he counterman.
"Got any change? I have to make a phone call."

The counterman took the bill and walked to the cash register. The mate
cast a quick glance at Rick, then called, "Sam, I need some change,
too. Give me some nickles and dimes for this half-buck." He tossed a
fifty-cent piece on the counter.

Rick relaxed. Perhaps some of the townfolk had seen his and Scotty's
pictures in the paper, but evidently the mate wasn't one of them.
There had been no recognition in the man's eyes.

The counterman handed Rick a dollar in change and gave the mate some
smaller change. He winked. "Gotta call yer girl, Chick?"

"Sure have," the mate answered. He had an odd voice, as though his
nasal passages were completely blocked with a bad cold. He looked at
Rick. "Go ahead, kid, make your call."

"After you, sir," Rick said politely. "I'm in no hurry."

"Thanks." The mate walked to the booth and shut himself in.

Rick got up and wandered casually in that direction, his ears cocked
for the mate's words. Unfortunately, the booth was tight. He could
hear only a faint murmur. He went back to the counter and started
sipping his coffee, keeping his eyes on the booth. He heard the dim
tone of bells and his pulse quickened. Those were coins dropping into
the slots. The mate was making an out-of-town call! If only he could
hear!

The hot coffee was almost scalding, but he scarcely noticed. His mind
was racing, searching for some way to overhear that conversation.
There just wasn't any way. If he walked over and put his ear to the
booth, the men sitting at the tables and farther up the counter would
see. No, he was sunk this time.

Within four minutes the mate was out of the booth. He came over and
took a seat at the counter a few stools up and nodded at Rick.
"Thanks, boy."

"That's all right," Rick said. He had to make a pretense of phoning
now. Well, he could call Spindrift and tell his mother they would be
home for lunch. He hadn't been sure how long the hearing would take
when they left.

He went into the booth and closed the door. The phone had no dial.
Evidently Seaford, like Whiteside, had no dial system. He started to
pick up the receiver and inspiration struck him. If he could imitate
the mate . . .

He tried to imitate Chick's nasal tone and thought he did pretty well.
He tried again, and it sounded a little better. Anyway, he thought,
there was nothing to lose by trying. If Seaford had more than one
operator on the