We were packing to leave when the hotel clerk said I was wanted on the telephone. It was Mrs. Inchcliff.
“There is trouble on the station. The men are leaving. The power plant has broken down. But they're big grown men, they can go to bed in the dark. Did you notice any trouble while you were there? I have a feeling Rollo is slipping.”
“No. Mrs. Inchliff,” I said. “It isn't Rollo. It's Hoppy. Take my advice and fly up a new power plant man, and your troubles will be over. They can't see the film if there is no power.”
“I don't understand?”
“Just get the plant fixed, and do me a favor.”
“What?”
“Ship them some new Hoppy films. I think the sheep dogs are going mad looking at the old film.”
“I wouldn't want anything to happen to the dogs,” she said. But she hung up quickly as if I had been touched in the head myself by my trip out to the station …
Hoppy, the world is yours!
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