Hides and furs were exchanged for rubles. The Soviets usually ignored these primitive American communities, which served their purposes because their commanding officers did a brisk trade with the mountainmen who did fur trapping. Moosehead Township was a set of ten or twelve wooden shacks and a tanning shed for hides. It was the area around a small hunter-trapper community called Moosehead. They came upon an area 235 miles south of Colorado Springs Plain that Rockson himself had crossed years earlier. There was a pack rat sticking its nose out of the decayed fabric. "His top hat don't look too good." Rona said. "Do you think someone's been here?" McCaughlin said. Rockson hoped that any roving scavengers attracted by the body of Run Dutil would not have eaten his notebook as well - some species of high-plains bobcat ate even metal cans
They quickly made for the boulderfield Danik had indicated.
Danik was besides himself with feelings, and his voice was choked up when he said, "Through that second door - that's where my best friend and I stumbled frozen and hungry into the building." The big rocks had shielded it from the blast effects - everything else in these parts was flattened. The building was a two-story affair nestled in the midst of a flat area covered with snow - a parking lot of old. Then they were off on their quest for Eden.
He drew estimated margin-of-error lines too - dotted lines that were as much as ten miles to one side or the other of their new route. Rockson drew some pencil marks on the maps, using the meager angles and sun-elevation heights that Dutil had jotted down. They all chanted an amen in unison, and then went back and spread out their maps, and compared them to the notes from Run Dutil's little pad. Hopefully, they would find the next landmark on the route to Eden, the giant teepee that Danik bad described. They headed southward, guided by Run Dutil's notes in the little pad.
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