Cheated by Bernice McEntire YES, it was dark, dark as pitch, and the Box Elder trees and shabby houses seemed to fly by as the shiny black Buick sped along the highway. Wade Evans, chief salesman for the sugar company, after spending his long day on the road selling contracts to the beet growers, was singing to himself. He was glad, all right, to have a week's vacation which he could spend at home, but he was singing merely because the rolling stalks of sage brush were a great inducement to sleep and he must drive most of the night in order to reach Boise by early morning. Even though he sang to himself, he was constantly nodding off his sleepiness. "I guess I ought to pick up somebody, at least it might keep me awake," this ana other ideas for the future were running through his mind. Of course, he would be safe, after all, what was the gun for it it wasn't to protect him; no one would be ungrateful enough to do anything drastic. Nothing had happened before. It seemed hours before, in the glare of his headlights, he noticed a fat boy of about twenty-five wandering along the roadway unaware of his approaching car. Wade slowed the car to a stop beside him and said, "Like a ride, buddy?" "Sure," was the boy's only reply. Slowly climbing inside he seated himself beside Wade Evans and almost immediately fixed his eyes upon a certain spot along the road. He acted, Wade thought, as though it was a privilege to give him a ride. But what of that; he should make the best of it, anyway. "Where are ya' going, son?" Wade tried to center his interest on some one idea. "Oregon," the boy said staring into the dark beyond the headlights, elbows on knees, he balanced his chin in his hands. "Goin' out there to work or just to see the country?" Page Four "Got a job coming up," he answered, speaking above the radio. It seemed as though he was contented with the orchestra which was blasting forth with strains from Brahm's Hungarian Dance. What sort of a person was he? Evans analyzed him. Short and stubby, yet he was dressed very neatly for a hitch hiker. Must have just cleaned up, but he didn't have a suitcase. Why does he act like that? Maybe he's got something on his mind. Could be he was just bashful. Holding down a steady mileage, the car rolled up one hill and down another and to break the silence, Wade said, "What part of Oregon are you going to? That certainly-- He was cut off by a curt, "Salem," from the boy who had his eyes fixed on the one spot and had never moved them since he had started to ride almost an hour before. Maybe he's hiding something. "Do your folks live in Salem?" And before he could get another word out, the boy shot forth with a sharp, "No!" It was obvious to Wade that the boy was avoiding any conversation. "Maybe I can break down this barrier or whatever it is, if I start talking." By now all sorts of answers for the boy's behavior were taking root in Evan's mind. "I've just returned from Pendleton myself. That certainly is dusty dry country up there isn't it? I think that it is much more beautiful around Portland, don't you?" "Yes, I believe so," it seemed as though he might have given in a little, but still he kept his eyes glued to the road. He acted as if he was afraid of the way he was driving the car and sixty wasn't too fast. "If he doesn't want to talk, why should I insist? Anyway I'm giving up. Let him listen to the radio." He concentrated on his driving. Every now and then he found himself nodding off to sleep and the boy he certainly was a queer fellow, staring as he was, avoiding the questions of the driver. What could be on his mind? "I'd never be surprised if he were even a criminal." Wade forced himself to think of it. Still why did he stare so? What was he ashamed of? And then the thought suddenly occurred to him that he might be one of these so-called highway bandits. He had heard that they were roaming the highways. But that was silly, a distinguished looking fellow like this boy, a highway man. One doesn't know what to expect from anybody now days. Perhaps he shouldn't have picked him up. He hadn't served his purpose either. With a boy like this at his side, Evans couldn't afford to go to sleep. Both had been silent for a long time. (Continued on page 6)