The handle of the pan folded over and had a metal plate on top of it. He unsnapped the handle on his belt buckle and separated the plate from the pan with the hand that didn’t hold the fish. Holding the pan upright, he slapped the two fish into it; then he took the plate in his other hand. His thumb felt greasy where he had held the fish. He wiped it against one levi pant leg as he walked out into the sunlight. | The fire was ready to cook on by now. He set the pan on the stove-like metal plate he had balanced across the rocks around the fire. For a moment even the fire seemed silent. Then the ercase from the fish began to pop, and the fish began to fry. The man inhaled the cooking-fish smell and smiled into his plate. A light wind had picked up by the time George finished his breakfast. He set his plate down on the rocks encircling the now dying fire and stood up. He faced into the wind and squinted at the mountains which made his background. The sun had climbed higher above the peaks. * ; wh in , Not much time left: just enough for a row around the arm.” Suddenly, without motivation, but as if freed from a trance, George bent down and scooped dirt into his hands. First slowly, then more rapidly, he tossed the dirt into the fire, scooped more dirt, and threw it until the fire had been completely smothered. He stood and brushed dusty hands on his levis. Leaving his plate where it lay, George stood and walked away toward the tent. He walked around to the far side of the tent to where his small canoe lav. W ithout stopping to look, but almost. in one motion, he grabbed the canoe by the bow and pulled it along the brownish undergrowth. When he came to the sand, the boat made a furrow behind as he dragged it. He reached water but kept on walking. Each step, the cold water climbed higher, first to his ankles, then half way knee-level the boat was afloat. to his knees. At ee Fe paddled around the arm of the lake slowly. He was now ready for the return race. Every day for the eleven days George had been at this camp he had raced himself around the arm. His best time to this point stood at 25 minutes. 37 seconds . he wind moved across the lake and swept by George. His teeth gritted without his help. He looked up at the sun now nearing its peak. He crossed his arms and massaged his muscles to loosen them. Then he put his arms down at his sides and tensed them: Elis muscles bulged the arms of the checkered shirt. He reached into his left breast pocket to get his stop watch. He pulled it out took it from his right hand to his left. He reached his right hand under the seat of the canoe and got the paddle. _ He touched the starting-button on the watch and flipped it back into his breast pocket. His left hand grabbed the top of the paddle. He put his weight into the paddle, pulling the boat forward. He lifted the paddle, crossed it in front of him to the other side of the 20 canoe, and jammed it into the water jammed again and again. ahead. He pulled, crossed, and His arms began to ache, and his neck muscles pulled to his back. Hot sweat beaded on his forehead, but the wind swept it cold as it ran down his flushed face. He swept around the arm and was now headed toward the finish line at camp. He felt weak. His arms hurt, but he felt he had done it faster. He jammed and pulled harder. The canoe moved faster, but his breaking arms were catching him. He encouraged himself, “Only a couple of hundred yards left. Got to beat the time.” He pulled harder. He crossed the line and clawed at his breast pocket. His tingers clutched the watch. He fumbled for the off-button, found it, and pushed down. The canoe slowed and rested on the water. George didn’t look at the watch right away. He lay back to rest in the canoe. Then he turned the gold stop watch over. Its hands read 23 minutes, 7 seconds. He sighed heavily but restfully. He had won. He returned the watch to his breast pocket. He rowed the boat to the shore and pulled it onto the beach so it wouldn’t go adrift. He walked up to the dry sand on the beach and lay down to rest and wait. ‘ The cabin cruiser picked him up that afternoon. He had shaved, showered, and changed; and the men had just cleaned his camp up. George stood by the railing of the cabin cruiser, watching the men load his equipment onto the cruiser. His dark ivy-league suit contrasted with the roughness of the country. He pulled at the forgotten tightness of his tab-collar shirt. He slipped his hands into his right pocket to get his nail clippers. He brought them out and looked at his nails. They were rough and dirty, the last sign that he had spent eleven days in the wilds. He shook his head disgustedly. He started clipping his left thumbnail as he watched the men load the last of his equipment aboard the cabin cruiser. He watched one man in particular. The man wore a dusty gray sweat shirt and once-white levis. The whiteness of the levis had been lost long ago under several layers of dirt. The man’s sweat streaked the dirt on his face as he worked, loading George’s equipment. George screwed up his face in disgust. He shook his head to show his displeasure at the dirtiness of the man. He finished clipping his left hand and saw that the working men were ready to come aboard. He straightened his pencil-thin tie and pulled once more at his collar. As the working men came aboard, George went below deck to his private room. — LAURENCE 2) HUSTON