going to do is pick on me, I'm never going to check in again." "Where exactly are you?"      "I'm at the lake."      "You didn't by any chance see any kids out there, did ya?"      "KIDS, n..no....why?"      "Well...we got ourselves a big problem here.  Derek came across this boy a few hours ago, hiking all by himself.  It seems he and his little brother was allowed to go exploring by themselves this morning.  They got lost, needless to say.  He says his brother is still out there.  He's hurt himself.  It's hard to say how badly.  The kid thinks he might have broken his foot.  The little kid was crying, and wouldn't walk on it.  His brother thought he was faking, so he just kept going, figuring he'd catch up.  When he tried to go back for him, he couldn't find him.  We're trying to help find him with his brother, but now he's all confused.  No telling what direction he really came from, or where they went.  All he can tell us, is he left him by some rocks that look like a railroad bridge.  We been wracking our brains on that one."      "A railroad bridge huh, how big?"      "Huh?  Let me ask......ah he don't know, big he says."      "Could a real train go over it?"      "He says no.  Now he says it's like a cave."      "Like a cave?  Does he mean like a tunnel?"      "Uh...here, talk to him."      "Hello?" asked a frightened boy's voice.      "Hi there, what's your name?"      "You have to let go of the button son, then you can hear him.  Only push it when you talk," came the muffled reply.  "Try it again."      "Hello?" asked the boy again.      John waited a second before speaking.  "What's your name?"      "vid."      "You have to push the button all the way down before you talk, then let it go all the way when you are done, now what is your name?"      "David."      "That's really good David, my name is Johnny.  What is your brother's name?"      "mon...Simon."      "And you left him by a kind of bridge made of rocks, or by a cave?"      "Both."      Johnny took a swipe at his nose in frustration.  "Ok, look...could you climb on it, the bridge part?"      "Yes, we climbed on it, then Simon got hurt getting down.  I jumped, so he jumped.  I told him to just slide down like a baby, but he wouldn't do it."      It looks like a bridge, but they can climb on it, and jump off of it...  "Now the cave, do you mean like a tunnel, under the bridge?"      "I don't know."      "Ok...did you go in the cave?"      "Yeah, we both did.  It was his idea.  Mom said no caves, but he went anyway.  It's his fault."      "Look, it's ok, no one is in any trouble here.  We just want to find your brother, ok?"      "Ok."      "Now...in the cave, did you have to come out the same way, or could you crawl all the way through it."      "No."      Johnny sighed and took another swipe at his nose.  "No what?"      "I couldn't fit.  Simon crawled out the other side.  He thought it was a really big deal."      Johnny took a deep breath.  Ok now we're getting somewhere.  "All right, David, can you tell me what your brother was wearing?" continue