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diff --git a/41671-0.txt b/41671-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..cb508b9 --- /dev/null +++ b/41671-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,6133 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 41671 *** + + DOUBLE CHALLENGE + + By Jim Kjelgaard + + + DODD, MEAD & COMPANY + NEW YORK + + 1958 + + © 1957 by Jim Kjelgaard + All rights reserved + + Second Printing + + No part of this book may be reproduced in any form + without permission in writing from the publisher + + Library or Congress Catalog Card Number: 57-5233 + + Printed in the United States of America + by The Cornwall Press, Inc., Cornwall, N.Y. + + + _For Patty Gallagher, and Linda, Pam, Larry and Craig Lewis_ + + + + +CONTENTS + + + 1. THE JOLT 1 + + 2. THE THREAT 17 + + 3. THE CAMP 31 + + 4. THE FUGITIVE 47 + + 5. COON VALLEY 59 + + 6. MESSENGER DOG 75 + + 7. A FLIGHT OF WOODCOCK 91 + + 8. TROUBLE FOR NELS 107 + + 9. A BLACK BEAR CHARGES 121 + + 10. DAMON 137 + + 11. PYTHIAS 153 + + 12. AL'S BETRAYAL 167 + + + * * * * * + +_The characters, incidents and situations in this book are imaginary and +have no relation to any person or actual happening._ + + * * * * * + + + + +DOUBLE CHALLENGE + + + + +1 + +THE JOLT + + +When Ted Harkness reached the summit of Hawkbill, he hurried. He grinned +a little smugly as he did so, for his had been a non-stop climb and most +people who wanted to reach Hawkbill, the highest point in the Mahela and +the only one that wasn't forested, had to rest at least twice. Some, +starting out with firm determination to climb to the top, wavered en +route and never did get there. + +The gorgeous, tricolored collie that had been pacing beside Ted ran a +short ways, snuffled into some brush and disappeared. Presently he came +wagging back, to fall in beside his master, and Ted let a hand rest on +the dog's silken head. A little farther on, the collie pricked up its +ears and Ted stopped in his tracks. + +Just ahead, a fallen tree lay at an angle down the slope. Either rooted +in soft earth or shallowly rooted, it had toppled when its upper +structure became too heavy for its root system to support, and it had +fallen so recently that its leaves had not even started to shrivel. +Sitting nervously on its trunk, suspecting danger was near but lacking +the faintest idea as to where it was, were seven young bobtailed grouse. + +An imp of mischief danced in Ted's eyes. Ruffed grouse were one of the +sportiest and one of the wisest of birds, but they weren't born wise and +experienced. Like everything else, they had to learn and certainly these +grouse weren't old enough to have learned much of anything. Ted said +softly, "Get one, Tammie." + +Very slowly, knowing his game and stalking it as a cat would have +stalked, Tammie slunk forward. Ted watched with great interest. Rarely +could any dog catch a mature ruffed grouse unless it was injured, and it +was questionable as to whether Tammie could take one of these +comparative babies. But he might. + +Tammie neared the log, sprang, and six of the seven young grouse took +fluttering wing. The seventh, clamped in Tammie's slender jaws, +fluttered a moment and was still. Eyes proud, plumed tail waving, Tammie +trotted back to Ted and placed the prize in his master's hand. Ted +complimented him. + +"Good boy, Tammie!" + +He took the young grouse gently, feeling its thumping heart and +understanding its terrified eyes. It wasn't hurt. When teaching Tammie +to catch various birds and animals, Ted had taught him to be +tender-mouthed. After a moment, he tossed his captive into the air and +watched it fly out of sight. + +"Let's go, dog." + +They broke out of the beech woods onto the abutment that rose above. +Almost solid rock, nothing grew here except lichens and, in the cracks, +occasional strips of grass. Bent somewhat like a hawk's bill, it was a +favorite playground for hawks that wanted to test their wings. The view +was unsurpassed. + +Ted sat down on the very tip of Hawkbill and Tammie squatted +companionably beside him. Ted looked at the Mahela. + +For as far as he could see in any direction, forested hills folded into +one another. Spinning Creek sparkled like a silver ribbon that some +giant hand had draped gracefully down a forested valley. The road to +Lorton, from this distance, was a footpath beside the creek. Two miles +down the valley, the green clearing in which lay Carl Thornton's +Crestwood Resort, the only resort in the Mahela and Ted's place of +employment, gleamed like a great emerald. + +Just below, almost at Ted's feet, was the snug log house in which he and +his father lived, surrounded by two hundred acres of forest, except for +small and scattered patches here and there. The Harknesses owned the +last remaining private land in the Mahela. Its only clearings were those +in which the cabin was built and one for a garden patch. Al Harkness +didn't want or need much clearing. He preferred the beech woods to the +cultivated fields, the trap line or woodsman's ax to the plow. + +Behind Hawkbill rose a mountain that, long ago, had been ravaged by +fire. The fire had burned slowly in the lower reaches and the forest +there remained green and virgin. But a little more than halfway up, +probably fanned by sudden, fierce winds, the fire had become an inferno. +Nearly all the trees had been killed and had long since fallen. The +place had grown up into a tangle of blackberry canes, with a few patches +of scrubby aspen here and there. As Ted watched, he saw what he'd hoped +to see. It was only a wisp of motion, a mere flutter in the aspens, and +as soon as Ted spotted it, he lost it. Presently he picked it up again. + +It was an immense deer, a great gray buck. Heavy-bodied, thick-necked, +it would outweigh most big bucks by at least fifty pounds. Massive of +beam, with four perfect points on either side, its antlers were a +hunter's dream come true. It was feeding on something, probably patches +of grass that grew among the briers. Ted's eyes glowed and he continued +to search. + +Presently he saw the second buck, an exact twin of the first. It was +standing quietly in the warm sun, a hundred feet up-slope. + +These were the bucks that were known throughout the Mahela, and far +beyond it, as Damon and Pythias. All who'd seen them thought that either +one, if bagged, would set a new record. But so far, both had carried +their antlers safely through several hunting seasons and from the lazy +way they posed on the mountainside, they might have been two gray steers +in any farmer's pasture. The appearance was deceptive, though, and Ted +knew it. Let anything at all excite either buck's suspicion and they'd +prove their mettle. Ted rubbed Tammie's head reflectively. + +"There they are," he observed, "and one of these days I'm going to hang +one of those heads over our fireplace." + +Tammie yawned and Ted laughed. "Okay, so I'm bragging again. But I'm +still going to do it. Let's go, dog." + +Having seen what he had come to see, he struck back down the mountain, +through the forest of massive, gray-trunked beeches that marched like +rows of orderly soldiers in all directions. Forty-five minutes later he +emerged into his father's clearing. + +No shanty or casual cabin, but a solid log structure built by a master +craftsman, the house was set back against the line of trees. Artfully +designed, it belonged exactly where it was and as it was. The Harkness +house fitted the Mahela as well as did the big beeches against which, +and of which, it was built. With a wing on each side and a covered porch +that jutted forward, somehow the house itself seemed to hold out +welcoming arms. A huge brick chimney told of the big fireplace within. + +To one side was a shed, half of which formed a home for the few chickens +Al Harkness saw fit to keep. There were never fewer than six of these +and never more than ten, just enough to furnish Ted and his father with +the eggs they needed and to provide an occasional fowl for the pot. The +other half of the shed was a storage place for tools. + +Behind the house was another, larger shed which sheltered a gasoline +engine and buzz saw and provided a place for Al to take care of the +furs, wild honey, herbs and other treasures that he brought in from the +Mahela. In front stood the game rack, a cross pole mounted on two heavy +timbers imbedded in the ground. Here hung the deer and occasional black +bear that Al, Ted and their guests brought down. + +To one side lay the garden, big enough to provide all the vegetables the +Harknesses needed but not big enough to make a glaring scar in the beech +woods. As a protection against raiding deer, this garden was surrounded +by an eight-foot fence. The road to Lorton ran about sixty yards in +front of the house but was hidden from it by trees. Beside the road was +the high line with its two wires stretching into the house. There was a +rutted drive that served as an entrance and exit for the battered +pickup truck which was all the car Al Harkness had ever thought he +needed. + +When the boy and dog entered the clearing, Tammie raced ahead and +streaked toward the work shed. Knowing his father would be there or +Tammie wouldn't have gone, Ted strolled up and looked in at the open +door. Sitting on a wooden chair with a broken back, Al Harkness was +using his hunting knife to put the finishing touches on a board over +which, when the time was right, a mink pelt would be stretched. He +looked up and said, "Hi, fella." + +"Hi, Dad. I'm back." + +"Figgered that out all by myself, when your dog came in to say hello." +Tammie was sitting near, watching Al work. For a moment, Ted watched, +too. + +Perfectly-shaped, with exactly the right taper, the board upon which Al +worked did not vary a hundredth of an inch from one side to the other. +Al, who got more money for his furs than other trappers did because he +took better care of them, sliced off another shaving and squinted down +the board. A big man, he seemed as rugged as one of the giant beech +trees. His brows jutted out like stone crags, while the eyes beneath +them were gentle. But they were gentle in the manner of a soft wind that +can become a fierce gale. There was something about him that was more +than faintly akin to the grouse Ted had held in his hand, the rugged +summit of Hawkbill, and the two immense bucks he had seen. Al Harkness +would be out of place anywhere except in the Mahela. + +"What'd you see?" he asked. + +"Damon and Pythias," Ted answered happily. "Anybody who thinks they had +a rack of horns last year should see them now!" + +"Where they hangin' out?" + +"Where they always are at this time of year, in the briers on Burned +Mountain." + +"And where," Al asked, "will they be come huntin' season?" + +"I don't know, but I'm sure going to find out. One or the other of those +heads will hang over our fireplace." + +"For sure now?" Al smiled faintly. + +"If it doesn't, it won't be for lack of trying on my part." + +"One, two, three, four," Al counted rapidly. "One thousand, two +thousand, three thousand, four thousand--You'll have to get at the end +of a long line of hunters who want those heads." + +"I know a lot of hunters have tried for them, but they can be had." + +"Anything can be had," Al observed sagely, "and one nice thing 'bout +young 'uns is they think they can get it. Land either of those bucks and +your picture'll be in every paper in the state. Maybe even in some out +of state." + +"Sure," Ted grinned, "I'll be famous as a deer hunter before I ever am +as a resort owner." + +Finally satisfied with his stretching board, Al laid it carefully in a +corner. He took a blackened pipe from his shirt pocket and an +exquisitely wrought tobacco pouch from his trousers. Made of home-tanned +buckskin, even if the pouch had not borne the stamp of Al's +craftsmanship, it would have been recognized as his. His name, A. +HARKNESS, was stencilled on it. Al filled his pipe, lighted it and +puffed lazy bursts of blue smoke into the air. + +Tammie, who, in common with most dogs, disliked the smell of tobacco, +sneezed and moved farther away. For a moment Al did not speak. Finally +he murmured, "So now you're goin' to be a famous resort owner?" + +"Why, didn't you know?" Ted asked gaily. "The Mahela Lodge will be known +all the way from Lorton to Danzer." + +Al grinned faintly. "That's a real long ways, nigh onto six miles. You +wouldn't change your mind?" + +"About what?" + +"You can still go to college this fall and learn to be a dentist, +lawyer, or anything else you want." + +"Colleges cost money." + +"I have," Al said tartly, "been scarin' up a penny every now and again +since I been changin' your didies. I can still scare up enough to send +you through college, but I mistrust about startin' you in the resort +business. Crestwood cost Carl Thornton more money than I've earned in my +whole life." + +"I don't want to leave the Mahela." + +"Too much of your pappy in you," Al growled, "and not enough of your +mother. I want you to be somethin' besides a woods runner." + +"It isn't that, Dad. I've tried to explain to you. It's the +people--seeing them come in here all tired out, and seeing them go away +rested and refreshed after we've shown them everything we have in the +Mahela. I know college is valuable and I don't look down my nose at +education. But this is my job." + +Al sighed. "I've tried to talk some sense into you. How are you and +Thornton gettin' along?" + +"Dad, Thornton owns Crestwood. I just work there." + +"So that makes Thornton better'n you, huh? You're goin' to be a right +smart passel of time, savin' enough to start your own resort on what +Thornton pays you." + +"I'm getting experience, meeting people, learning how it's done. I'm +really learning the business from the bottom up." + +"Huh?" + +"Nels Anderson and I have been working on the plumbing in Crestwood's +basement," Ted grinned. + +Al frowned. "I'm not foolin'. This is a big job you've set up for +yourself and I don't see how you'll ever get enough money to do it." + +Ted said confidently, "I'll work it out." + +"I wish," Al declared, "that I was eighteen 'stead of forty-nine. I'd be +able to work things out, too. But it's you doin' it. Everybody's got to +live the way they see fit." + +Al picked up another board and began shaping it. Ted took his +pocketknife from his pocket. + +"I'll help you, huh?" + +"Reckon not." Al shook his head. "Sunday's your day off." + +"Let me help. It wouldn't really be work to me." + +"Nope. Even if I did want help, nobody but me can make my stretchin' +boards." + +"Then I'll go get dinner." + +"That's a smart idea." + +With Tammie pacing beside him, Ted went into the house. Everything about +it was solid, strong, heart-warming. The front door was made of oak +boards an inch and a half thick, the windows were set ten inches back in +the log walls, the ample fireplace was of native stone. Obviously it was +the home of an outdoorsman. Two mounted bucks' heads stared from the +same wall, and of the five rugs on the living room floor, three were +bearskins and two were bobcats. Ted's and Al's rifles and shotguns hung +on a rack and there was a glass-enclosed case for fishing tackle. + +But Al Harkness, child of the Mahela though he was, did not spurn modern +conveniences. Electric lights hung from the ceiling. Bottled gas +furnished fuel for the kitchen range and there was a hot water heater. +Al had an electric refrigerator, a large freezer and a tiled sink with +regulation hot and cold faucets. + +Tammie, knowing they'd been out and would go no more, curled up on one +of the bearskin rugs. Ted took a chicken from the refrigerator and began +to stuff it with a dressing made of bread dough, giblets, apples and +seasoning. It was a task he'd done often, and his thoughts wandered. + +Al, who'd never gone beyond the sixth grade, had a near-worshipful +regard for education and he'd insisted that his son be educated. After +graduating with honors from Lorton High, Ted himself realized that +college training would be valuable. But there were other factors +involved. + +With no desire to become a trapper and woodsman like his father, Ted +wanted to stay in the Mahela. It was worthy and wonderful. Wilderness +would always be needed, and, deep inside him, Ted saw himself running a +grand lodge to which guests could come and partake of the benefits +Crestwood's clients certainly found. People who came back to the +wilderness always seemed to be coming back to the source of things and +finding spiritual values that lay only at the source. + +Ted had taken a flunkey's job at Crestwood two days after he graduated. +It did not pay as much as he might have earned elsewhere, but it was +what he wanted and he saved as much as possible. Meanwhile, his dream +continued to grow. The couple of hundred dollars he had put aside was a +mere drop in the bucket compared to the--Ted had never even dared let +himself imagine how many--thousands he needed. But he knew he would find +a way and, above all, he wished that he could make his father know it, +too. + +Ted lighted the oven, put his chicken in to roast and scrubbed potatoes +to be baked in their jackets. He mixed biscuit dough. Since neither he +nor Al cared for dessert, he didn't prepare any. But he did take a +package of carrots and peas from the freezer. He remembered whimsically +that, before they had the freezer, his father used to can dozens of +quarts of vegetables. Dreamily he went about setting the table. As he +did so, he noticed a man in an expensive car driving up the Lorton Road. + +There was a squeal of brakes as he stopped suddenly and a shriek of +tires as he turned up the Harkness drive. He was a short man, and fat, +but his smile was nice, although his eyes were shrewd. + +"Do you own this land?" he demanded. + +Al and Ted told him that they owned it, whereupon the short, fat man +declared breathlessly that a diamond mine had just been discovered in +their back yard and that he, personally, would guarantee them a hundred +thousand dollars for the mining rights! He would give fifty thousand at +once, and it was all right with him if they built a great resort in +front, as long as they didn't interfere with his mine. + +Ted grinned ruefully as his daydream faded and he went to call his +father to dinner. + + * * * * * + +The next morning, the rising sun was only halfway down Hawkbill when Ted +walked to his job at Crestwood. His heart lifted, as it always did when +he saw the place. He liked to imagine that he owned it. + +Semi-luxurious Crestwood, the only resort in the Mahela, had +accommodations for sixty guests under normal conditions and perhaps +ninety if they were crowded in. It was well patronized in fishing +season, had a sprinkling of guests who wanted to do nothing save enjoy +the out of doors when there was neither hunting nor fishing, filled up +again when the small game season started and was packed in the deer +season for which the Mahela was famous. While deer hunting was on, +Thornton turned away twice as many guests as he could accommodate. +Afterwards, Crestwood was closed until fishing season opened again. + +At the far end of a spacious clearing, set back against the beeches and +blending very well with the background, Crestwood's main lodge was a big +log building that contained a dining hall, a kitchen, a lounge, a game +room, an office for Thornton, quarters for the help and rooms for guests +who preferred to remain in the lodge. To one side were ten neat log +cabins that accommodated four guests each in normal times and six during +deer season. The utility rooms and outbuildings were behind the main +lodge and hidden by it and the wide driveway was of crushed stone. + +"Hi, Ted!" + +Ted turned to wait for middle-aged Nels Anderson, his co-flunkey at +Crestwood. Neither brilliant nor subtle, but always gentle, Nels had +been taught by a lifetime of hard knocks to appreciate the good things +that came his way, and, as far as Nels was concerned, the best thing +that had ever come his way was his job at Crestwood. Always a hewer of +wood and a drawer of water, the most Nels asked was to be paid with +reasonable regularity for his hewing and drawing. He smiled a slow +Scandinavian smile as Ted returned his greeting. + +"Good morning, Nels. How are you feeling?" + +"Goot. And you?" + +"First rate. Shall we start earning our wages?" + +"Yah. You go down? Or me?" + +"I'll go. You catch the pipe." + +They entered the lodge. Ted ducked into Crestwood's gloomy basement, +turned on the light and caught up a length of pipe. He and Nels were +running water to some of the upstairs rooms. He maneuvered the pipe +through an already drilled hole and waited for his companion to catch it +and stab it into an elbow. + +Nothing happened and Ted sighed resignedly. Nels was one of those rare +people who know enough about many things to do a passable job. He could +run water pipes and wires, build a stone wall, shingle a roof, tend a +sick cow or horse, fell trees, construct a root cellar and do well any +of a few dozen more things that might need doing. But he was apt to get +sidetracked, in which event he needed a while to wake up. Obviously he +was sidetracked now. Then the door opened and Nels stood behind Ted. + +"The boss, he wants to see you." + +"What's he want?" + +"He forgot to say." + +"Well--" + +"He say right now." + +"Will you take this pipe?" + +"Oh! Yah, I take it." + +Nels took the pipe and Ted went back into the lobby. He knocked on the +office door, and Carl Thornton opened it. + +"Come on in, Ted." + +The boy stepped into the spacious office. The floor was covered with a +thick carpet. At one side was a mahogany desk upon which stood a +typewriter. Over it were hung bookshelves. There were four cushioned +chairs and a satiny davenport upon which the owner usually slept. In a +wall rack were Thornton's high-powered rifle and a belt full of his +distinctive, brass-jacketed, hand-loaded shells. Ted turned to face his +employer. + +In his late thirties, Thornton was not slightly built. But there was +about him an air of slightness that was accentuated by his quick +movements. Thinning blond hair was artfully combed to hide a bald spot. +His eyes were pale blue, almost icy blue, behind gold-rimmed glasses. +The ghost of a smile haunted his lips. He had a flair for conversation +that always made it appear as though nothing anyone else could say was +nearly as important as what he had to offer. + +"I've been watching your work, Ted, and I like it." + +"Thanks, Mr. Thornton." + +"There'll be a better job pretty soon; Crestwood's going to expand." + +Ted's heart leaped. This was what he'd always wanted. "Thank you." + +"A good man," Thornton said, "is not easily come by and I've learned the +value of one. That's why I'm putting you on a special job right now." + +"You are?" Ted's voice quivered eagerly. + +"Yes. You're a pretty good deer hunter, aren't you?" + +"I--I guess so." + +"You know of those two bucks they call Damon and Pythias?" + +"Everyone does." + +Thornton said, "I want them." + +"You--?" + +"That's right. With those two heads on the wall--" Thornton shrugged. +"Crestwood would be mentioned in every paper in the state. If they're +really records, there probably would be national publicity. In any +event, they'll help bring guests here." + +"But--Nobody has even managed to get near those two bucks in hunting +season." + +Thornton looked shrewdly at him. "But before the season?" + +"You mean?" + +"That's just what I mean. Those two bucks don't go into hiding until +after hunters take to the woods. I'm pretty sure that anyone who knew +what he was doing could get both of them before the season opened. How +about it?" + +Ted said reluctantly, "It might be done." + +"Good! Take all the time you need and I'll leave the details up to you. +If you're caught, of course you'll keep your mouth shut and I'll pay the +fine. But I think you'll know how to go about it without getting caught. +Deliver both bucks to Crestwood--we'll arrange those details after you +get them--and thereafter it's up to me. Good luck." + +Ted heard himself saying, "No, Mr. Thornton." + +Thornton looked puzzled. "I don't understand." + +"I can't do it." + +"I've already told you that I'll pay your fine if you're caught." + +"It isn't that." + +"Then what is it? Does it make any difference if those bucks are shot +now or six weeks from now?" + +"Yes." + +"Why?" + +"Getting them now would be violating the law." + +"Who doesn't violate the law? Considering the mass of laws we have, few +people can live a single day without, intentionally or otherwise, +running afoul of them. Have you ever looked up some of the crackpot +laws, such as the one which states that, on Sunday, in this state, no +horse shall wear other than a plain black harness?" + +"It's not that." + +"Ted, do you know anyone at all in the Mahela who lives up to the full +letter of the game laws? Do you know anyone who doesn't take what he +wants when he wants it, in season or out?" + +"Yes." + +"Who?" + +"My father and I." + +There was an ominous silence. Thornton broke it. + +"It seems that I've misjudged you." + +"It seems you have!" Ted's anger was rising. "I'll leave now!" + + + + +2 + +THE THREAT + + +Tramping along the Lorton Road toward his father's house, Ted told +himself that he had been a complete fool. With a start in the only +business that interested him, he had sacrificed everything for what +suddenly seemed a trivial reason. + +Carl Thornton had spoken the truth. Those who lived in the Mahela +thought that just living there gave them a proprietary interest in the +game and fish that shared the wilderness with them. But, except for +Smoky Delbert, a notorious poacher who hunted and fished for the market, +most dwellers in the Mahela confined their poaching to killing a deer +when they felt like having venison or catching a mess of trout when they +thought they needed some fish for dinner. They broke the law, but as far +as Ted knew, their chances of going to Heaven when they died were fully +as good as his. They weren't sinners. + +Half inclined to turn back and tell Thornton he'd reconsidered, still +Ted went on. It wouldn't be easy, but definitely it would be possible to +shoot both of the great bucks before the hunters who invaded the Mahela +when the season opened sent them into hiding. If Ted got them, or even +promised to try to get them, he would be back in Thornton's good graces. + +"If I was smart," he told himself, "I'd tell Thornton I was hunting +those bucks and not get either." + +He played with the tempting thought, then put it behind him and walked +on. Nobody who called himself a man took another man's pay for doing a +job and then failed to do it. Ted asked himself questions and tried to +provide his own answers. + +Was he afraid of Loring Blade, the game warden? He didn't think so. The +Mahela was a big country and the warden could not be everywhere at once. +The chances were very good that anyone who knew what he was doing could +get both bucks safely to Crestwood, where they became Thornton's +responsibility. Besides, Thornton had said he'd pay the fine if Ted were +caught. + +Did he shrink from breaking the law? Yes, of course. At the same time he +knew positively that if he and his father were in desperate straits, if +they had no food and no other means of getting any, he'd shoot deer or +any other edible game he could find, regardless of whether it was in +season or out. + +There seemed to be something else involved and Ted could find no precise +bracket in which it fitted. It concerned the grouse he'd held in his +hand, the cool morning breeze, the view from Hawkbill, his +father--everything Ted loved and held dear. + +His mind was a whirlpool in which nothing at all was clear except that +he could not shoot the two bucks for Thornton. It would be as easy to +shoot Tammie--his lips formed a sick grin at that thought! Yesterday his +dreams had been bright as bubbles in the sun. Today all the bubbles +were burst. There wasn't the faintest possibility of getting a job at +another resort for the simple reason that there was no other resort. + +Of course, if he left the Mahela--But he couldn't do that either. + +Ted was a half mile from their house when he saw Al's tobacco pouch +lying beside the road. He picked it up and put it in his pocket. +Obviously his father had been here--probably he'd been scouting mink +sign along Spinning Creek and had walked back up the road--and he was +forever losing his pouch. But somehow somebody always found it and +brought it back to him. + +Ted tried to put a spring in his step and a cheerful smile on his lips. +A man faced up to his own troubles and did not inflict them on other +people. He tried to whistle and succeeded only in hissing. + +He was a hundred yards from the house when Tammie, who'd caught his +scent, hurried to meet him. Sleek fur rippling and short ears jiggling, +he advanced at the collie's lope, which seems so restrained and is so +incredibly fast. Tammie came to a graceful halt in front of Ted and +looked at him with dancing eyes. + +"Hi, dog! Hi, Tammie!" Ted ruffled his head with a gentle hand as Tammie +fell in beside him. Plucking the tobacco pouch from his pocket, he gave +it to the collie. "Here. Take it to Al." + +The tobacco pouch dangling by its drawstrings, Tammie streaked up the +road. Disdaining the drive leading into the house, he cut through the +woods and disappeared. Ted squared his shoulders, tried again to +whistle--and succeeded. His father must be home. When Ted was working +and Al went out, Tammie always went with him. + +Ted turned up the drive and was halfway to the house when Tammie came +flying back to meet him. They went to the shed in the rear; Al would be +working. Ted peered through the open door and his father, shaping +another stretching board, glanced up to greet him. + +"Hi, Ted!" + +"Hello, dad!" + +"No work today?" + +"That's right." + +Al bent his head to hide the question in his eyes. Something had +happened and he knew it. His voice was a little too casual as he said, +"Figgered when Tammie fetched my tobacco pouch that he'd made up his +mind to go 'round pickin' up after me." + +"No, I found it beside the road and sent Tammie with it. You should put +a string on that pouch and tie it to your britches." + +"Guess I'd ought. Tammie and me took a whirl down the crick to look for +mink sign. Must of lost my pouch on the way back." + +"Find any sign?" + +"There'll be mink on the crick this year. I can take a string of pelts +and leave enough so there'll also be mink next year." + +"Now that's just swell!" Ted bit his tongue. Wanting to keep his +troubles to himself by appearing gay and careless, he'd leaned too far +in that direction and been over-emphatic. Al raised his head and +searched his son's face with wonderfully gentle eyes. + +"Want to tell me?" + +"Tell you what?" + +"What happened to you." + +"Oh," Ted forced what he tried to make a casual laugh, "Thornton fired +me." + +Al remained calm. "He what?" + +"Thornton gave me the gate, the bounce act, ye olde heave-ho. He said, +in short, that I was never to darken his kitchen towels again." + +Al said, "Come off it, Ted." + +Suddenly Ted's misery and heartbreak were too great a burden to bear +alone. He fought to keep his voice from quavering and his lower lip from +trembling. + +"That's right. I've been fired." + +"Want to tell me why?" Al did not raise his voice. + +"I--I wouldn't shoot Damon and Pythias for Thornton." + +Al arched surprised brows. "Why's he want those two bucks?" + +"He's going to expand Crestwood. He said that if he had one or both of +those heads to put on the wall, it would be written up in every paper in +the state. He said they'd help bring guests." + +"Boy, seems to me like you went off half-cocked." + +"What do you mean?" + +"Thornton's takin' a lot for granted to think that you, or anyone, could +get either one of those bucks. But if you wanted to hunt 'em, and if you +did get one, 'twould do no harm to give it to him. 'Twould save your job +for you." + +"That would have been different," Ted said wryly, "but that wasn't what +he asked. He wants both bucks _before_ the season opens." + +"So?" Al was almost purring. "And you turned him down?" + +"That's right." + +"You don't aim to change your mind?" + +"No." + +"Not even to get your job back?" + +"Not even for that." + +"You're sure now?" + +"I'm sure." + +"That bein' the case," Al said, rising, "I think I'll go down to +Crestwood and have a little talk with Mr. Thornton. You stay here with +Tammie." + + * * * * * + +When Al Harkness climbed into his old pickup truck and pressed the +starter, his thoughts went back thirty-six years. The Mahela had been +young then, and he'd been young, and that, he'd told himself a thousand +times since, was probably the reason why he'd also been blind. It was +not that he'd lacked eyes, very keen eyes that could detect the skulking +deer in its copse, the grouse in its thicket and the rabbit in its set. +But he hadn't seen clearly what was right before his eyes. + +At that time, the road to Lorton had been a mud track in spring and +fall, a dusty trace in summer and impassable in winter. Nobody had +needed anything better. The only car even near the Mahela belonged to +Judge Brimhall, of Lorton, and excitement ran at fever pitch when the +respected judge drove his vehicle to Danzer, seven whole miles, without +breaking down even once! + +Lorton and the Mahela itself had been almost as far apart as Lorton and +New York were now. Even when the road was good, a traveler had needed a +whole day to go the fifteen miles to town and back. Whoever had +extensive business in Lorton might better figure on two days for the +round trip. The dwellers in the woods had been inclined to sneer at the +town folk as sissified and, in turn, were sneered at for being hicks. + +There'd been seven families in the wilderness; the Harknesses, the +Delberts, two families of Staceys and three of Crawfords. All of them +had gardens, a milk cow, a few chickens, a couple of pigs and a team of +horses or mules. But all this was only secondary--the Mahela itself +fulfilled most of their wants. It was a great, inexhaustible larder, +provided by a benign Providence who had foreseen that men would rather +hunt than work. Al remembered some of the hunts. His father, George +Stacey and Tom Crawford had shot thirty-three deer in one day and sold +them all in Lorton. Two days later, they shot twenty-nine more. + +There weren't that many deer when Al came of an age to hunt. His elders +were at a loss to explain the scarcity, unless some mysterious plague +had come among the animals. Never once did they think of themselves and +their indiscriminate, year-round slaughter as the "plague." On Al's +thirteenth birthday, he shot a buck and a doe. They were the last deer +taken in the Mahela for the next thirteen years. + +It wasn't an inexhaustible larder at all, but just a place that could be +depleted by always thoughtless and often vicious greed. Then had come +the change. + +The Game Department, the Lorton paper announced, had purchased deer from +a state that still had some. In the hope that they'd multiply and +rebuild the vast herds that had once roamed there, twenty of them were +to be released in the Mahela. There was to be no hunting at all until +such time as there were sufficient deer to warrant a hunt, and game +wardens were to enforce that regulation. + +It hadn't been easy. Bitterly jealous of what they considered their +vested rights, the natives of the Mahela had resisted the game wardens. +There had been quarrels and even a couple of shootings. But the wardens +had won out and the deer had come back. + +There were as many as there'd ever been and perhaps more. Protected by +strict and sane laws, they flourished. Seven families had all but +exterminated the Mahela deer. Now four thousand properly regulated +hunters a year couldn't do it, and this Al Harkness had seen. + +He thought of the families--still the Harknesses, the Delberts, the +Crawfords and the Staceys, who lived in the Mahela. With the exception +of Al and Ted, who observed the game laws to the letter, most of them +took more than their share of the Mahela's wildlife. Smoky Delbert was +an especially vicious poacher who belonged, and one day would land, in +jail. But, with game wardens on constant patrol, even Smoky could no +longer indulge in wholesale slaughter. + +There was, Al had always conceded, some excuse for the Crawfords and the +Staceys. Al was the only Mahelaite who'd held on to the entire family +acreage. Glad to raise money any way he could, the Staceys and Crawfords +had sold theirs, all but a homesite and garden patch, and the proceeds +were long since exhausted. Most of the men worked at day labor and their +employment was never certain. Always struggling, there were times when +they would have no meat at all if they did not shoot an occasional deer. +That condition would not endure. Since all the younger people left the +Mahela, preferably for some brightly lighted city, as soon as they +possibly could, the Staceys and Crawfords who remained were not going to +last forever. + +But if there was some excuse for them, there was none whatever for Carl +Thornton. Comparatively wealthy, certainly he was in no danger of going +hungry. Educated, he must understand what conservation meant. Supposedly +intelligent, he must know that nobody at all could take what he wanted +simply because he felt like taking it, or for his own advantage, and +still hope to leave enough for others and for future generations. Al +braked to a halt in Crestwood's drive and entered the lodge. + +Jules Crowley, Thornton's pale-faced clerk, stepped in front of him. +"You can't come in here!" + +Al said, "Oh yes I can." + +He moved around Jules, jerked the office door open and closed it behind +him. Thornton was sitting at his desk, going over some papers. He looked +up. Al hesitated. Now that he was here, just what was he supposed to do? +It would be silly to threaten Carl Thornton, and how could he report him +to the game warden when he had broken no law? Al felt a little foolish +and Thornton's voice was as cold as his eyes when he spoke. + +"What do you want?" + +"You fired Ted?" + +"That's right." + +"What for?" + +"Inefficiency." + +"Ted told me different. He told me you fired him because he wouldn't +shoot those two big bucks for you." + +"He's a liar." + +Al stepped to the desk, twined his right hand in Thornton's lapel, +lifted him to his feet and used his left hand to slap both Thornton's +cheeks. Then he let the resort owner slump back into the chair and +turned on his heel. + +"For callin' Ted a liar," he said. + +He stalked out, knowing as he did so that he had made a deadly enemy but +not caring. Thornton owned Crestwood. But he was still a little man and +sooner or later little men stumbled over big problems. As Al climbed +back into the pickup, he almost forgot Thornton. He had something more +important to occupy his thoughts. + +He had hoped mightily that, after he finished High School, Ted would go +on to college. It didn't matter what he studied there as long as it was +something; a Harkness would go out of the Mahela to become a man of +parts. But Ted had not only wanted to stay in the Mahela, but also to +start a resort there, and for almost the first time in his life Al faced +a problem to which he saw no solution. + +An expert woodsman, he earned a comfortable income. Since his own wants +were simple, there would certainly be enough left over to pay Ted's +college expenses. But Al couldn't even imagine the vast sum of money +needed to start a resort. He had told the truth when he said Crestwood +cost Thornton more than he'd earned in his whole life. + +Al fell back on an idea that he himself had been mulling over. Hunters +and fishermen were a varied breed, with varying tastes. Some preferred +the comforts of Crestwood, but every season numbers of them hauled +trailers into the Mahela or set up tents there and they did so because +they liked that way of hunting or fishing. Not all of them wanted the +same things and not all cared to be crowded. + +Driving back into his own yard, Al got out of the pickup and faced his +son serenely. But seeing Ted's uncertain hand fall to Tammie's head, he +grinned inwardly. The boy turned to Tammie whenever he was worried or at +a loss. + +"Did you see Thornton?" Ted's voice was too casual. + +"I saw him." + +"Did--?" + +"No," Al told him gently. "I didn't. He's still alive and, as far as I'm +concerned, he can stay that way. Ted, let's go up to Beech Bottom." + +"Swell!" + +Ted and Tammie got into the pickup and Al drove. He did not speak +because he was thinking too busily to talk. A father, if he was worthy +of being a father, showed his children the right path. But it was always +better if he could guide them into doing their own thinking, instead of +leading them along the path--and sometimes that called for subtle +measures. + +Two miles up the road, Al came to a clearing. A little less than an +acre, it was a jungle of yellow-topped golden rod. Here and there a +milkweed raised its spear-shaft stem and showed its silk-filled pods to +all who passed. In the center was an old building with all the windows +broken and part of the roof fallen in. Sun, wind, rain and snow had +exercised their own artistry on the unpainted boards and tinted them a +delicate shade which no brush could possibly achieve. There was a little +patch of summer apples and two small bucks, stretching their necks to +get the wormy fruit, moved reluctantly away when the truck stopped. + +Al got out of the truck and Ted and Tammie alighted beside him. Al +looked at the tumble-down building. + +"My gosh! It ain't possible!" + +"What isn't?" + +Al grinned ruefully, "Seems like yesterday I worked here." + +"You worked at the old Hawley logging camp?" + +"Yep. Chore boy. Got up at four every mornin' to feed and curry the +horses so they'd be ready to go into the woods. You wouldn't think +fifteen men, or fourteen men and a boy, ate and slept in that old house, +would you?" + +"It's big enough." + +"By gosh! Seems like a person gets born, takes six breaths and gets old. +That old house is still good, though. Those boards are really seasoned +and I bet they last another hundred years." + +Ted asked without much interest, "What happened?" + +"Old Man Hawley sold everything 'cept that little patch when the state +took over and made the Mahela into state forest. Jud, his son, was goin' +to make a huntin' camp of it. But he never did and he never will. Bet +you could buy the works for a hundred and fifty dollars." + +Ted almost yelled, "Dad!" + +"What's the matter? Bee sting you?" + +"No, but something else did! Dad, I'm going to buy it!" + +"That?" Al looked puzzled. + +"Don't you see?" Ted's eyes were shining and Al knew his heart was +singing. "With more and more people coming into the Mahela every year, +they must have more places to stay. I'm going to tear this house down +and build a camp right here! Bet it'll rent five months out of the +year!" + +"Well, I'll be jugged!" Al hoped Ted couldn't interpret his smile. "That +_is_ an idea!" + +"We'll buy them all!" Ted bubbled, "with the money you were going to use +to send me to college! There're plenty of these small plots in the +Mahela and nobody else wants them! They can be had cheaply! Dad, it can +be done that way!" + +"By gosh, Ted, it might! But it'll take a while." + +"I know but--What's Tammie barking at?" + +"One way to find out is to go see." + +Off in the goldenrod, Tammie barked again. They made their way to him +and found him peering into a shallow little stream, Tumbling Run, that +wound out of the beeches, crossed the clearing and hurried back into the +beeches, on its way to meet Spinning Creek. In the middle of the run, a +small gray raccoon with a trap on its left front paw did not even glance +up. It had fought the trap fiercely and now was too spent and too weary +to fight anything. + +Al's words were almost an explosion. "Smoky Delbert!" + +He jumped down into the creek, encircled the little raccoon's neck with +an expert hand and used his free hand to depress the trap spring. Free, +but not quite believing it, the little animal went exactly as far as the +trap chain had previously let him go and then ventured two inches +farther. Sure at last that the miracle had happened, he scuttled into +the goldenrod. Al jerked the trap loose from its anchor. + +"Let's go, Ted." + +"Where?" + +"You want to buy this place. We'll go into Lorton and see Jud Hawley. +But on the way, we'll have a little palaver with Smoky." + +A half hour later, Al drove his pickup into the Delbert yard, to find +another truck there ahead of him. It belonged to Loring Blade, the +warden, who was talking with Smoky. He turned to nod at Al and Ted. + +"Hi!" + +Al said, "I won't be but a minute, Lorin'." He held the steel trap out +to Smoky Delbert. "This yours?" + +Smoky looked at him through insolent, half-closed eyes. "Nope." + +"You lie in your teeth! I've told you before not to set traps before +furs are prime. I'm tellin' you again and this is the last time." + +"What goes on?" Blade demanded. + +"Nothin' you can help, Lorin'. Smoky, if I find you poachin' in the +Mahela once more, I'm goin' to beat you within an inch of your life!" + +"You got any ideas along that line," Smoky remained insolent, "come +shootin'." + +Al said, "I can do that, too!" + + + + +3 + +THE CAMP + + +Sprawled on his favorite bearskin in the Harkness living room, Tammie +dreamed a dog's good dreams and his paws twitched with excitement as he +lived again some old adventure. Al, sitting in front of the fireplace, +studied the bed of glowing coals within it as though they were as +fascinating as the first coals he had ever seen. Sitting at the table +with a pen in his hand, a pile of fresh paper on one side and a pile of +crumpled sheets on the other, Ted was busy writing. + +He laid the pen down, picked up what he had just written and frowned +over it. Making a motion to crumple this paper too, he thought better of +it and called, "How's this, Dad? 'For Rent, furnished camp in the +Mahela. Bunks for eight. Forty-five dollars a week in small game season, +sixty in deer season. Available for season. Ted Harkness, R.D. 2, +Lorton.'" + +Al shrugged. "Says 'bout everythin' you got to say." + +"I don't know." Ted's frown deepened. "'Bunks for eight,' it says. If a +bunch of deer hunters take the place, they may bring twelve or sixteen. +Do you think I should say, 'Bring extra cots for more than eight?'" + +"Mighty important point," Al said gravely, "but do you figure you got to +throw out that much sign? + +"If I was readin' that and wanted to rent a camp and saw 'bunks for +eight,' I'd calc'late that there wasn't bunks for ten or sixteen. I'd +figger that, if I brought more than eight, I'd best bring somethin' for +'em to sleep on." + +"If I say 'accommodations for eight,' and a bigger party wanted to take +the camp, they might pass it up." + +"'Bunks' is the word," Al pronounced. "Why it's pra'tically liter-choor. +City people are always gettin' accommodations. Might help rent your camp +if they knew they was goin' to sleep on bunks." + +"That's a point," Ted agreed. He continued to frown thoughtfully. "Now +this 'available for season,' do you think I should say at ten per cent +discount?" + +"Nope." + +"But doesn't everybody do that?" + +"Everybody 'cept horse traders, and you can always do your horse tradin' +when and if you have to. But I don't think you're goin' to rent for the +season." + +"Why not?" + +Al shrugged. "Figger it out by yourself. How many city people can take a +whole season just to go huntin'? Most they get is a couple of weeks or +so." + +"That's right, too. Do you think I should say, 'deer and small game +abundant'?" + +"I wouldn't. Nobody'd come into the Mahela 'thout havin' some idea they +could find game here and there's another point." + +"What's that?" + +"You're tryin' to build up a business, and the more repeat business you +can get, the less it'll cost to get it. Promise too much and you might +drive business away. Some people, readin' about over-plenty game, might +expect a flock of grouse behind every tree and a ten-point buck in every +swale and be mad if they didn't find it. Let 'em do their own lookin'." + +"I was thinking of hiring out as a guide." + +"Wouldn't put that in either. Some people want guides and some don't. +Anybody who rents your camp and wants a guide will ask you where to find +one. Then you can dicker." + +"Do you think I'm asking too much money?" + +"Nope. Chances are that you won't get less than six in any party. Split +the cost amongst 'em and it won't break any one. Your prices are fair." + +Ted lost himself in his literary effort. "It doesn't seem very +forceful." + +"Land o'goshen!" Al's eyes glinted with amusement. "You're tryin' to get +information across, not writin' a speech! How many papers you crumpled +so far?" + +"Well," Ted looked at the pile of discarded papers beside him and +grinned, "quite a few. You really think this is all right?" + +"A masterpiece," Al answered solemnly. "Mail it afore you change your +mind again." + +Ted folded his paper, wrote a short letter to the effect that he wanted +his ad to run in the classified section, wrote a check, put all three in +an envelope and addressed it to a leading daily newspaper in a city from +which the Mahela drew numerous hunters. Tammie trotted beside him as he +ran down to the mailbox, put his letter in and raised the red flag to +let Bill Parker, their rural carrier, know there was mail to pick up. +He ran back to the house. + +_"Br-r!_ It's cold!" + +"The jackets in the closet," Al observed drily, "are not there because +they look pretty." + +Ted said meekly, "Yes, Dad." + +He re-seated himself at the table and took up his pen. The first hunting +season, for woodcock, opened next week. Two weeks later, squirrels, +cottontails and ruffed grouse became legal game and the season ran for a +month. During the last week of small game season, black bears could be +shot. Then everything else was closed and hunting wound up with the +three-week deer season. + +Ted calculated carefully. There were six weeks of the small game season. +If he rented his camp throughout at forty-five dollars a week, it would +give him a net return of two hundred and seventy dollars. Three weeks of +deer season would add another hundred and eighty, or a total of four +hundred and fifty. Ted consulted his expense records. + +Jud Hawley had sold them the land with the old building on it for a +hundred and fifty dollars and Al and Ted had torn down the old building +and rebuilt it. Just the same, expenses had mounted with incredible +speed. Al had all the tools, but it was necessary to buy nails. The +window casings Al had fashioned, but the glass that went into them cost +money. They'd had to buy a secondhand cooking range and a heating stove +and enough table and cooking ware to serve many people. Bedding had been +an expensive item, and composition shingles for both the roof and outer +walls had cost a great deal. + +Economizing as much as possible and hiring no labor, the camp had still +cost six hundred and fifteen dollars. However, the old building had +been a huge place and there was enough lumber left over to build +another, smaller camp as soon as they acquired another building site. +Ted nibbled the end of his pen. + +"We'll be in the clear on this one before next hunting season; then +everything it brings in will be pure gravy." + +"How do you figger it?" + +"There's six weeks of small game hunting and three of deer season. If +the camp is rented continuously, it will bring in four hundred and fifty +dollars. Then, when fishing opens--" + +"If," Al broke in, "is a right fancy word. Might be a good idea to rent +your camp 'fore you spend the rent money." + +"It might at that," Ted said meekly, "and I forgot to charge against it +the fifteen dollars the ad's costing." + +"Charge it," Al advised, "and get this one thing straight. There's no +such thing as 'pure gravy.' What a body gets, he works for. What he +don't work for, he don't get. You started the ball rollin', but it will +stop if you don't keep it rollin'." + +"What do you suggest I do?" + +"Just what you are doin', but don't get cocky about it. You've made a +start, but it's a small start that stacks up against a big job. See how +things work out. If they come 'round like I think they will, this camp +will make money. But it won't be your money. It belongs to the job +you've set yourself. Build another camp--and another and another, until +you've got as many as you can handle. Go on from there." + +"Go on?" + +"You started out," Al reminded him, "to own a place like Crestwood." + +"That will take years!" + +"Did you expect to get it in a week?" + +"Well--No." + +"Good, on account you won't. You'll need years. Then, after you finally +get what you want, or somethin' close to it, all the people who set +'round on their hunkers while you worked will still be settin' 'round +tellin' each other how lucky you are." + +Ted grinned, then yawned and stretched. "Gosh! All this heavy +philosophy's making me tired!" + +"What do you think your bed's for?" + +"You get the best ideas!" + +"Oh, I'm the smart one!" Al smiled and filled his pipe. "Catch yourself +some shut-eye. There's work to be done come mornin'." + + * * * * * + +The next morning, with Al driving and Tammie on the floor in front of +Ted, they started back toward the camp they had built. The lazy sun, +reluctant to get out of bed, made a splash of gold only on the very tip +of Hawkbill. The rest of the wilderness was a deep-shadowed green, with +overtones of gray. A doe danced across the road in front of them and +stopped to look back over her shoulder at the passing pickup. They saw +two more does, then a buck--and Al stepped suddenly on the gas. + +Spurting ahead, the old truck still missed by a wide margin a lean +coyote that was running a scant twenty feet behind the buck. Tammie rose +and bristled. Ted held him down. The collie was fast, but nothing except +a greyhound was fast enough to catch a coyote. Visible for only fleeting +seconds, this one disappeared in the forest. Failing to run the coyote +down, Al stopped his truck. + +"Doggone! Of all times to be without a rifle!" + +"It looked to me as though he was chasing that buck," Ted observed. + +Al shook his head. "Just followin' it; one coyote couldn't kill a grown +buck. But he can and will do a lot of damage 'mongst the small game. +I'll have to nail that critter's scalp to the wall soon's I can. Let's +have a look." + +They got out and examined the tracks in the dusty road. Al made careful +observations of his own. He went a little ways into the forest and came +back to the truck. + +"Looks like he's been crossin' here quite a few times. I'll fetch the +rifle tomorrow mornin', on the chanst I'll nail him. If I don't, I'd +best string some traps. Can't have coyotes in the Mahela." + +"We sure can't." + +Without completely understanding his father's bitter lesson--seeing his +beloved wilderness all but denuded of game by thoughtless or greedy +hunters and built back through sound conversation--Ted knew only that Al +had an almost ferocious hatred for destructive elements wherever they +were found. Therefore, the coyote could not be tolerated. Ted's eyes +roved up Hawkbill, and the cool wind felt good on his face. When they +mounted a hill, he strove for and caught a glimpse of the burned +mountain behind Hawkbill. Al saw and interpreted his look. + +"They're there all right, and it's my bet they'll be there after deer +season ends." + +"Not both of 'em," Ted asserted. "I'm going to nail one or the other." + +"Which one you aim to get? Damon? Or Pythias?" + +"Either will satisfy. How do you tell 'em apart?" + +"I imagine there'd be some small differences if a man was close. But on +a far look, I can't tell which is which. They're alike as two peas in a +pod. All I'm sure of is that I never saw bigger bucks." + +Ted said smugly, "Either should be as much advertising for the +Harknesses as it could be for Crestwood." + +"Hadn't you ought to get it first?" Al asked wryly. "Well, here we are +again." + +To the vast delight and relief of a colony of chipmunks that were snugly +at home beneath it, the Harknesses had built their new camp on the site +of the old. However, they had done so to save hauling lumber and because +the old foundation was so solid; any benefits accruing to the chipmunks +were merely incidental. The new camp was a one-story structure, +twenty-six feet long by eighteen wide. + +The exterior, if less than magnificent, did promise comfort. The windows +were small, consisting of four panes each, and set well back in their +casings. Two tin chimneys, one for each stove, protruded well above the +roof. The shingled walls and roof gave assurance that no cold winds +could creep in and there was a covered porch. Probably not so much as +one hunter would ever sit on it, but it did provide a place for storing +wood and keeping it dry. The surrounding goldenrod had been crushed and +scattered and the truck had made its own path in. + +Al drew up in front of the door and Tammie leaped out to sniff at the +various cracks and crevices the chipmunks used in their comings and +goings. Al and Ted went inside. + +In the center of the one room, not too close to the heating stove, was a +long wooden table, with benches on either side. Convenient to it was a +built-in cupboard, one end of which contained tableware and dishes. +Running along the wall, the other half of the cupboard held skillets, +pans and kettles. Nearby was the cooking stove, with cabinets for food +storage and a sturdy table for the cook's use. At the other end of the +building, as far as possible from both stoves, were the bunks. Scattered +along the walls were two secondhand davenports and five chairs that had +seen their best days but would still offer comfort to anyone who'd been +hiking the hills all day. + +Al surveyed the place critically. "Not much like Crestwood." + +Ted teased, "It is kind of ramshackle." + +"Ramshackle!" Al bristled. "Why you young whipper-snapper! This is as +good-built a camp as--" + +"There you are!" Ted grinned. "If you had a choice, would you stay here +or at Crestwood?" + +"Why here," Al grumbled. "I never did go for that fancy stuff." + +"And neither do a lot of other hunters. When they go out, they'd as soon +be in the woods. Besides, the prices here aren't much like Crestwood's, +either. In deer season, Thornton's cheapest room is fifteen dollars a +day. We could rent twenty camps like this if we had 'em." + +"And we won't even rent this'n 'thout we finish it. Now let's do some +figgerin'." + +At the kitchen end of the camp, they had built a wooden stand and in it +placed the tub from a large kitchen sink. There was an overflow pipe +that led to a septic tank beneath the floor of the camp itself; thus it +wouldn't freeze. Al scratched his head. + +"My figgerin's all done." + +"It is?" + +"Yup, and it figgers out the same's it always does. If we want water in +here, we'll have to work to put it in. Get your boots on." + +"Yes, boss." + +Ted donned rubber boots and they went out. Tammie, who had been having +an exciting time trying to catch a chipmunk that insisted on poking its +nose out of a crevice, wagged his tail and ran to join them. A doe that +had come to the apple trees stamped an apprehensive foot and drifted +slowly into the forest. The two workers took a pick and shovel from the +truck, and Al led the way to a little knoll. + +On the very top of the knoll was a seepage of water that sent a tricklet +into Tumbling Run. Green grass, rather than goldenrod, lined its length +and at no place was the runlet more than four inches wide or two deep. +Never in Al's memory had it been more or less; the spring provided a +constant flow. Even in coldest weather, the runlet never froze, and its +banks were always free of snow. It was a favorite drinking place for +deer that found other water icebound. + +Al asked, "Can you think of any more excuses for deep thinkin'?" + +"Not even one." + +"Me neither," Al said mournfully, "so I guess we can start the workin' +part. Do you want the pick or the shovel?" + +"Is there a choice?" + +"Could be, but here's the shovel and you might as well dig." + +Ted sunk his shovel point deep into the wet earth and scooped out a +chunk of soggy earth. Ice-cold, muddy water at once filled the hole and +Ted scooped again. He made a wry face. + +"This is like shoveling glue!" + +"Case you ever get a job in a glue factory, you'll know how to shovel +it," Al soothed. "We got to get down anyway three feet." + +"I'll persevere, but I know now why you wanted the pick. + +"Who's the brains of this outfit?" + +"Obviously you are." + +"There ain't any real need for a pick." Al grinned. "Wet ground don't +have to be loosened. I'll go snake in some wood." + +Al left and Tammie frisked beside him. Both got into the truck, and Al +drove across the clearing into the woods. Then there came the sound of +his ax ringing on dead wood.... An hour later he was back. The pickup's +box was filled with wood and Al dragged a log that he had chained to the +truck. He left the wood beside the camp and, with Tammie sitting proudly +in Ted's accustomed place, drove back for another load. + +Ted continued to deepen the spring. It was cold, dirty work, but it was +a good idea and certainly it would make the camp more comfortable. The +spring must be made deep enough to form a pool. Then its present +overflow would be plugged, diverted into some secondhand pipe they'd +already bought and led into the kitchen sink. Al thought there was +sufficient fall so no pump would be necessary and the water would force +itself through the pipe. Thus the cabin would be assured of a continuous +flow of fresh, pure water. In winter, when the camp would have no +occupants, it would be necessary only to pull the pipe or plug it and so +send the overflow back into its original course. + +Al returned with a second load of wood, dumped it and came up to see how +Ted was doing. Tammie sniffed at the muddy pool, then promptly jumped +into it. He climbed out, shook himself and sent a roily spray flying in +all directions. + +Ted ducked and sputtered, "For Pete's sake, dog!" + +Al grinned. "He thinks you need a bath." + +Ted glanced down at his mud-spattered boots and clothing. "Maybe I do. +Is this deep enough?" + +"Let's have the shovel." + +Ted stood aside while Al took the implement. An old hand at this sort of +thing, he probed expertly into corners that Ted had missed and lifted +out shovelfuls of mud without splashing his clothes at all. Ten minutes +later he leaned on the shovel and inspected the spring, which in its +present stage of construction was a muddy pool, four feet square by a +little more than three deep, with the overflow still going down its +natural channel. + +"That'll do," Al decided. "Now for the plumbin'." + +He caught up a length of pipe, walked to the apple trees, inserted his +pipe in a crotch and bent it into an 'L.' He bent it again, so that one +end formed a gooseneck, and carried his pipe into the cabin. Al +maneuvered one end through an already drilled hole in the floor, hung +the gooseneck over the sink and used a metal clamp to fasten his pipe to +the wall. + +Ted marveled. His father had measured nothing, but the bent pipe fitted +perfectly and the straight half of the 'L' lay flat on the ground +beneath the cabin. + +Ted asked, + +"What now?" + +"Let's eat." + +"Most sensible idea I've heard all day." + +They ate the sandwiches and drank the coffee they'd brought along while +Tammie, sitting hopefully near, expertly caught and gobbled the crusts +they tossed him. Then the two went back to work. + +Taking a bit of soap from his pocket, Al soaped the threads on another +length of pipe; filling the threads, the soap would prevent leaks. The +two "plumbers" then fitted this section into the pipe that protruded +beneath the cabin and continued with additional lengths until they were +within five feet of the spring. + +Al cut that five-foot length off with a hack saw. He plugged the cut end +with a piece of wood, started at a point about a foot below the top of +the knoll and used the flat of his ax to drive the plugged section of +pipe through so that it emerged a foot below the surface of the spring. +He screwed the short length into the already laid pipe and straightened. + +"Now we're diggin' where there's taters!" he said cheerfully. + +Catching up the shovel, he closed the spring's outlet with dirt and mud. +Then he rolled up his right sleeve, reached into the water and pulled +the wooden plug out. A second time he straightened, grinning. "If it +don't work, it's a sign we did it wrong. Let's go see." + +They re-entered the cabin and stood expectantly near the sink. For a +moment nothing happened. Then a series of choking gurgles and a rush of +air came through the gooseneck. This was followed by a muddy trickle +that subsided to a few drops. Then there was a violent surge of water +that leveled off to a steady flow. Al and Ted looked triumphantly at +each other. + +"It works!" Al said. + +"Running water yet!" Ted exulted, "Even if it is muddy!" + +"It'll clear itself in a few hours." + +"Don't you think we should have a faucet on this gooseneck?" + +Al shook his head. "Not in cold weather. It don't freeze 'cause it runs +fast. Come spring, we may tie a faucet onto it." + +"What do we do now?" + +"Go home. It's quittin' time." + +Ted was surprised to find that long evening shadows were slanting across +the valleys. They had worked hard, and perhaps that had made the day +seem so short. Only when they climbed back into the pickup for the ride +home did he realize that he was very tired. He tickled Tammie's silken +ears. + +"Tomorrow's another day," he murmured. + +"Yep," Al agreed somberly, "and another day brings more work. Reckon +I'll take after that coyote. He's got to be caught. You want to saw +wood?" + +"Sure thing." + + * * * * * + +Early the next morning, Al let Ted and Tammie off at the camp and turned +back, with traps and rifle, to get on the trail of the marauding coyote. +While the collie renewed his acquaintance with the chipmunks, Ted laid a +chunk of wood in the sawbuck and sawed off a twelve-inch length. He +sawed another ... and worked until noon. After lunch, he started +splitting the wood he had sawed. It was the right way to do things. If +hunters cut their own wood, they might injure valuable trees. + +Evening shadows were long again when Al came to pick him up. "Get your +coyote?" Ted greeted his father. + +"No, but I will. I found where he's runnin' and I put traps in the right +places. See you got a sizable pile of wood." + +"I haven't been loafing." + +"Not much anyhow." + +Ted said tiredly, "What a refreshing sense of humor my old pappy's got." + +They turned into the driveway of their own house, to see Loring Blade's +pickup truck already there and the game warden waiting. With him was +Jack Callahan, Sheriff of Mahela County. + +Al's voice was weighted with surprise as he welcomed them. "Hi, Lorin'. +'Lo, Jack. Been waitin' long?" + +"Not very long," Loring Blade said. "We figured you'd be in about now. +We have to ask you some questions, Al." + +"Well, come in and ask." + +They entered the house and Ted snapped on the lights in the living room. +He started into the kitchen to prepare supper. Al swung to face their +guests. + +"Ask away," he invited them. + +"We came to find out," said Jack Callahan, "what you can tell us about +the shooting of Smoky Delbert." + + + + +4 + +THE FUGITIVE + + +The words brought Ted to a shocked halt, just as he was entering the +kitchen. He turned to stare in disbelief and Tammie, sensing that +something was wrong, searched his master's face as though this would +show him what he must do. Failing to find any guiding sign, the collie +turned toward the two strangers. He did nothing and would do nothing +until Ted or Al told him to. But he was ready for any part he must take. + +In his turn, Ted looked to his father for a clue and found none. +Whatever Al might feel, he was successfully hiding it, and his voice was +neither raised nor lowered when he spoke. + +"Somebody finally got him, huh?" + +Jack Callahan challenged, "What do you mean by that?" + +"Where you been the past twenty or twenty-five years, Jack? Smoky's been +askin' for it at least that long." + +Callahan's voice was hard as ice and as brittle. "You didn't answer my +question." + +"So I didn't, but I will. I know nothin' 'bout who might've shot Smoky, +but I can think of lots of reasons why." + +"Is this yours?" + +Callahan's hand dipped into his pocket and came up bearing Al's +distinctive tobacco pouch. Ted gasped. His father was unmoved. + +"Yep. But I haven't seen it for two weeks or more." + +"That's true!" Ted asserted. "He hasn't had it for at least that long!" + +Al said quietly, "Stay out of this, boy." + +"You needn't stay out." Callahan swung toward Ted. "Was your father with +you today?" + +"Well--no." + +"Where was he?" + +"He was out hunting a coyote." + +A note of triumph in his voice, Callahan turned again to Al. "By any +chance, a two-legged coyote?" + +Al said disgustedly, "Don't be a fool!" + +"Did you have your rifle with you?" + +"What would you carry if you was huntin' a coyote? A pocketful of +pebbles?" + +"Can you account for your actions of today?" + +"Yep. Crossed the nose of Hawkbill, went into Coon Valley, climbed that +to its head, swung behind Burned Mountain, crossed the Fordham Road and +come back by way of Fiddlefoot Crick." + +"Can you prove all this?" + +"Sure!" Al snorted. "I'll get you an affy-davit from a couple of crows +that saw me." + +"That is your tobacco pouch?" + +"I've already said it is." + +"That pouch," and again Callahan's voice rose in triumph, "was found not +six feet from where Smoky fell!" + +"So?" + +"Al, I'd hate to have to get tough with you." + +"Don't think you'd better try it." + +"Loring heard you threaten to shoot Delbert." + +"And I also," Loring Blade broke in, "heard Smoky threaten to shoot Al. +There's more than one side to this, Jack, and suppose you simmer down?" + +"I'm in charge here!" + +"But you're getting nowhere. Al, will you talk to me?" + +"I'll tell you what I can, Lorin'." + +"If you had anything to do with this, tell your story now. I don't hold +with shooting, but certainly I never held with Smoky Delbert. I, for +one, am willing to believe that, no matter how it happened or who he +met, Smoky raised his rifle first. I've known him a long while." + +"But you never jailed him." + +"Only because," the warden said, "I could never catch him. He was crafty +as he was mean. But he's still a human being." + +"Could be some argument 'bout that," Al murmured. "Lorin', where was +Smoky shot?" + +"Coon Valley," the warden answered reluctantly. "Almost beside those +three big sycamores near Glory Rock." + +"Is he dead?" + +"No, but he probably would be if he hadn't dragged himself to the +Fordham Road. Bill Layton, passing in his logging truck, found him and +took him into the hospital at Lorton." + +"Is he goin' to die?" + +"He's in a bad way." + +"Has he talked?" + +"Not yet." + +"How about the bullet?" + +"It went right through him; we couldn't find it." + +"How do you know he was shot near them three sycamores in Coon Valley?" + +"Bill told us where he picked him up. Jack and I went up there to see +what we could find and," the warden shrugged, "the back trail wasn't +hard to follow. Smoky was hit hard." + +"And you found my tobacco pouch?" + +"That's right, Al. It was within a few feet of where Smoky fell." + +"How do you know he fell there?" + +Loring Blade shrugged again. "He laid a while before he started to drag +himself out. There was plenty of evidence." + +"Now here's a point, Lorin'. I've already said I was in Coon Valley +today. Suppose I had my pouch, couldn't I have lost it when I passed the +sycamores?" + +"You could have." + +"What time did you go up Coon Valley?" Jack Callahan broke in. + +"'Twas before eight. I started early." + +"Then you crossed back to the Fordham Road?" + +"Don't try to snarl my words up," Al warned. "I've already said that I +went up Coon Valley to its head and crossed back of Burned Mountain to +the Fordham Road." + +"But you heard no shooting?" + +Al seemed a little contemptuous. "You ever make that crossin'?" + +"I asked you a question." + +"And I asked you one. Did you ever cross that way?" + +"No." Put on the defensive, Callahan sulked. + +"Try it," Al advised shortly. "It's a right smart hop. There's places +back in there where you couldn't hear a cannon fired in Coon Valley." + +"Look, Al," Loring Blade pleaded, "I'll ask you again to tell your +straight story. I'm sure there has to be more to it than this. I know +you too well to think you'd shoot Delbert or anyone else down in cold +blood. Won't you help me to help you?" + +Al said doggedly, "I've told my story. Seems like there's an easy way to +settle this whole works." + +"What is it?" + +"Delbert ain't dead. When he talks, he'll tell who shot him." + +"There's no guarantee that Delbert will ever talk." + +Jack Callahan said, "I'm afraid I'll have to take you in, Al." + +"On what grounds?" + +"Suspicion. If Delbert lives, the charge will be assault with a deadly +weapon. If he dies--" Callahan shrugged. + +Al looked aside, and the fierce storms that could rage in his usually +gentle eyes were raging now. Ted shivered, and then Al calmed. + +"All right, Jack. If that's the way it must be." + +"You won't resist?" + +"I promise I won't raise a hand against you or Lorin'." + +Loring Blade said relievedly, "That's a help, Al. Thanks." + +"Is there any reason," Al asked, "why a body can't eat first? Ted and +me've been out sinst early mornin' with only a snack in between." + +Loring Blade said agreeably, "No reason at all, Al." Callahan glared at +the warden. Al smiled faintly. + +"Have a bite with us, Lorin'?" + +"I'll be glad to." + +"How about you, Jack?" + +"Look here, Al, if you try anything--" + +"I've give my word that I'll raise no hand to either of you." + +"See that you keep your word." + +"Leave that to me. Will you eat with us?" + +Callahan answered reluctantly, "I'll stay." + +"Then Ted and me'll be rustlin' a bite." + +Silent, but seething inwardly, Al joined Ted in the kitchen. Knowing +something was amiss, but not what he could do about it, Tammie lay down +woefully on his bearskin rug. Wanting to speak, but not knowing what to +say, Ted looked dully at his father's face. It was unreadable. + +Finally Al said, "We'll all feel better when we've had a bite to eat, +and I for one am hungry." + +He lighted a burner and stooped to take a kettle from beneath the sink. +Ted stared his astonishment. Al had the huge kettle, the one they used +when there were ten or more hunters staying with them. Half-filling it +with water, he put it over the burner to heat and took an unopened peck +of potatoes from their storage place. Industriously he began to peel +them. + +Ted said, "Dad--" + +"We'll need plenty," Al broke in. "S'pose you get about four more +parcels of pork chops out and start 'em cookin?" + +"But, Dad--" + +"Let's not," Al whirled almost savagely, "waste our time talkin'. Let's +just do it." + +Sick with fear, Ted did as directed. He and Al froze pork chops six to a +package, and three were all a hungry man wanted. Four more packages +meant that they would cook thirty pork chops, and what were any four +men--even four ravenous men--to do with them? Ted got four more packages +out and began breaking them apart. He stole a sidewise glance at his +father. Had this sudden, terrible accusation unseated Al's reason? Ted +put the still frozen pork chops into two of their biggest skillets and +began thawing them over burners. Loring Blade came into the kitchen. + +"Can I help?" + +Al said, "Reckon not, Lorin'." + +"My gosh! You're making enough for an army!" + +"Might's well have plenty. Ted, give me another sack of biscuit mix." + +Ted's head whirled. He licked dry lips and looked at the two pans of +biscuits Al had already prepared. Loring Blade turned away and in that +instant when they were unobserved, Al shook a warning head. Ted took +another sack of biscuit mix from the cupboard while cold fear gnawed at +him as a dog gnaws a bone. If there was some idea behind this madness, +what could it possibly be? Al was preparing enough food for a dozen men. + +Ted turned to his skillets full of sputtering pork chops while Al tested +the boiling potatoes with a fork. + +"Most done," he commented. "How you comin'?" + +"Another five minutes." + +"Guess I can drain the spuds." + +He drained them into the sink, shook them, and added a generous hand +full of salt and a bit of pepper. He shook the kettle of potatoes again +to mix the seasoning thoroughly. Then he put them on the table and +pushed the hot coffee pot to a warming burner. While Ted took their +biggest platter from the cupboard and began forking pork chops onto it, +Al slipped in to set four places at the table. + +"Ready?" + +"All ready." + +"Guess we can eat, then." + +Leaving the potatoes in their huge kettle, he carried it in and put it +in the center of the table. Ted brought the platter of pork chops and +returned to the kitchen for coffee. Al passed him with two plates of +biscuits. + +"Chow." + +Jack Callahan, who had been so grim and unrelenting and now seemed to +regret it, smiled. + +"Whew! Are four of us going to eat that?" + +"If we can." + +"I'll do my darndest." + +"You're s'posed to." + +"Doggonit, Al," Callahan said plaintively, "don't blame me for this. I +have a job and I intend to do it!" + +"I know." + +"There's nothing personal." + +"I know that, too." + +"Do you have to be so gloomy?" + +"What'd you do if you was on your way to jail? Turn handsprings?" + +Loring Blade grinned mirthlessly, speared two pork chops and added a +generous helping of potatoes. He broke a hot biscuit and lathered it +with butter. The game warden began to eat. + +"Seen Damon and Pythias lately?" he asked companionably. + +"Nope." + +Loring Blade looked down at his plate. Under ordinary circumstances they +could have made easy conversation. But circumstances weren't ordinary; +the shadow of one in trouble cast its pall over the other three. The +game warden ate a pork chop and some of his potatoes. Then, unable to +refrain from talking about that which loomed so largely, he burst out, +"Al, for pete's sake! If you have anything to say, say it! If you shot +in self-defense, I, for one, will buy the story. There's a way out if +you'll take it!" + +"I've told my story, Lorin'." + +"You refuse to admit you shot Delbert?" + +"I didn't shoot him." + +Callahan said, "There's evidence to the contrary." + +"So?" + +Ted toyed with a single pork chop, one potato, and almost gagged. He +took a drink of hot coffee and found it stimulating. Tammie, lying on +the bearskin, looked questioningly at his master. Loring Blade pushed +his plate back. + +"I'm full. Told you you cooked far too much." + +"No harm's done." + +"We'll help you clean up." + +"Right nice of you." + +Al put the uneaten pork chops, a great pile of them, in two covered +dishes and placed them in the refrigerator. He covered the kettle of +potatoes and left them on the table, and put the biscuits in the +breadbox. Ted washed the dishes and Loring Blade dried them. + +While he worked Ted brought some order to his scattered thoughts. His +father was in trouble, serious trouble, and nothing mattered now except +getting him out. That meant the services of a skilled attorney and they +had little money. But he could sell the camp for at least as much as it +had cost and probably he could get a job in Lorton. Ted washed the last +plate and Loring Blade dried it. There was an uneasy interval during +which nobody did or said anything because nobody knew what to do or say. + +Finally Loring Blade asked, "Are you ready, Al?" + +"Yep." + +"Shall we go?" + +"Guess so." + +Ted said firmly, "I'm following you in. I'm going to see John McLean +tonight. He's a good lawyer." + +There was a ring of command in Al's voice, "No, Ted!" + +"But--" + +"Don't come to Lorton tonight! Stay right here!" + +Ted said reluctantly, "If that's what you want--" + +"That's what I do want. This thing's too harebrained already. No use +makin' it more so by actin' without thinkin'." + +"I'll come in in the morning." + +"If you think best. So long for now." + +The door opened and closed and they were gone. Ted heard Loring Blade +start his pickup and watched the red taillight bobbing down their +driveway. They reached the Lorton Road and Loring Blade gunned his +motor. + +Ted sank dully into a chair and Tammie came to sit comfortingly beside +him. The big dog shoved his slender muzzle into Ted's cupped hand, and, +getting no response, he laid his sleek head on his master's knee. The +measured ticking of the clock on the mantel seemed like the measured +ringing of tiny bells. Ted fastened his gaze on it, and because he had +to do something, he watched the clock's black hands creep slowly around. +Like everything else, he thought, time was a relative thing. Fifteen +minutes seemed no more than an eyewink when one was busy, but it was an +age when you could do nothing except struggle with your own tortured +thoughts. + +Another fifteen minutes passed, and another, and an exact hour had +elapsed when Tammie sprang up and trotted to the door. He stood, head +raised and tail wagging. Ted opened the door. + +"Dad!" + +"'Fraid I got to move, Ted. Help me pack all thet grub we cooked for +supper, will you? Hills'll be full of posse men for the next few days +and I can't be startin' any fires." + +"But--" + +"I kept my promise," Al assured him, "and all I promised was that I +wouldn't raise a hand 'gainst Lorin' or Jack. Never did say I wouldn't +jump out of the truck when it slowed for Dead Man's Curve." + +"They'll be on your trail!" + +"Not right away, they won't. I went into the woods when I took off and +they're lookin' for me there." He grinned briefly. "Callahan found me. +'Come out or I'll shoot!' he said. I didn't come out and he shot. Hope +the beech tree he thought was me don't mind." + +"You could have run from here if you were going to run anyhow!" + +"When I run," Al Harkness said, "nobody 'cept me gets in the way of any +bullets I might draw. Think I want 'em shootin' up you or Tammie?" + +Al laid a canvas pack sack on the kitchen table. While Ted wrapped the +cooked pork chops in double thicknesses of waxed paper and the excess +biscuits in single, his father spooned the potatoes into glass quart +jars and mashed them down. He packed everything into the rucksack and +added a package of coffee, one of tea, some salt and a few +miscellaneous items. Donning his hunting jacket, he shouldered the pack. +Filling two pockets with matches, he slid two unopened boxes of +cartridges into another. Finally he strung a belt ax and hunting knife +on a leather belt, strapped it around his middle and took his rifle from +its rack. + +"Don't try to find me, Ted." + +"What shall I say if they come?" Ted whispered. + +"Tell the truth and say I was here. They'll find it out anyhow." + +"What are you going to do?" + +"Lay in the hills 'til somethin' turns up. Can't do nothin' else now." + +"Dad, don't go!" Ted pleaded. "Stay and face it out. It's the best way." + +"It might have been," Al agreed, "and I was most tempted to go clear in. +But it ain't any more." + +"Why?" + +"Lorin' had his radio on; listened on the way down. Smoky Delbert come +to and talked. He named me as the man who shot him and said I shot from +ambush! Be seein' you, Ted." + + + + +5 + +COON VALLEY + + +Tammie whined uneasily and Ted woke with a start. He glanced at the +clock on the mantel and saw that it read twenty minutes past five. The +last time he had looked, he remembered, the clock had said half past +two. Obviously he'd fallen asleep in the chair where he'd been waiting +for someone to come or something to happen. No one had come, but they +were coming now. On the Lorton Road, Ted heard the cars that Tammie had +detected twenty seconds earlier. + +He got to his feet and looked out into the thin, gray mistiness of early +dawn. With its lights glowing like a ghost's eyes in the wan dimness, a +car churned up the Harkness drive and a second followed it. The boy +shrank away. Last night's events now seemed like some horrible +nightmare, but the tread of steps outside and the knock on the door +proved that they were not. + +Ted opened the door to confront Loring Blade and Corporal Paul Hausler, +of the State Police. He glanced beyond them at the men gathered beside +the cars and saw that three of the nine were attired in State Police +uniforms. The six volunteer posse men were Tom and Bud Delbert, Smoky's +brothers; Enos, Alfred and Ernest Brill, his cousins; and Pete Tooms, +who would go anywhere and do anything as long as it promised excitement +and no monotonous labor. + +Loring Blade greeted Ted, "Good morning, Ted." + +The boy muttered, "Good morning." + +"You seen your dad?" + +"Yes." + +"I mean, since we took him away last night?" + +"Yes." + +"Did he come back here?" + +"That's right." + +"What time?" + +Ted hesitated. He'd had his eyes fixed on the clock, but seconds and +split seconds counted, too. + +"I don't know the _exact_ time." + +"Better tell the truth," Corporal Hausler warned bluntly. "It can go +hard with you if you don't. Where's your father now?" + +"I don't know." + +"Maybe a couple of slaps will jar your memory!" + +He took a step forward. Tammie, rippling in, placed himself in front of +Ted. There was no growl in his throat or snarl on his lips, but his eyes +were grim and his manner threatening. Hausler stopped. + +"I don't think you'd better let him bite me." + +Loring Blade said quietly, "Cut it out, Paul. There's enough trouble in +this family without adding unnecessarily to it. Ted didn't do anything." + +"He can tell us where his father is." + +"I cannot!" Ted flared. + +"When did he leave here?" + +"Last night." + +"What time?" + +"I forgot to hold a stop watch on him." + +"Why didn't you stop him? Don't you know that failing to do so can make +you liable to arrest as an accessory after the fact?" + +"A sheriff and a game warden couldn't stop him." + +"He's right," Loring Blade agreed. "We couldn't. Why don't you start +your men into the hills?" + +"If he left this house," Hausler threatened, "we'll be on his track in +two minutes." + +He turned and went out, and Ted laughed. Loring Blade swung to face him. + +"You feel pretty bitter, don't you?" + +"How would you feel?" + +"Not too happy," the warden admitted. "Why did you laugh?" + +Ted grinned faintly. "Does that trooper really think he, or anyone else, +can track Dad?" + +"If he does have such ideas," Loring Blade conceded, "he'll soon have +some different ones. Nobody can track Al Harkness." + +"Nor can they find him." + +"Perhaps not immediately, but sooner or later they will." + +"Yes?" Ted questioned. "Send a thousand men into the hills, send a +thousand into any big thicket, and they wouldn't find him unless they +happened to stumble right across him." + +"Al can't stay in the hills forever." + +"Maybe not, but he can stay there a long time. He knows every chipmunk +den in the Mahela." + +"He won't be easy to find," the warden conceded, "but he will be found. +What time did he come back last night?" + +"Just about an hour after you took him away." + +Loring Blade exclaimed, "Wow!" + +Ted looked quizzically at him and the warden continued, "We were on Dead +Man's Curve, and he was between Jack and me, when suddenly he pushed the +door open and just seemed to float out of it. We beat the brush around +Dead Man's Curve until one o'clock this morning. About then I tumbled to +the idea that he must have come back here." + +"Why didn't you come last night?" + +Loring Blade shrugged. "He slipped through our fingers once. It wasn't +hard to figure that he wouldn't have done that only to let himself be +picked up again. Besides, it did seem sort of useless to hunt him at +night. He headed into the woods, and because he didn't make a sound that +either Jack or I could hear, we thought he was holed up right close. +Ted, do you think he shot Smoky?" + +"No!" + +"Why not?" + +"He said he didn't." + +"Delbert said he did." + +"Just what did he say?" + +"That's all. He regained consciousness briefly. The officer with him +asked who shot him and he said Al did from ambush. I doubt if he's +talked since." + +"Do you believe Dad shot Smoky?" + +The warden frowned. "If he did, it wasn't from ambush. There's more to +it than that. We could have brought it out, but it will be harder now. +When Al ran, he made things look pretty bad." + +"Not to me." + +"But to a lot of other people. Do you think you can get him to come back +and give himself up?" + +"I asked him last night to stay and face it out." + +"Why wouldn't he?" + +"Dad's part of the Mahela," Ted said quietly, "and the Mahela's code is +the one he knows best. He would not go to jail for a crime he didn't +commit, any more than a wild deer would voluntarily enter a cage." + +"Doggone, that sure complicates things. Do you have any bright ideas?" + +"What did you find in Coon Valley?" + +"Just what I told you, Smoky's back trail and your dad's tobacco pouch." + +"Nothing else?" + +"Smoky's rifle. We brought it in with us." + +"No sign of anything else?" + +Loring Blade answered wearily, "You know what it's like there. Unless +it's a trail like Smoky's, and Smoky was bleeding hard, there's little +in the way of sign that a human eye can detect." + +"Just the same, I think I'll go up there." + +"What do you expect to find?" + +"I don't know. Anything would be a help." + +"Guess it would at that. Good luck." + +"Are--are you going to join the hunt for Dad?" + +Loring Blade grinned wryly. "I'm not that optimistic. I agree with you +that, if Al wants to lose himself in the Mahela, he won't be found. But +sooner or later he'll show up. He can't spend the winter there." + +"I wouldn't bet on that." + +"Bet the way you please. Now I'm not saying that you will, but if you +should run across Al up there in the hills, see if you can persuade him +to give himself up. He still has a good case, in spite of Smoky's +testimony. Too many people know Al too well to believe he'd shoot +anybody from ambush; he has a lot of friends. The only ones who'd join +the posse were Delberts and Pete Tooms, and I sure hope none of them +stumble across Al. If they come in fighting, he's apt to fight right +back, and one stove-in Delbert around here is enough. Good luck again, +Ted." + +Ted lost his belligerence; the warden was his father's friend. "Stay and +have breakfast with me." + +"Thanks, but we breakfasted in Lorton before we came here. I'll be +seeing you around." + +"Do that." + +The warden left and Ted was alone except for Tammie. He dropped a hand +to the collie's silken head and tried to think a way out of the +bewildering maze in which he was trapped. He was sure of two things; Al +had not shot Smoky Delbert and his father would stay in the hills until, +as Loring Blade had said, winter forced him out. But it would have to be +bitter, harsh winter. Al could make his way in anything else. + +Ted whispered, "What are we going to do, Tammie?" + +Tammie licked his fingers and Ted furrowed his brow. The situation, as +it existed, was almost pitifully vague. A man had been shot in Coon +Valley, and the only signs left were the hurt man's trail and an +accusing finger to point at who had hurt him. There had to be more than +that, but what? Loring Blade had found nothing and Loring was an expert +woodsman. However, even though everything seemed hopeless, somebody had +better do something to help Al and, except for Loring Blade, Ted was the +only one who wanted to help him. Even though it was a slim one, finding +something that the game warden had not found seemed the only chance. +Ted decided to take it. + +"But we'll eat first," he promised Tammie. + +Ted prepared a hearty breakfast of bacon and eggs and fed Tammie. Then +he fixed a lunch and, with Tammie beside him, got into Al's old pickup. +He gulped. The seat had always seemed small enough when he and his +father occupied it together. With Al gone, and despite the fact that +Tammie sat beside him, the seat was huge. Ted gritted his teeth and +started down the drive. + +He turned left on the Lorton Road, slowed for the dangerous, hairpin +turn that was Dead Man's Curve, speeded up to climb a gentle rise, +descended back into the valley and turned again on the Fordham Road. A +well graded and not at all a dangerous highway, somehow the Fordham Road +had never seemed a place for cars. It was as though it had always been +here, a part of the Mahela, and had never been torn out of the beech +forest with gargantuan bulldozers or ripped with blasting powder. For +the most part, it was used by the trucks of a small logging outfit +which, under State supervision, was cutting surplus timber and by +hunters who wanted to drive their cars as close as possible to remote +hunting country. + +Ted slowed up for five deer that drifted across the road in front of him +and stopped for a fawn that stood with braced legs and wide eyes and +regarded the truck in amazement. Only when Ted tooted the horn did the +fawn come alive, scramble up an embankment and disappear. The boy smiled +wearily. Had Al been with him, both would have enjoyed the startled fawn +and they would have talked about it. + +An hour after leaving his house, Ted came to the mouth of Coon Valley. +Long and shallow, the upper parts of both slopes were covered with +beech forest. But if any trees had ever found a rooting in the floor of +the valley or for about seventy yards up either side, they had died or +been cut so long ago that even the stumps had disappeared. The usual +little stream trickled down the valley. + +Ted pulled over to the side and stopped. He got out and put the truck's +keys in his pocket. Tammie jumped to the ground beside him. The big +collie bristled and walked warily around a dark stain in the road. Ted +fought a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. There was no doubt that +some hurt thing had lain here, but unless someone had told him so, he +never would have known that it was a man. Ted licked his lips, and +Tammie stayed close beside him as they started up the valley. + +Smoky Delbert's journey had indeed been a terrible one. Had he not been +hardened by a lifetime of outdoor living, probably he never could have +made it. In a way, Ted supposed, it was Smoky's atonement for his many +vicious practices. Yet, the boy found it in his heart to admit that, +whoever had shot the poacher and forced him to crawl, wounded and +bleeding, to the Fordham Road, was even more vicious. + +Ted stirred uneasily, then calmed himself. Al had said it was no part of +his doing. Therefore it was not. Who had done this dreadful thing? + +A spring trickling across the valley had left a soft spot. Here Ted +stopped instantly. Very plain in the soft earth were the tracks of a +single, unshod horse that had walked down Coon Valley and back up it, or +up it and back down. Ted could not be sure, but his heart leaped. Loring +Blade and Jack Callahan had said nothing about any horses. Who had taken +a horse up the valley, and why? His interest quickening, Ted looked for +more horse tracks. + +He found them farther on, where the trail became a stretch of sand from +the little stream's overflow, but he still could not determine whether +the horse had gone up or down the valley first. He knew definitely only +that it had traveled both ways, and if he could find out why, he might +also find a clue as to who had shot Smoky Delbert. Ted kept downcast +eyes on the trail. + +Save for that unmistakable sign left by Smoky Delbert and an occasional +path or little trail which anything at all might have used, for a long +ways he found only scattered indications that Coon Valley was traveled +at all. The lush grass, beginning to wither because of lack of rain, +formed its own hard cushion. An Indian or bushman tracker might have +been able to read the story of what had come this way. Ted could find +little. + +Trotting a little ways ahead, Tammie stopped suddenly, pricked up his +ears and looked interestedly at a small clearing that reached perhaps +three hundred yards into the beech woods. Following his gaze, Ted saw +two brown horses and a black one. Their heads were up and ears pricked +forward as they studied the two on the trail. Ted sighed in resignation. + +The Crawfords and the Staceys, who lived in the Mahela, each kept +several horses. Why they did, why they kept any at all, only they could +explain, for neither had enough land to warrant keeping even one horse. +Still they had them. The horses were usually left to forage for +themselves from the time the first spring grass appeared until hunting +season opened. Then sometimes they were pressed into service, to pack or +pull the tents and gear of hunters who had a yen for some remote spot, +or to pack out deer or bears that had been brought down a long ways from +any road. + +At any rate, the horse tracks were explained. While it wasn't usual for +one horse to break from its companions and go wandering, now and again +one would do it. The black horse broke from the two browns, trotted down +to Ted, arched its neck and extended a friendly muzzle. Ted petted him. + +"Lonesome for a human being, fella?" + +Ted went on and the black horse followed him a little ways before it +turned back to join the other two. + +A half mile from the Fordham Road, Ted came to the three sycamores near +Glory Rock. + +The sides of Coon Valley pitched sharply upwards here, and the beech +forest came closer to the valley's floor. The three sycamores, a giant +tree and two near-giants, rustled their leaves in the little breeze and +remained aloof from everything else, as though they were the royalty in +this place. Even Glory Rock, an elephant-backed, elephant-sized boulder +whose ancient face wore a stubble of lichens, seemed demure in their +presence. To the left, a raggle-taggle thicket of beech brush crawled to +within twenty feet of the valley's floor. + +Ted looked down at the place where Smoky Delbert had fallen, and there +could be no mistaking it. The boy stood still, searching everything near +the spot, and as he did hope faded. + +The bullet, Loring Blade had said, had gone clear through Smoky. That, +within itself, was unusual. With no exceptions of which Ted knew, +everybody who came into the Mahela used soft-point hunting bullets that +mushroomed on impact. But now and again, though very rarely, a faulty +bullet didn't expand when it struck. Probably that was another factor +that had saved Smoky's life. A mushrooming bullet did awful damage. In +spite of the fact that some of it might escape the hunter, probably at +least eighty per cent of anything hit with one died sooner or later. +Smoky, Ted's experience told him, never would have moved from beside the +sycamores if this bullet had mushroomed. + +Ted furrowed his brows. The bullet might prove a lot, but finding it was +as hopeless as locating a pebble in the ocean. There was nothing except +the sycamores and grass right here, and none of the sycamore trunks were +bullet marked. Going through Smoky without expanding, the bullet had +snicked into the ground the same way. Locating it might mean sifting +tons, and perhaps dozens of tons, of earth. Even then, unless one were +lucky, the bullet might elude him. + +Tammie, who was sitting beside Ted and staring into the beech brush, +whined suddenly. In turn he lifted both white front paws and put them +down again. He drank deeply of some scent that only he could detect. Ted +looked keenly at him. + +"What have you got, Tammie?" + +Tammie ran a little ways toward the beech brush and turned to look back +over his shoulder. Ted frowned. Loring Blade had reported correctly and +in full everything that could be found in the valley, but Loring hadn't +had a dog with him. Obviously, Tammie's nose had discovered something +that any human being might well miss. + +Ted ordered, "Go ahead, Tammie." + +The dog started up-slope toward the brush and Ted followed. He ducked +into the thicket, so dense that, once within it, visibility was limited +to twenty feet or less and there were places where he had to crawl. In +the center of the thicket, Tammie halted to look down and Ted came up +beside him. + +In the center of the beech brush was a well-marked trail used by deer +that knew perfectly well the advantages of staying in a thicket. Tammie +was looking down at a splash of drying blood, obviously a deer had been +badly wounded here and had fallen. Ted heaped lavish praise on his dog. + +"Good boy! Good boy, Tammie!" + +He set his jaw and his eyes glinted. Unless a hunter were within twenty +feet of the trail, in which case it was highly improbable that any deer +would have come down it, nobody within the beech brush could have +wounded the deer. But how about the opposite slope? + +Ted retraced his steps and climbed to the top of Glory Rock. From that +vantage point, where he could look across at it instead of trying to +look through it, the beech thicket became more open. He couldn't see +everything, but he could see very plainly the place where the deer had +fallen. Moving to one side, Ted had the same view. The deer could have +been shot from any of a dozen places on this slope.... What had taken +place assumed definite shape in Ted's mind. + +Smoky Delbert, always the poacher, had known of the beech thicket and +the trail through it. He had waited for a deer and shot one when it +appeared. Somebody else, somebody who knew and took violent exception to +Smoky and his antics--and there were at least thirty men who did--had +either happened along or had witnessed the whole thing. Probably there +had been an argument, followed by the shooting. + +No nearer a solution than he had been before, Ted nibbled his lip in +frustration. He knew now why Smoky had been shot, but he still hadn't +the faintest idea as to who had shot him. All he had were widely +scattered pieces of a jigsaw puzzle, with too many pieces missing. +However, first things came first and he'd better get the hurt deer, for +it was both practical and merciful to do so. Badly wounded, it couldn't +possibly travel far. If he found it still alive, the least he could do +was put it out of its misery. If it was dead, he should save what could +be salvaged of the venison. Al would have done the same had he been +here. + +Ted said, "Come on, Tammie." + +They returned to the place where the deer had fallen and took up the +trail. It was easy to follow, for the animal had been badly hurt. +Straight down the trail it had run, and sixty yards farther on Ted found +where it had fallen again and thrashed about. The beech brush blended +back into beech forest and the trail Ted followed swerved to within +twenty feet of the valley floor. He found a great puddle of blood where +the deer had fallen a third time. + +He marveled. The deer had been down three times in a little more than +three hundred yards and it never should have been able to get up and go +on. But it had gone on and it had also nearly stopped bleeding. From +this point there was only a spot here and there to mark the leaves. Ted +shook his head. If he wasn't seeing this himself, he wouldn't have +believed it. He remembered that a deer is an incredibly tough thing. It +can still run after receiving wounds that would stop a man in his +tracks. + +Overrunning the trail, the boy had to stop and circle until he picked +it up again. It was necessary to do this so many times that, by +midafternoon, he was scarcely a mile from the three sycamores. A half +hour later he lost the trail completely; the deer had stopped bleeding. +Ted made a wide circle in an effort to find the trail again, and when he +failed, he made a wider circle. He stopped to think. + +He'd have sworn, knowing how hard the deer was hit, that it would never +run five hundred yards. Obviously he had guessed wrong, and what now? +Anything he did would be little better than a shot in the dark, but if +he could help it, he would not leave an injured beast to a lingering, +terrible death. Wounded wild things were apt to seek a haven in +thickets. Perhaps, if he cast back and forth through brush tangles, +Tammie would scent the deer again. + +Ted made his way to a grove of scrub hemlock, cut from there to a laurel +thicket and pushed and crawled his way through half a dozen snarls of +beech brush. He knew that he was not going to find the wounded deer and +he sorrowed for the suffering animal. About to drop his hand to Tammie's +head, he found that the collie was no longer beside him. + +He was about twenty feet back, dancing excitedly in the trail. His ears +were alert, his eyes happy, and there was a doggy smile on his jaws. He +had a scent, but it was not the scent of a wounded deer. Ted took his +handkerchief from his pocket and gave it to the dog. + +"Take it to Al," he ordered quietly. "Take it to Al, Tammie." + +Carrying the handkerchief, Tammie streaked into the forest and +disappeared. Ted walked down Coon Valley and waited at the truck. An +hour and a quarter later, no longer carrying the handkerchief, Tammie +joined him. Ted petted him and looked somberly at the forest. He didn't +know where Al was hiding and he didn't want to know. + +But Tammie knew. + + + + +6 + +MESSENGER DOG + + +In the gathering gloom of the beech woods, a silver-throated thrush sang +its evening song. Then, starting where it had ended, the thrush repeated +the same notes backwards. Ted paused to listen and Tammie halted beside +him. The boy grinned faintly. Because it first seemed to wind itself up +and then to unwind, Al had always insisted on calling this thrush the +"winder bird." It was, Ted supposed, as good a name as any. + +Tammie sat down and turned a quizzical head to look at the harness he +was wearing and, for excellent reasons, could wear only at night. Ted +himself had made the harness from a discarded pack sack. It had a chest +strap to keep it from sliding backwards, a belly strap to prevent it +from falling off, and on either side was a spacious pocket with a flap +that could be fastened. Right now, the pack was laden with thirty pounds +of junk that Ted had picked up around the house. + +Tammie tried to scrape the harness off with his right hind paw. Ted +stooped to pet and coax him. + +"Come on, Tammie. Come on. That's a good boy!" + +Tammie sighed and got to his feet. He didn't know why he was thus +burdened and he had no aspirations whatever to become a pack dog. But if +Ted wanted it, he would try to do it. He followed to the end of the +drive and stood expectantly while Ted opened the mailbox. + +The metropolitan daily in which Ted had placed his ad, and that was +always delivered to the Harknesses a day late, lay on top. Beneath were +thirteen letters. + +Ted's heart began to pound. He'd watched the mail every day, but except +for the paper, the usual hopeful bulletins addressed to "occupant," and +a few miscellaneous items, there had been nothing interesting. Ted had +almost despaired of getting anything, but he realized, as he stood with +the letters in his hand, that he hadn't allowed hunters enough time to +answer his ad. + +The thirteen letters represented more first-class mail than the +Harknesses usually received in three months, and Ted held them as though +they burned his fingers. They were important, perhaps the most important +letters he had ever had or ever would have, for the future of the +Harknesses could depend on what was in them. + +Ted ran back up the drive. Running with him, Tammie was too busy to pay +attention to the obnoxious pack. Ted burst into the house, slammed the +door behind him, laid the letters and papers on the table and knelt to +take the pack from Tammie. He thrust it, still laden, into the darkest +corner of a dark closet and turned excitedly back to the mail. + +Sighing with relief, Tammie curled up on his bearskin. Ted looked at the +sheaf of letters. Except for two, they were addressed in longhand. He +picked one up, made as though to open it then put it back down. If the +news was good, it would be very good. If bad, it would be very bad. His +eye fell on a box on the paper's front page. + + GUNMAN STILL AT LARGE + + After a week's intensive manhunt, Albert, "Al" Harkness is still at + large in the wild Mahela. Harkness, named by Clarence Delbert as + the man who shot him from ambush, escaped from two officers the + same night he was apprehended. Delbert, still in critical + condition, has supplied no additional details. Corporal Paul + Hausler, of the State Police, has expressed confidence that + Harkness will be captured. + +Ted pushed the paper aside and stared across the table. For three days +the hunt had been pressed with unflagging zeal. Only Pete Tooms and the +duly deputized Delberts had gone out for two days after that and now, +Ted understood, even they were staying home. They had discovered for +themselves what Ted and Loring Blade had known from the start: if Al +chose to hide in the Mahela, he couldn't be found. But the item in the +paper cast a shadow of things to come. + +Al could hide for a while, perhaps for a long while, but without proper +equipment or a place to stay, even he couldn't live in the wilderness +when winter struck with all its fury. Sooner or later, he would have to +come out, and what happened when he came was so terribly dependent on +what was in the letters! Ted slit the first one open and read, + + Dear Mr. Harkness: + + I saw your letter in the _Courier_ and we would like to rent your + camp for the first two weeks of deer season. Can you let me know at + once if it is available? There will be ten of us. + +Ted put the letter aside and picked up the next one. That likewise +wanted the camp for the first two weeks of deer season. There would be +eight in the party. But there was a very welcome, "I enclose an advance +to hold our reservation," with a twenty-dollar check made out to Ted. He +folded the note over the check and took up the third letter. That also +wanted the camp for the first two weeks of deer season. Ted turned to +Tammie. + +"Doesn't anybody hunt anything except deer?" + +But the fourth letter, containing a deposit of ten dollars, was from a +party of grouse hunters who wanted the camp during the first two weeks +of grouse season, and the fifth had been written by a man representing a +group of hunters who obviously liked to do things the hard way. Scorning +anything as easy as deer, grouse, squirrels, or cottontails, they wanted +the camp for bear season. There was no deposit enclosed, but if they +could be persuaded to send one, the camp would be rented for another +week. The next five letters, two of which contained deposits of twenty +dollars each, were all from deer hunters who wanted to come the first +two weeks of the season and the one after that was from a confirmed +grouse hunter who wished to come the first week. Ted picked up the last +letter, one of two that were typewritten, and read: + + Dear Ted Harkness: + + For lo, these many years, my silent feet have carried me into the + haunts of big game and my unerring rifle has laid them low. I have + moose, elk, grizzlies, caribou, sheep and goats to my credit. + Honesty compels me to admit that I also have several head of big + game to my discredit, but that happened in the days of my callow + youth, when I thought hunting and killing were synonymous. + + Presently, in my mellow old age, I still love to hunt. But I have + become--heaven help me!--a head hunter. In short, I want 'em big or + I don't want 'em. I do not have a whitetail buck to which I can + point with pride. Living in the Mahela, and I envy you your + dwelling place!, you must know the whereabouts of such a beastie. + + The simplicity of your ad was most impressive and I always did + admire people who sign themselves "Ted" rather than "Theodore." I + do not want your camp, but do you want to guide a doddering old + man? Find me a room, any old room at all as long as it's warm and + dry, and I'm yours for three weeks. Find me a buck that satisfies + me and, in addition to your guiding fee, I'll give you a bonus of + twenty-five dollars for every inch in the longest tine on either + antler. + + Humbly yours, + John L. Wilson + +Ted re-read the letter, so friendly and so obviously written by a hunter +who had experience, time and--Ted tried not to think it and couldn't +help himself because his need was desperate--money. The Harkness house +was very large and, now that Al was not in it, very empty. There was no +reason whatsoever why John L. Wilson, whoever he was, should not stay +here. Twelve dollars a day was not too much to ask for board, room and +guide services. As for the twenty-five dollars an inch--there were some +big bucks in the Mahela! + +Ted sat down to write, "Dear Mr. Wilson: Thanks very much for your +letter--" He crumpled the sheet of paper and started over, "Dear Mr. +Wilson: There are some big bucks--" Then he crumpled that sheet and did +the only thing he could do. "Dear Mr. Wilson: I am going to tell you +about Damon and Pythias." + +Ted told, and he was scrupulously honest. His father, born in the Mahela +almost fifty years ago, had never seen bigger bucks. Certainly they were +the biggest Ted had ever seen. In their prime now, royal trophies, a +couple of years would see them in their decline. Ted gave it as his +personal opinion that both were at their best this year. Next season, +they would not be quite as good and the year after, Ted thought, both +would bear the misshapen antlers that are so often the marks of old +bucks. But just getting a shot at either would involve more than a +routine hunt. The two bucks were very wise; many hunters had tried for +them and nobody had come near to getting either. It might very well take +three weeks just to hunt them, and Ted could not guarantee success. +However, though they were far and away the biggest, by no means were +Damon and Pythias the only big bucks in the Mahela. He concluded by +writing that Mr. Wilson could stay with him, and that his fee for board, +room and guide service would be twelve dollars a day. + +Ted sealed the letter, addressed it, put two stamps on, marked it air +mail and turned to the others. He shook a bewildered head. The way Carl +Thornton ran Crestwood, catering to guests had always seemed the essence +of simplicity. Obviously, it had its headaches. + +Of the dozen applicants for his camp, eight wanted it in deer season +only and all wanted the first two weeks. Ted screened the letters again, +then narrowed them down to the three who had sent advances. They'd +offered earnest intent of coming, the rest might and might not appear. +But which of the three should he accept? + +Ted solved it by consulting the postmarks on the letters. All had been +mailed the same day, but one had been stamped at ten A.M. and the other +two at two P.M. Ted wrote to the author of the letter with the earliest +time mark, a Mr. Allen Thomas, and told him that the camp was his for +the first two weeks of deer season. The other two checks--if only he had +three camps!--he put in envelopes with letters saying that, he was very +sorry, but the camp had already been reserved for the time they wanted. + +Then, in a flash of inspiration, he opened both letters and added a +postscript, saying that the camp was still available for the last week +of the season. He grinned ruefully as he did so and seemed to hear Al +saying, "'Most missed a pelt there, Ted." + +Ted assured the other deer hunters that his camp was reserved for the +first two weeks but open the third. He contemplated bringing his price +down to forty-five dollars for that week. Then he reconsidered. Most +hunters thought that hunting would be much better the first of the +season than it ever could be the last, and, in part, they were right. +Unmolested for almost a year, during the first days of the season game +was apt to be less wary. As compensation, during the latter part of any +season there were seldom as many hunters afield. Anyhow, deer hunters +who really wanted a camp would not let an extra fifteen dollars stand in +the way of getting one. + +Writing to the bear hunters, Ted accepted a tentative reservation that +would be confirmed as soon as he received a deposit of ten dollars. Too +many people made reservations with no deposit; then, if something arose +that prevented their honoring their reservations, they simply didn't +come. Anyone who paid money in advance would be there or cancel in +plenty of time to get their money back. + +Ted told the grouse hunters who'd sent a ten-dollar deposit that the +camp was theirs for the first two weeks of the season and he pondered +over the other grouse hunter's letter. + +Nobody at all had applied for woodcock season because, Ted decided, +woodcock are so uncertain. One of the finest of game birds, they are +also migratory. A few nested in the Mahela, but they were too few to +attract sportsmen. Depending on conditions, flight birds might and might +not be in the Mahela during the season and some years they by-passed it +completely. But when they came, they offered marvelous shooting. + +Ted wrote the second grouse hunter, a Mr. George Beaulieu, that the only +vacancy he had left was for the third week of grouse season. But was he +interested in woodcock? If he was, and if he would advise Ted to that +effect, Ted would be happy to call him long distance in the event of a +worthwhile flight. + +Tammie rose, yawned prodigiously and lay down to sleep on his other side +for a while. Ted shuffled the pile of letters, which he needn't put in +the mailbox because he was definitely going into Lorton in the morning, +and pondered. + +It hadn't worked out quite as he'd hoped it would, with the camp rented +continuously throughout six weeks of small game hunting and three of +deer. He figured with his pen on a discarded piece of paper. The camp +was definitely rented for two weeks of grouse and one of bear hunting at +forty-five dollars a week. That added up to a hundred and thirty-five +dollars. It was certainly rented for two weeks of deer hunting at sixty +a week, thus he would have a hundred and twenty dollars more. + +Ted sighed wistfully. Two hundred and fifty-five dollars was by no means +an insignificant return on their investment, even if they had put a +price on their labor, and they could look forward to the next hunting +and fishing seasons. If Al were here, they'd be happy about it and +eagerly planning more camps. + +But Al wasn't here, and all that mattered now was that, by the end of +deer season, Ted could be certain of having at least two hundred and +fifty-five dollars in cash. If John Wilson came, stayed with Ted for +twenty-one days, and paid him twelve dollars a day, that would be two +hundred and fifty-two dollars more. If Mr. Wilson got a buck that +satisfied him, and the buck's antlers had one tine nine inches long-- + +"Cut it out!" Ted advised himself. "Cut it out, Harkness! Count on what +you know you'll have, and that's two hundred and fifty-five dollars." + +Tammie, hearing Ted's voice and thinking he was called, came over to sit +beside his master. He raised a dainty paw to Ted's hand and smiled with +his eyes when the boy took it. Ted glanced at the clock. + +"Great guns! Twenty past one! We'd better hit the hay!" + +He shucked off his clothes, put on his pajamas and crawled into bed. But +even though he was tired, sleep would not come because he was thinking +of Al. How was his father spending this chilly night--and where? In some +cave perhaps, or some thicket. Ted tried to put such thoughts behind +him. Wherever Al might be, that outdoorsman was warm, dry and even +comfortable. But Ted's mind insisted on seeking the gloomy side, and he +was brought out of it only when Tammie whined. + +Instantly Ted became alert. Taught to whine but never to bark when a +stranger came near the house, Tammie was warning him now. The boy +slipped out of bed, and, in the darkness, he felt for his shoes and +pulled them on. He laced them so there would be no danger of tripping +over the shoelaces and soft-footed across the floor to take a five-cell +flashlight from its drawer and his twelve-gauge shotgun from its rack. + +Out of the night came a sound that has been familiar since the first +ancient man domesticated the first chickens. It was the sleepy squawk of +a hen protesting removal from its warm roost. Ted opened the door +softly, stabbed the darkness with his light and trapped within its beam +a figure that ran from the chicken coop toward the forest. + +"Get him, Tammie!" + +Tammie rippled forward, and the light magnified his bobbing shadow +twenty times over. He was not a dog but a monster, a nightmare from some +antediluvian swamp, bearing down on the fleeing man. He rose into the +air, struck the runner's back with his full weight, knocked him +sprawling and snarled over him. It was what he'd been trained to do and +it was all he'd do unless his captive tried too hard to get up. Then a +little fang-work might be necessary, but this prisoner wasn't even +moving. + +Ted shined his light into the terrified face of a young ne'er-do-well +known to his parents as Sammy Allen Stacey, to himself and a few of his +intimates as S.A., and to too many others as Silly Ass. + +His captor asked sternly, "What are you doing here?" + +"Uh--Nothin'." + +"What's in the sack?" + +"I--I just borrowed three of your hens!" Sammy started to sniffle. "I +was goin' to bring 'em back tomorrow! Honest!" + +"Guess I'll go back to the house," Ted said meaningfully. "When I hear +you scream, I'll know Tammie's working on you." + +"No! Don't! Please don't!" + +"Think you can stay out of other people's chicken coops?" + +"Yes! Yes!" + +Ted ordered, "All right, Tammie." The collie moved back and Ted +addressed the prostrate youth. "Get up and get out of here. If ever you +come back again, I'll just turn you over to the dog." + +Sammy rose and ran into the woods. Ted returned the three indignant hens +to their roost and addressed Tammie, "I'll bet that, if ever he is found +in another chicken coop, it won't be ours. You must have scared some +sense into him." + +Back in the house, Tammie sought his bearskin. Ted replaced the +flashlight and shotgun, took his shoes off and went back to bed. +Tomorrow he must go to Lorton but it needn't be bright and early +because, by Mahela standards, Lorton just didn't get up bright and +early. + +Ted slept until a quarter to seven. An hour later, with Tammie on the +pickup's seat beside him, he started down the road. + +He drove slowly because the business and professional offices in Lorton +wouldn't open for another hour. Coming opposite Crestwood, he saw Nels +Anderson, his former partner, working with a pick and shovel beside the +driveway. Ted eased his truck over and stopped. + +"Hello, Nels." + +"Py golly, Ted!" Nels' face could never reflect anything he did not +feel. "Is goot to see you!" + +"It's good to see you, too. How are things?" + +"We must not holler. Yah?" + +"Guess it never does any good. How's the boss?" + +Nels smiled sadly. "Mad." + +"What's he mad at?" + +"Me. I go to fix the freezer and he say, 'Get out of there, you crazy +Scandahoovian! From now on you work only outside and joost three days a +week!" + +"For Pete's sake! Why?" + +"He's mad." + +"Why don't you get a different job, Nels? One you can depend on?" + +"Yah, I like to. I do not like Mr. Thornton no more." + +"Why not?" + +"He gets mad. You hear from your pa, Ted?" + +"No." + +"I'm awful sorry," Nels said gravely. "I do not believe your pa, he +shoot this man like they say he did. If I could help him, I would." + +"Thanks, Nels. Be seeing you." + +"So long, Ted." + +Ted drove on, wondering. He'd had only two personal contacts with Carl +Thornton--the day he was hired and the day he was fired. He couldn't +really say that Thornton was not an unpredictable individual, given to +sudden rages, because he didn't know him that well. He had impressed Ted +as somewhat cold and carefully calculating. The boy shrugged. Nels was a +nice person. But an idea soaked into his head about as easily as +sunbeams penetrate mud. Probably he'd broken some rule which he had not +understood and still didn't understand, and Thornton was punishing him. +But putting him on halftime, and Nels with five children to support, +seemed like extreme punishment. + +Ted drove on to Lorton, where, even though most of the town's residents +were his friends, he could not help feeling self-conscious. Smoky +Delbert's shooting had brought Lorton more fame, or notoriety, than it +had known since its founding. The story had been in most of the State's +papers and gained wide distribution through a couple of news services. +Parking in front of the First National Bank, Ted left Tammie in the +truck, dropped his stamped letters in a mailbox and walked up the dimly +lighted stairs that led to the law offices of John McLean. Edith +Brewman, McLean's ageless secretary, had not yet come in but John McLean +was rummaging through her desk. + +He looked up and said, "Howdy, boy." + +"Good morning, Mr. McLean." + +Ted stood awkwardly, a little embarrassed and a little lost. Just how +did one approach an attorney and what did one say to him? John McLean +continued to paw through the desk and Ted studied him covertly. + +A huge, gaunt man in an ill-fitting suit, with unkempt gray hair and a +black tie askew on his collar, John McLean looked like anything save the +successful attorney he was. His dress and person were part of a clever +act. Slouching into a courtroom, he was more apt to provoke snickers +than admiration. But an opposing attorney who underrated him, and most +did, literally fell into his clutches. There was a silver tongue behind +John McLean's rather slack lips and a razor-sharp brain beneath his gray +hair. He grinned loosely now. + +"Edith's too darn' orderly. When she puts something away, I can never +find it. What can I do for you?" + +"I'm Ted Harkness, Mr. McLean." + +"I know." + +"I want to find out if you'll take care of my father." + +"Judging from what I've read in the papers, your dad's taking pretty +good care of himself." + +Ted said hesitantly, "He can't stay in the Mahela forever. Sooner or +later, they'll get him." + +"Sooner or later," John McLean said, "they get everybody. Wish people +would stop making a joke out of that old saw, 'Crime Doesn't Pay.' It +doesn't." + +He resumed poking through the desk while Ted stood uncomfortably, not +knowing whether or not he'd been dismissed. Two minutes later, John +McLean whirled on him. + +"Is your dad guilty?" + +"No!" + +"How do you know?" + +"He said he isn't!" + +John McLean chuckled. "Simmer down. I don't want to fight you. Just +wanted to find out if you had a good reason for thinking your dad +innocent." + +"Is the reason good enough for you?" + +As though forgetting Ted, the attorney opened another drawer and leafed +through its contents.... He said suddenly, "I'll take the case." + +Ted sighed relievedly, "Oh, thank you!" + +"Better save that until after the trial." + +"But--" + +"Save your worries, too." + +"Then you can help him?" + +"We'll figure out something. Who did shoot this Delbert?" + +"I wish I knew." + +"So do I." + +Ted said uneasily, "I haven't any money right now, but I'll have at +least two hundred and fifty-five dollars, and perhaps a great deal more, +right after deer season." + +John McLean murmured, "It'll help. The price of justice is too often too +blasted high." + +"Do--Do you want to talk with Dad soon?" + +"Where is he?" + +"Laying out in the Mahela." + +"The Mahela's a big place." + +Ted said honestly, "I don't know where he is. I haven't seen him since +he left but--I could get a message to him." + +"I won't ask you how. Does your dad mind laying out?" + +"No." + +"Then leave him until the time's right. It would have been better if +he'd given himself up right away; but staying out now will do more good +than harm. People, even prosecuting attorneys, can forget quite a bit in +a short time." + +"Is there anything else?" + +"When he comes in, or when you bring him in, I want to be the first to +talk with him. Can you arrange that?" + +"I'm sure I can." + + * * * * * + +That night, back at the Harkness house, Ted took Tammie's harness from +the closet and emptied it of junk. He replaced the junk with an equal +weight of food, added a handful of matches, thrust a pad of paper and a +pencil into one of the pockets and strapped the harness on Tammie. Ted +took his dog to the back door and let him into the darkness. + +"Take it to Al," he ordered. "Go to Al, Tammie." + +Tammie, who hadn't been able to see any sense in the pack but who saw +it now, raised his drooping ears and wagged his tail. He raced away in +the darkness. Ted had scarcely closed the back door when there was an +imperative knock at the front. + +He opened it to admit Jack Callahan. + + + + +7 + +A FLIGHT OF WOODCOCK + + +The sheriff stood tall in the doorway, his face unreadable, while at the +same time he seemed to strain forward like an eager hound on a hot +scent. + +Disconcerted, showing it and aware that he showed it, Ted fought for +self-possession. He said, "Well hello." + +"Hello, Ted." Callahan was not unfriendly. "How are things?" + +Ted tried to cover his confusion with a shrug. "Not much change." + +"You seem," Callahan was looking narrowly at him, "a bit nervous." + +"Is that strange?" + +"Guess not." Callahan was too casual. "It's probably a nerve-wracking +business. Uh--thought I heard you talking?" + +"You might have. I was talking to Tammie." + +"Your dog, eh?" + +"That's right." + +"I don't see him around." + +"I just let him out the back door. He likes to go for a little run at +night." + +"I'm darned," Callahan said, "if I didn't think I caught a glimpse of +you letting him out. Tammie looked awful big." + +"He's a big dog." + +Just how much had Callahan seen? Definitely, a pack-laden collie was not +going camping and Callahan would know where it was going. The sheriff +dropped into a chair and crossed his right leg over his left knee. + +"I know he's big, I've seen him before. But he sure looked bigger than +usual. That's a mighty good dog, Ted." + +"Yes, he is." + +"Highly-trained, too, isn't he? That dog will do almost anything you +want him to, won't he?" + +"Oh, sure," Ted said sarcastically. "Every night he sets his own alarm +for five o'clock. Then he lays and lights a fire so the house will be +warm when I get out of bed." + +"Aw now, Ted!" Callahan said reproachfully. "You know darn' well what I +mean! Why only the other night I found Silly Ass Stacey running down the +road like a haunt was chasing him. 'Don't go up there!' he told me. +'Don't go up to Harknesses! They have a man-eating dog and it just ate +me!'" + +Doubtless unintentionally, Callahan had given something away. The +Harkness house was being closely watched or the sheriff wouldn't have +been on the Lorton Road at the hour when Sammy ran down it. In full +control of himself now, Ted did not let himself reveal what he had just +learned. He said grimly, "Sammy was in our chicken coop." + +"_Hm-m._ Want me to pick him up for it?" + +"I doubt if he'll be as fond of chicken stealing from now on. Tammie +knocked him down and did a little snarling over him. He didn't hurt +him." + +Callahan grinned. "Figured that out all by myself; nobody who'd most +been eaten could run as fast as Silly Ass was running. Hope it does +teach him a lesson; if he gets rid of his oversized notions, he won't be +anything except a harmless sort of nut. Jail might make him vicious. But +that's what I mean about your dog. You've really got him trained." + +"I spend a lot of time training him." + +"You have to if you want results, but it's worth it. You have a dog you +can really work." + +"There are limits." + +"Of course. Of course there are. A dog's a dog. But I'll bet," Callahan +looked squarely at Ted, "that Tammie would even go find your father if +you told him to." + +"You're sure?" + +"Well, who could be sure? But I admire trained dogs no end and yours is +the best I ever saw. Call him back, will you? I'd like to see him +again." + +"I--" Ted hesitated and hated himself because Callahan noticed his +hesitation. "I don't know if I can. Tammie takes some pretty long +rambles at night and he may be out of hearing." + +"You'll have Loring on your tail if he bothers game." + +"Tammie doesn't bother anything unless he's ordered to do it." + +Callahan said admiringly, "That's where training comes in. This could +even be a story!" + +"What could?" + +"Why, your dad laying out in the Mahela. He doesn't have any grub except +the load he cooked the night Loring and I were here--and wasn't I the +dope not to see through that? He needs about everything. You can't take +it to him because you could be followed. But you have a big, strong, +well-trained dog. You, oh you might even make a pack for him. Then you +load the pack and send it to your dad. Who's going to follow Tammie? Get +it?" + +Ted looked at the floor. Coming at exactly the wrong second, Callahan +had seen enough to rouse suspicion but not enough to be sure of +anything. The boy conceded, "It's a story all right." + +"Could even be a _true_ story, huh?" + +"You're doing the guessing." + +"Oh, well," Callahan shrugged, "I didn't come here to bother you. But I +sure would like to see that dog of yours again and I haven't much time. +Call him back, will you?" + +Both hands in front of him, fingers tightly locked, Ted walked to the +back door. When Tammie took anything to Al, he usually ran. If he had +run this time, and kept on running, he would be out of hearing. If he +was not out of hearing, he would come back. Ted hoped Callahan didn't +see him gulp. If Tammie returned with the pack, it would be all the +evidence Callahan needed that the dog could find Al. But not to call him +would serve only to convince the sheriff, anyhow, that Tammie was on his +way to Al. + +Ted opened the back door and whistled. He waited a moment, whistled +again and closed the door behind him. + +"He'll come if he heard." + +"And if he didn't," Callahan commented, "he's a long way back in the +Mahela, huh?" + +"That's right." + +"Now that's strange," the sheriff mused. "I know a little about dogs. +You take an airedale, for example. He'll make long tracks, if he gets a +chance. But I always thought a collie was pretty much the home type. I +never figured they'd get very far from their doorsteps. Unless, of +course, maybe it's a trained collie that's sent away." + +"Dogs vary." + +"Of course, of course. There's no rule says two of any one breed have to +be alike. Couple of years ago, over beyond Taylorville, we had to get a +pack that was running wild and, believe it or not, there was a Boston +bull with them. Now who'd think a Boston bull--What's that?" + +"I--I didn't hear anything." + +"Well, I did. Ah! There it is again!" + +A second time, and unmistakably, Tammie's distinctive whine sounded at +the back door. Ted's heart plummeted to his toes and his throat went +dry. He was about to rise and let Tammie in--the only thing he could +do--but he was forestalled by Jack Callahan. + +"There he is. He heard you, all right. I'll let him in." + +He walked to the back door ... opened it. Ted hoped his gasp was not as +loud as it seemed. Wearing no pack, Tammie came sedately in, greeted +Callahan with a wag of his tail and tripped across the floor to sit down +beside his master. The boy bent his head to conceal ecstatic eyes. +Poker-faced Callahan showed nothing of what he must be feeling. + +"Just as handsome as I remember him!" he said admiringly. "That dog's a +real credit to you, Ted!" + +"He has just one little flaw," Ted said gravely. "Sometimes he thinks he +sees things he never saw at all." + +Callahan grinned engagingly. "Some people make that mistake, too. +Especially when there's deep shadow. How are you making out, Ted?" + +"All right. My camp's rented for five weeks and I may rent it for +woodcock season, if the flight comes in." + +"Loring told me there's flight birds at Taylorville. He said there's +quite a few, and he thinks there'll be a big flight." + +"Hope it comes here!" + +Callahan said soberly, "If it'll help you, so do I. I'm sorry you're in +trouble." + +"Trouble comes." + +"I know, but being the sheriff who makes it isn't the snap job it's +cracked up to be. I've had to hurt a lot of people I'd rather not +bother, but when I swore to uphold the law, I didn't make any exceptions +and I'm not going to make any. I hope you don't hold that against me." + +"I don't." + +"Just so you understand. A lot of people who cuss peace officers would +find out for themselves what a mess they'd be in if there weren't any." + +"I know that, too." + +"Then you know why I must bring your dad in. When I do, and I will, +he'll get every break I'm able to offer. By the same token, Smoky +Delbert may have some breaks coming. So long for now, Ted." + +"So long." + +Callahan left and Ted was alone with Tammie. He tickled the big dog's +soft ears. + +"The Lord watches over idiots!" he murmured. "He sure enough does!" + +What had happened was obvious. Disliking the pack anyway, Tammie hadn't +gone more than a couple of hundred feet before ridding himself of it. +Only he knew how he'd unclasped the buckles, but he'd managed. Of +course, when ordered to do so, he should have gone to Al. But he could +be forgiven this time. + +"I'd best get to bed," Ted told him. "I don't know where you left that +pack, but do know I'd better find it before Mr. Callahan comes back this +way. That man has sixteen eyes, and don't ever let's think he's dumb! He +came right close to tipping over our meat house tonight!" + +Ted was up an hour before dawn and had breakfasted by the time the first +pale light of day began to lift night's shroud from the great beech +trees. With Tammie at his side, he stepped out the back door and formed +a plan of action. + +He didn't know exactly how much time had passed between his whistle and +Tammie's appearance at the door, but it couldn't have been more than +fifteen or twenty seconds. Certainly the collie had needed some little +time to rid himself of the pack. It couldn't possibly be far from the +cabin. Ted petted the dog. + +"You lost it," he scolded gently. "Why don't you find it?" + +Tammie raced ahead twenty yards, whirled, came back to leap at and snap +his jaws within a quarter inch of Ted's right hand, then flew away +again. He continued running around and around, stopping at intervals to +snap. But though he never missed very much, he never hit either. + +Ted walked slowly, on a course parallel to the cabin, and he turned his +head from side to side as he walked. There were no thickets or windfalls +here. There was nothing at all except the big beeches. Wherever Tammie +had dropped it, the pack wouldn't be hard to see. + +Descending into a little swale, Ted flushed three woodcock out of it. +Their distinctive, twittering whistle, which Ted had always thought was +made by wind rushing through stiff flight feathers, sounded as they +flew. The boy's eyes glowed with pleasure. + +The ruffed grouse was a marvelous game bird and nobody who knew him +well, or even fairly well, would ever deny it. But there was a very +special group--Ted himself belonged to it--who held the woodcock in +highest esteem. Swift-winged and sporty, the woodcock had an air of +mystery and romance possessed by few other wild things. + +Measuring eleven inches, from the tip of his bill to the end of his +tail, the woodcock's plumage varied from black to gray, with different +shades of brown predominant. So perfectly did they blend with their +surroundings that, even though a hunter might watch a flying woodcock +alight on the ground, he was often not able to see it afterwards. Their +legs were short and their bills, with which they probed into soft earth +for the various larvae and worms upon which they fed, were ridiculously +long. But their eyes remained their outstanding characteristic. + +Placed near the top of the head, they were luminous and expressive, as +though, somehow, they mirrored all of nature. They were very large in +proportion to the bird's size. Whoever saw them would never forget them +and who knew the woodcock knew one of the finest and most delightful of +all wild creatures. + +Ted marked the trio down, but he did not approach them again. The season +was not open, and nobody could ever be sure of woodcock. Perhaps these +were stragglers. Maybe they marked the vanguard of a big flight that +would be in the Mahela when the season opened and maybe they didn't. +He'd have to wait and see and, even then, neither he nor anyone else +could be sure. Cover that might be alive with woodcock one day could be +empty, or hold only a few birds, the next. During the night, every +woodcock had often picked up and moved on. + +When he'd gone as far as he thought he should, Ted moved twenty-five +yards deeper into the woods and swung back on a course parallel to the +one he'd followed. He began to worry. + +The pack couldn't possibly be far because Tammie hadn't had time to go +far. It was good sized, so it should be easy to see. Ted made another +swing about. Two hours after he had started hunting, he stopped. He was +a half mile from the house, definitely the extreme limit Tammie might +have reached. The boy went back to cover the same area more +carefully.... He went through it a third time. By midday, he was wholly +baffled. + +The pack was not here. Where was it? Had Jack Callahan, nobody's fool, +seen more than he had admitted seeing? Had he slipped back after leaving +Ted and found the pack himself? It seemed improbable. Recovery of the +pack, so obviously for a dog and not for a man to wear, would be proof +within itself that Ted had intended to send Tammie to Al. And if +Callahan had the least reason to suppose that Tammie could really find +Al, he'd be in the house right now, insisting that he do it. Ted petted +the collie. + +"Why can't you talk?" he murmured. "Why can't you tell me what you did +with it?" + +Tammie licked his master's fingers and wagged his tail. Ted sighed. He'd +looked in all the places where the pack might be and hadn't found it. It +stood to reason that nobody else was going to find it either, or at +least, they wouldn't find it easily. Still worried, Ted went back to the +house and fixed a lunch. He thought of looking for the pack some more +and decided against it. There was no other place to look but there were +things to do. He hadn't been at the camp since the night Al was accused +of shooting Smoky. If he intended to rent it to hunters, he'd better go +see how things were. + +Ted chose to walk, for he had been doing a great deal of serious +thinking and had changed many of his ideas. Running a successful resort, +or even a successful camp, involved a great deal more than just being a +gracious host. In any city, or even any town, such a camp probably +wouldn't rent at all because it was so radically different from what +urban residents had come to expect in their dwellings. But it fitted the +Mahela, and for a short time each year, it would be appreciated because +it offered a refreshing change from conventional living. But there was +still more involved. + +Few people wanted to get into the out-of-doors merely for the sake of +being there. The place must offer something, and beyond any doubt the +Mahela's prime attraction was its deer herds. But nobody, regardless of +whether he was running Crestwood or renting camps, could hope to make a +living just from the three-week deer season alone. He would also have to +lure all the small game hunters and all the fishermen he could, and if +he didn't lure them honestly, they'd never come back. It stood to reason +that nobody who lived a couple of hundred miles from the Mahela could +know what was taking place there. They must be kept informed, and Ted +wished to walk now because he wanted to judge for himself whether or not +there would be a worthwhile flight of woodcock. + +The birds might be anywhere at all. Ted had flushed them from the very +summit of Hawkbill. But as a rule they avoided the thickest cover and +haunted the streams, bogs and swamps because they found their food +along stream beds and in swamps. With Tammie trailing happily beside +him. Ted followed the course of Spinning Creek. + +He flushed two woodcock from a sparse growth of aspens and watched them +wing away and settle on the other side of the creek. Then he put up a +single and, farther on, a little flock of five. In the clearing, almost +at the camp's door, another single whistled away and dropped near +Tumbling Run. That made nine woodcock between the Harkness house and the +camp. Definitely it was not a substantial flight and no hunter should be +advised to come to the Mahela because of them. But there were more than +there had been. + +A doe and two spring fawns were nosing about the apple trees. Bears had +been climbing the same trees, leaving scarred trunks and broken branches +in their wake. Black bears, of which there were a fair number in the +Mahela, would come almost as far for apples as they would for honey. But +they came only at night and did a lot of damage when they climbed the +trees. However, these tough apple trees had been broken by bears every +year they'd borne a crop and they'd always recovered. They'd recover +again, and Ted supposed bears had as much right as anything else to the +apples. He grinned. The fruit was gnarled and wormy, but it was a +woodland delicacy and woodland dwellers competed for it as fiercely as a +crowd of undisciplined children might compete for a rack of ice-cream +cones. + +Ted walked all around the camp, saw nothing amiss and unlocked the door. +He pulled the hasp back, went in--and saw Tammie's pack lying under the +table. Momentarily alarmed, he stopped. Only one person could have left +the pack! He picked it up and thrust his hand into a side pocket. He +found and pulled out a page torn from the pad of paper he'd inserted in +the pack and read the penciled note. + + Dear Ted; I was cuming to see you last nite. Tammy met me a sniff + from the dor and I snuck up and saw Calhan. Gess he wants to see me + rite enuf but I don't want to see him! + + Hope taking Tammy's pak don't throw you off. + + I can get along a good spel with the stuf in the pak and wudcok + seson cuming on. I've saw a mess of flite wudcok. Don't send Tammy + agen without you know it's safe and send him after midnite. I won't + be so far away he can't get to me and bak. Watch Calhan. He's + sharp. + + Your dad + + P.S. I got the kyote. + +Ted heaved a mighty sigh of thanksgiving. Al had the pack's contents and +there were three blankets missing from the camp. For the first time, the +dark clouds that surged around the boy revealed their silver lining. Al +was still a fugitive, but he had enough to eat and he was sleeping under +blankets. It seemed a great deal. + +Ted read the note again and smiled over it. A hunted outlaw, Al was +still abiding by the principles in which he believed. He might have been +justified in killing game for food, but the reference to woodcock season +indicated that he had done no such thing. Possibly--Ted remembered that +he had his coyote traps--he had caught a bobcat or so. The season was +never closed on bobcats and, if one could overcome natural +squeamishness, they were really delicious eating. Ted lifted the stove +lid, put the note within, applied a lighted match, waited until the +paper burned to ashes, then used the lid lifter to pound the ashes to +dust. + +He looked fondly at Tammie, who had been nowise derelict. Ordered to go +to Al, he had done exactly that and it was none of Tammie's doing if Al +had been within a "sniff" of his own back door. + +Ted said cheerfully, "Guess we'll go home, Tammie. But we'll come back +for the pack tonight, Mr. Callahan, or some of his friends, probably +will be patroling here and there." + +That night there were three more letters, two from deer hunters who +wanted the camp the usual first two weeks of the season and one from a +grouse hunter who wanted the first week. Ted advised them of the camp's +present status, put his letters in the mailbox and lifted the red flag +to let the carrier know there was mail to pick up. The next night there +were five letters, two of which had been sent airmail. Ted opened the +first. + + Dear Mr. Harkness: Your letter intrigued us no end. We haven't seen + a good flight of woodcock for ten years and didn't think there was + any such thing any more. Should they come in, by all means call me + and reverse the charges. My business phone is TR 5-4397; my home is + LA 2-0489. Call either place and we'll start an hour afterwards. + There'll be seven of us, and I enclose a ten-dollar check as + deposit. + + Cordially, + George Beaulieu + +The second airmail letter read: + + Bless you, Ted! You've started me dreaming of Damon and/or Pythias. + One or the other will do, but nothing else, please! By your own + invitation, you're stuck with me for the full twenty-one days. + I'll see you the day before the season opens. + + Gratefully, + John L. Wilson + +There was a check for a hundred dollars enclosed and almost grimly Ted +folded both checks in his wallet. He'd have to spend some money for +food, but not a great deal. The freezer was almost full and much of the +garden remained to be harvested. He stared at the far wall. + +He had not planned it this way. He had looked forward to a happy +venture, to enjoying and helping his guests, and if he made money in so +doing, that would be fine. Had things turned out as he'd planned, there +was already enough money in sight to build and equip another camp. But +that was not to be. Al had to come out of the Mahela some time. When he +did, they were in for a fight, and money would be a powerful weapon in +that all-out battle. They must win, and anything else must be secondary. + +The other three letters were from deer hunters who wanted the camp the +first two weeks of the season. + +Ted devoted the next fortnight to harvesting the garden. He dug the +potatoes, emptied them in the cellar bin and stacked squash and pumpkins +beside them. Bunches of carrots and turnips were stored in another bin, +and shelled beans were put in sacks. + +Almost every mail brought more letters, and two out of three were from +deer hunters. Ted rented his camp for the season's third week. Maybe +nobody could make a living from deer hunters alone, but anybody who had +enough camps, perhaps ten or twelve, could certainly earn a decent sum +of money from just deer hunters. + +The Mahela changed its green summer dress for autumn's gaudy raiment and +the frosts came. Woodcock continued to drift in, and two days before the +season opened, they arrived in force. Where there had been one, there +were thirty, and still they came. Ted drove into Lorton and called from +the drugstore. + +"Mr. Beaulieu?" + +"Yes?" + +"This is Ted Harkness, Mr. Beaulieu. The woodcock are in." + +"A big flight?" + +"The biggest in years." + +"We'll be there tomorrow," George Beaulieu said happily. "Hold the camp +for us!" + +"I'll do that, and anybody in Lorton can tell you where to find me." + +"Thanks for calling. We'll be seeing you." + + + + +8 + +TROUBLE FOR NELS + + +In the beech forest, just beyond Tumbling Run, a buck so young that +budding antlers did little more than part the coarse hair on its head +stamped a front hoof and snorted. Old enough to have a vast admiration +for himself and his own powers, but too young to have any sense, the +little buck snorted again and tried to sound as ferocious as possible. +Nosing about for any apples that might remain under the trees near Ted's +camp, he had stood his ground gallantly when Ted and Tammie approached. + +Not ten minutes before their arrival, he'd chased a rabbit away from the +trees and he was so impressed by that feat that he thought he could +chase anything. But when Ted and Tammie refused to run, he'd trotted +into the forest to do his threatening from a safer place. He snorted +again, more hopefully than angrily, and when he did not regain +possession of the apple trees, he looked sad. Ted grinned at him. + +"Junior's almost decided he can't bluff us, Tammie. Poor little guy! +He'd just about convinced himself that he's a real ripsnorter of a buck. +Oh, well, it's a hard world for everybody." + +Ted continued to string clotheslines between the apple trees. He pulled +them tight, tested their tension with an experimental finger and turned +thoughtfully back to the camp. It might be a hard world for adolescent +bucks, but if it weren't for the fact that his father was still laying +out in the Mahela, right now it would be a pretty good one for Ted. + +True to his promise, George Beaulieu and his six companions had arrived +the day before woodcock season opened. In his mid-fifties, Beaulieu was +branch manager for an insurance company. Of the six men with him, only +twenty-six-year-old George Junior, an insurance salesman who thought his +father was the greatest man in the world and who wanted nothing more +than to follow in his footsteps, had been less than middle-aged. The +other five were a filling station owner, a dentist, a toolmaker, an +electrical appliance dealer and a printer. Their party had been +complemented by two dogs, an English setter and a springer spaniel. + +There had been nothing sensational about any of them, including the +dogs. Except for George Beaulieu, his son and the printer, none of the +men had been even fair hunters. The three, far and away the best of the +seven gunners, had averaged three shots for every woodcock brought down. +The worst gunner, the electrical appliance dealer, who appropriately +enough was named Joseph Watt, had fired at least fifteen times for every +woodcock he put in his pocket. Yet Ted felt that the happy man had lived +through an uplifting and a near-sensational experience. + +Although unpretentious, his guests had definitely not been meek or +demure. Whoever missed an easy shot, which practically all of them did +at least twice a day, was needled mercilessly by the others. Not one +among them, under the best of conditions, could have made even a meager +living as a professional hunter. Yet they represented the best type of +present-day game seekers. + +They had come to shoot woodcock and they would have been disappointed +not to shoot some. But they did not pursue their quarry with the +calculating coldness of a Smoky Delbert or, for that matter, with the +intense concentration of an Al Harkness, when Al was after a pelt he +wanted. They were out for fun and they had fun, and although game +mattered, meat did not. There were so many woodcock that everybody, even +Joseph Watt, got some. But considering the shells they shot, the camp +rental, food, transportation and licenses, their game probably cost them +at least fifteen dollars a pound! + +After the first week ended and there seemed to be more woodcock than +ever--the flight was still coming in--they had decided that another ten +years might pass before they saw this again and stayed the second week. +They'd left only this morning, promising to be back next year if there +was another flight of woodcock, or for grouse if there was not. + +Ted hummed as he started toward the camp. The Beaulieu party had been +wonderful guests and certainly they were welcome back. If the Mahela was +good for them, they were just as good for the Mahela. + +Ted gathered up as much bedding as he could carry. He'd been a little +worried about it because he'd provided neither sheets nor pillowcases. +But lack of them hadn't seemed to worry the Beaulieu party in the +slightest. Most people who hunted all day were too tired by night to +care whether their beds were formal, or anything except comfortable. +Next year--always supposing his father and he still had the camp, Ted +thought that they would have to provide linens, too. Summer campers +spent more time in camp than hunters did, and they were apt to be more +particular. + +Ted hung the blankets and quilts on the lines he had strung and pinned +them securely. If they aired all day long, they'd be fresh by night. The +grouse hunters--Ted had corresponded with an Arthur Beamish--were due +some time after supper and there would be ten in the party. + +The small buck, that had been lurking hopefully near and awaiting a +chance to come back, snorted his astonishment when the bedding began to +blow in the wind and ran away as fast as he could. The little fellow +thought he was fully capable of dealing with anything natural, but +wind-blown bedclothes smacked of the supernatural. Ted lost himself in +thought. + +The camp was completely rented, except for the third week of small game +season, and it would return a little more than four hundred dollars in +rent. Added to that was the money he'd certainly get from John Wilson, +and the total was more than it had cost to build and furnish the camp. +Some of it would have to go for food and John Wilson probably would +expect good things to eat, but he'd get them. Ted had six woodcock, a +gourmet's delight, in the freezer, and he would add the legal two days' +possession limit of six grouse. He'd need more than that, but even after +buying whatever was necessary, he'd still have enough money to put up a +hard legal battle for Al when his father finally had to surrender. There +would be at least twice as much money as Ted had told John McLean he +would have. If more was needed, and it probably would be, he'd sell the +camp. + +Ted gathered up the dirty towels and wash and dish cloths, put them in a +bushel basket brought along for that purpose and replaced them with +fresh, clean laundry. The Beaulieu party, another proof of their +sportsmanship, had left the camp in fine shape, with the dishes washed +and stacked where they belonged and the floor clean. Tammie came in the +open door and Ted grinned at him. + +"Guess we can go, Tammie, and you'd better rest a bit. You're going into +the hills tonight." + +Tammie wagged an agreeable tail and trotted out to the pickup with his +master; Ted eased the little truck onto the road. + +He'd sent Tammie, with a load of food, the night before the Beaulieu +party arrived and everything had gone without a hitch. Tammie had left +shortly after midnight and returned two and a half hours later. The pack +was empty save for the note Al had thrust in it. + + Dear Ted: Tammy cum al rite. This works good, huh? I got enuf to + last me anyhow 2 weeks mor. Don't send Tammy befor. The les you got + to send him, the beter it is. Good luk and thanks. + + Your dad + +Ted sighed wearily. He'd hoped that, with passing time, the situation +would clear itself or be cleared. If anything, it was worse. + +Definitely out of danger, but due for a long convalescence in the Lorton +hospital, Smoky Delbert had told everything. Starting from the Fordham +Road, he had gone up Coon Valley with the intention of finding good +places to set fox traps. He'd carried his rifle because there was always +a chance of seeing a fox or bobcat, predators upon which there was a +bounty. He'd known Al Harkness was ahead of him, for Al's distinctive +boot marks had been left in the soft place where the spring overflowed +the Coon Valley trail. Nearing the three sycamores, and without any +warning at all, Al had risen from behind Glory Rock and shot. + +It was a simple, straightforward story and one that bore out other known +facts. By his own admission, Al had been in Coon Valley the same day. He +did wear boots with soles of his own design, and therefore they were +distinctive. Smoky Delbert, a woodsman of vast experience, might very +well have seen these tracks, in spite of the fact that Loring Blade had +missed them. Ted sighed again. + +The papers had printed Smoky's story and most were sympathetic. There +had even been a couple of resounding editorials demanding that Al be +brought in--regardless of the cost and effort that might be expended to +apprehend him--and face the justice he so richly deserved. But editors +were not the only ones who had swung to Smoky's side. + +Time, John McLean had asserted, made people forget. Only, in this +instance, it had made too many of them forget that Smoky Delbert was a +vicious poacher. He had, instead, become the wronged innocent, and when +Ted went into Lorton now there were those who averted their faces when +they passed him or even crossed to the other side of the street to avoid +meeting him at all. + +Carl Thornton had become something of a local hero. Nobody knew how the +news had leaked out, but everyone knew that Crestwood's owner was +paying all of Smoky's extensive hospital bills. That puzzled Ted, for +Thornton had never seemed the type to care about anyone's welfare save +his own. But he would do anything that worked to his own advantage, and +perhaps he thought it worth his while, at the price of Smoky's hospital +expenses, to have Lorton solidly behind him. There could be no doubt +that Lorton was there. + +"Cut it out!" Ted urged himself. "You don't like Thornton, but give him +credit, if credit's due." + +Ted swung up the Harkness drive and parked. While Tammie went off on an +inspection tour to assure himself that everything was as it should be, +the boy took the basket of laundry inside. He grimaced. Modern in some +respects, Al had by no means accepted the streamlined age as an unmixed +blessing. He'd bought a freezer and refrigerator because their +advantages were obvious. But he scorned washing machines and was sure +that, though clothes emerging from one might look clean, they couldn't +possibly be as pure as those that were washed on a scrub-board. + +Ted put the washtub on its stand, filled it with hot water, added soap +and went to scrubbing. He rinsed the laundry, ran it through a hand +wringer and hung it on a line stretched behind the house. + +An hour before sundown, he went back to camp to replace the bedding and +wind his clotheslines on a spool. He got his own supper, fed Tammie, +washed the dishes and had just finished putting them where they belonged +when the collie whined a warning. A car, followed by a second, came up +the drive and, a moment later, there was an unnecessarily loud knock on +the door. + +Ted opened it to confront a rather plump man, who was probably in his +mid-thirties. He was dressed in a gaudy wool shirt, hunting pants, +ten-inch lace boots, and around his middle was belted a hunting knife +almost long enough to be a small sword. His black hair was a little wild +and so were his eyes, but his smile was pleasant and his outstretched +hand was quite steady. + +"Ted?" + +"That's right." + +"I'm Beamish," the other stated, a little thickly. "B'-gosh, we found +you!" + +"You certainly did!" + +Ted smiled faintly. Hunters going into camp often did a little +anticipatory celebrating and evidently Arthur Beamish had been overdoing +it. + +"This the camp?" he asked. + +"No, the camp's farther up the road." + +"Good!" Arthur Beamish said happily. "You go in the woods, you go in the +woods! More woods, the better! That's what I always say! What do you +always say?" + +"Same thing." Ted grinned. "If you want to follow me, I'll show you the +way up there." + +"Ride with ya," Beamish declared. "Tha's just what I'll do." + +"You're welcome." + +Ordering Tammie to stay in the house, Ted guided his exuberant guest to +the pickup and opened the door for him. Arthur Beamish bellowed, "Follow +us, men! Ah, wilderness!" + +He sat companionably close and draped a friendly arm across Ted's +shoulder. "Lots of grouse?" + +"Plenty. You like grouse hunting, eh?" + +"Best darn' game there is!" Beamish exploded. "I rather get me one +grouse than forty-nine deer! And I get 'em, too!" + +"You do?" + +"Didn't you ever hear about me?" + +"I--" Ted hesitated. Obviously, he was supposed to know his guest. But +he didn't, yet to say the wrong thing might mean to give offense, +"Uh--aren't you--?" + +"Tha's right!" Beamish said happily. "I'm Beamish, the trapshooter! +Traps in summer, grouse in season! Br-br-br! Up they go! Bang! Down they +come! Every time!" + +Ted twisted uneasily. Three grouse was the daily bag limit. Nobody +should need, or take, more than that. He calmed himself. As yet, nobody +had taken more. He pulled in to the camp and stopped. + +"Fine camp!" enthused Beamish, who could see only that part of it which +was illuminated by the pickup's lights. "Best I ever did see! Great lil' +camp!" + +The other two cars stopped and the rest of the hunters got out. Even in +the night, there was that about them which at once set them apart from +the quiet Beaulieu party. They were younger, more restless, and they +fairly oozed that nervous sparkle which so often marks young executives. +They were also sensible--only Arthur Beamish and one other had been +over-indulging themselves. Definitely, the drivers of the two cars were +in full possession of all their faculties. + +The three beautiful setters that had ridden in a pen in one of the car's +trunks were as smartly turned out as the men. Obviously, they were +hunting dogs, the best money could buy. But this crowd had money to +spend. + +"Come 'round!" Arthur Beamish bellowed. "Wan'sha to meet Ted!" + +One by one, Ted was introduced to the rest of the party and as he met +them, he liked them. If they were young and restless, they were also +competent and talented and they had an air of belonging here in the +wilderness. Probably this was not the first camp they'd ever seen. + +"Let's go in," Ted suggested. + +Arthur Beamish bubbled, "You get the best ideas!" + +Ted let the men into the camp, watched closely as they inspected it and +knew definitely that they'd been in such places before. Their glances +were quick but all encompassing. + +One of them, and although Ted did not remember all the names, he thought +this one was Tom Strickland, turned with a smile. "This will do very +well. Do you know where we can get a wet nurse?" + +"A what?" + +Strickland grinned, "A sort of combination cook, fire-builder, +sweeper-upper, dishwasher; we'll want to spend our time hunting." + +"I think I can find somebody. Is nine dollars a day all right?" + +"Sure. Can you send him up tomorrow?" + +"Send him tonight!" somebody yelled. + +Strickland said scathingly, "I wouldn't inflict you wild hyenas on +anyone tonight. I'll cook breakfast." + +"Oh, my aching ptomaine!" + +Ted grinned. "I'm sure I can send somebody tomorrow. Everything's O.K., +eh?" + +"Right as rain." + +Ted got grimly back into the pickup and started down the road. Nine +dollars a day for fourteen days meant another hundred and twenty-six +dollars that probably would be sorely needed when Al had his inevitable +day in court, but Ted hadn't wanted to accept the job tonight because, +somehow, doing so would have seemed grasping. But he'd swallow his pride +and take it tomorrow. He must think of nothing except clearing his +father's name. + +Back at the house, Ted loaded Tammie's pack very carefully. Laying out +in the Mahela, Al would not expect and did not need luxuries. Ted packed +cornmeal and oatmeal, desiccated soup, a parcel of dried apricots, +powdered milk, sugar, tea, flour. But when everything else was in, there +was room for a parcel of frozen pork chops. Ted added them and a note. + + Dad: Everything's fine. There are grouse hunters in camp now and + there will be bear hunters next. Take care of yourself and let me + know what you need. + + Love, + Ted + +At five minutes past midnight, he strapped the pack on Tammie, took him +to the back door and let him out. Just as he did, there was an almost +timid knock on the front door. He jumped nervously. + +"Go to Al!" he urged. "Take it to Al, Tammie! And please run!" + +He shut the back door and perspiration broke on his brow as he stood +anxiously near it. Callahan, whose suspicions should have been +effectively lulled, was not lulled at all. He'd merely bided his time, +struck at the right hour and Ted was trapped. + +He crossed the floor on shaky legs and opened the front door to come +face to face with Nels Anderson. Ted gasped. + +His one-time working partner was pale and looked ill. Weariness had +left its impression in great blue patches beneath both eyes, but it was +not entirely physical weariness. Nels had suffered some terrible +shock--and in his extremity he had come to his friend. + +"Nels! What's wrong?" + +"I," Nels forced the shadow of his former smile, "am all right." + +"Come on in!" + +"I--I do not want to bother you. But I saw your light and--" + +"What on earth have you been doing?" + +"Walkin'. Yoost walkin'." + +"All night?" + +"I--" Nels looked at the floor. "I did not want to see Hilda. I--I lose +my yob." + +"How come?" + +Nels smiled again, but it was a sickly smile. "Mrs. Martin, she's +helpin' in the kitchen while huntin' season's on, she says, 'Nels,' she +says, 'the door on the walk-in cooler is stuck. I can't open it. Can +you?' I say I open it and Thornton comes. 'Told you to stay out of +here!' he yells. He was awful mad. 'Now get out and stay out!' So, no +more yob." + +"You'll get another one." + +"Oh sure. I get another one easy. You--You know where?" + +Ted said recklessly, "I know where you can work for the next two weeks. +There's a bunch of hunters in my camp and they're looking for somebody +to do their cooking and odd jobs. Get up there tomorrow morning and say +I sent you. The pay is nine dollars a day." + +Stars shone in Nels' woebegone eyes. "You mean it?" + +"Sure I mean it." + +"Yah! I go tell Hilda!" + +Nels had shuffled in the door but he seemed to float out of it. Ted +stared grimly at the black window. He needed the money himself, but Nels +had a wife and five children and whether or not they ate regularly +depended on whether Nels worked steadily. Ted paced back and forth, then +sank into a chair. + +Weariness overcame him and he dozed.... He awakened suddenly, sure he'd +heard something. Then Tammie whined for admittance and Ted got up to let +him in. He took off the pack and looked for the note he knew he would +find. + + Dear Ted: Tammy cum agen, as you know. I'm set rite nise now. There + is no need to send Tammy agen for a cuple weeks. Tel your bear + hunters that a lot of bears hang out in Carter Valley. + + Your dad + + + + +9 + +A BLACK BEAR CHARGES + + +Ted had had an awakening. + +Four days after he sent Nels to work for the Beamish party, Nels had +come back singing their praises in the loftiest tones. They were all +gentlemen of the highest order. Nobody cared what he cooked as long as +there was plenty of whatever it was. Driving Nels into Lorton, Mr. +Strickland had asked him to order groceries and had paid the rather +large bill without a murmur. That night they'd voted him the best camp +cook they ever saw and given him a ten-dollar tip. + +Of course, they were a little bit queer. He'd told them his name at +least a dozen times, but everybody insisted on calling him Hjalmar. They +pronounced it exactly as it was spelled, too. Nels didn't mind because +Hjalmar was certainly a fine old name. But it had taken him almost a day +to get used to it. + +They were wonderful hunters, especially that Mr. Beamish. The first day +he'd shot five grouse, the second seven, and on the two succeeding days +he'd shot five and seven. That made twenty-three grouse in four days +and he'd used just thirty-two shells. It must be some kind of record or +something, Nels didn't know. However, each day everyone else in the +party had paid Mr. Beamish money. Nels understood if Mr. Beamish scored +too many misses, he'd have to pay all the others. Still singing the +praises of the Beamish party, Nels hurried off to resume his duties with +them. + +Ted was left to ponder a problem that he had hoped he would never have +to face. + +Too many people--who were too often intelligent people--took game laws +far too lightly. They shot what they wished when they wished to, and few +of them ever thought that they were doing any wrong. Actually, in every +sense of the word, they were thieves. Bag and possession limits, insofar +as it was humanly possible to apportion wild game justly, were provided +so everyone might have a share and still leave some behind. Who took +more than his share, took from all the others. + +Beyond the shadow of a doubt, it was the duty of anyone who knew of game +law violations to report the violator to the nearest warden so the +proper action could be taken. But how could Ted report Arthur Beamish's +when Beamish was his guest? The boy still hadn't made a decision when, +the next day, Loring Blade came in. + +The warden said quietly, "I've been watching the grouse hunters in your +camp." + +"You have?" + +"Yes, and I arrested one of them this morning, a man named Beamish. He's +killed nineteen grouse that I know of, seven over anything he should +have had, in four days." + +Ted said reluctantly, "He's killed twenty-three." + +"How do you know?" + +"Nels told me." + +"Wish I'd known that, but I think he'll toe the mark now." + +"What'd you do to him?" + +"Took him before Justice McAfee. Mac fined him fifty dollars and a +positive revocation of his license if he violates any more." + +"But--" + +"But what?" + +"There's a twenty-five dollar fine for every illegal grouse. As long as +you were taking him in, you should have had him fined a hundred and +seventy-five dollars." + +"Not him," Loring Blade declared. "You can't hurt him too much by +hitting him in the pocketbook. His hunting privileges are what he holds +dear." + +It was, Ted decided after the warden had left, a smart way to do things. +The penalty for breaking game laws should be harsh, but fining Arthur +Beamish a hundred and seventy-five dollars would bother him less than a +ten-dollar fine might inconvenience a Stacey or a Crawford. However, +Beamish's hunting privileges really meant something to him. + +At any rate, the warden's method worked. Nels, who lost none of his +admiration for the grouse hunters, gave Ted a complete report at +intervals. Nobody in the camp took more than the limit after Beamish was +fined--and there was still another angle. Ted had always known that he +and his father were in the minority--sometimes it seemed that nobody +except he and Al cared what happened to the Mahela. But now the boy was +assured that others worked for its best interests, too. + +The grouse hunters had gone home and for a whole week there would be +nobody in the camp. There was nothing to worry about in the immediate +future. Al, as his last note indicated, was doing all right. The Beamish +party, who'd really liked Nels, had expressed their satisfaction in more +lavish tips and for the first time in three years, Nels' family could +get by for a while, even if he did not work. However, he could certainly +work all through deer season. The Andersons might face a bleak New Year, +but they would have a happy Christmas. + +Ted had decided to seize the week's interlude as a fine time to go over +the camp from top to bottom, but there was little to do. Nels would +never write a learned dissertation about Shakespeare, or come up with a +startling new aspect of the nuclear fission theory, but whoever hired +him got all they paid for, plus a substantial bonus. Working by the day, +in Nels' opinion, meant working twenty-four hours, if that were +necessary. The cabin was spotless. Even the blankets had been aired. + +With time heavy on his hands, Ted fretted. He collected the six grouse +to which he was entitled and put them in the freezer. For lack of +something else to do, he went twice more to the three sycamores near +Glory Rock, the scene of Smoky Delbert's shooting. He didn't find +anything, but he hadn't really expected to discover any new evidence or +clues. Looking for them had helped kill time while he waited anxiously +for the bear hunters. + +Deer were not especially hard to get, if all one wanted was venison; +there were does and young deer that wouldn't even run from hunters. But +the big old bucks with acceptable racks of antlers got big because they +were wary and they were difficult to bring down. Woodcock were sporting +and who hunted grouse successfully had every right to call himself a +hunter. Squirrels were fun, providing one hunted them with a rifle +instead of a shotgun. But unless one used dogs to bring them to +bay--and it was against the law to use dogs on any big game in the +Mahela--black bears were far and away the most difficult game of all. + +Keen-nosed and sharp-eared, they almost always knew when hunters were +about. Wise, they were well aware of the best ways to preserve their own +hides. As circumstances prescribed, they could slink like ghosts or run +like horses and they laid some heartbreaking trails. Fifty miles was no +unusual distance for a black bear to cover in a day and they were full +of tricks. Ted himself had followed black bears on snow and come to +where the trail ended abruptly. The bears had walked backwards, stepping +exactly in the tracks they had made running forward, and made a long +sidewise jump that always delayed their pursuer and sometimes baffled +him. + +Some men who'd spent their lives in black bear country had yet to see +their first one. It took hunters of the highest caliber to get them, and +thus Ted looked forward to those who would occupy his camp. But while he +waited there was little else to do and he spent some of his time in +Lorton. + +Just another sleepy little town for forty-nine weeks of the year, Lorton +was almost feverishly preparing for its moment of glory. If it was not +exactly the center of all eyes, due to its geographical position as the +town nearest the Mahela, it was the center of deer hunting. Every room +in its two hotels and three motels had long since been reserved and any +householder with a room to rent could have a choice of at least ten +hunters. In the next few weeks, Lorton would see at least twice as many +deer hunters as it had permanent residents. Its normally quiet streets +would have bumper-to-bumper traffic. Parking space would be at a +premium; there'd be crowds waiting in every eating place; stores would +sell more merchandise than they did at any other time of the year; and +any Lortonite who knew anything at all about the Mahela, even if his +knowledge was limited to how to get into it and out of it again, could +have a job guiding deer hunters, if he wanted it. + +In addition, every camping ground in the Mahela would have its quota of +trailers, tents and hardy souls who either slept in cars or made their +beds on the ground. Sometimes, in the event of heavy storms, these +venturesome ones got into trouble and were trapped until snowplows or +rescue parties reached them. But this fall the weather had been mild, +almost springlike, and there was every indication that it would continue +to be so. + +Twice, just after the grouse hunters left and again four days later, Ted +sent Tammie to Al. He would send him again just before deer season +opened, for that was an uncertain time. There would be hunters +everywhere and no assurance as to what they would do. Horses, cattle, +sheep, leaves fluttering in the wind and men had all been mistaken for +bucks with nice racks of antlers and punctured accordingly with +high-powered ammunition. If Tammie should be delayed and have to come +back in daylight, there was no guarantee whatever that some +trigger-happy hunter would not consider him a choice black and white +deer. Stocking Al with plenty of everything he needed meant that Tammie +would not have to go out again until deer season ended. + +Ted spent the two days prior to the opening of bear season cutting more +wood for the camp. On the afternoon before, he built and banked a fire +in the heating stove so that the camp would be reasonably warm and dry +when the hunters arrived. Then he prepared his supper and Tammie's and +was ready for the knock on his door when it sounded. He opened the door +and blinked in astonishment. + +The man who stood before him was young, not much older than Ted himself, +and very grave. He wore hunting clothes and hunting boots, but perhaps +because they were new, they seemed somewhat ill-fitting. Strapped around +his middle were two belts, one containing a knife with a blade at least +a foot long and the other supporting two enormous 45 caliber revolvers. +He was making every effort to appear nonchalant, but it was an effort so +strained that the effect was a little ludicrous. His eyes brimmed with a +lilting excitement and a vast anticipation. + +"Mr. Harkness?" + +"Yes." + +"I'm Alex Jackson." + +"Oh, yes." Ted extended his hand. "Glad to see you, Mr. Jackson." + +"As you can see," Alex Jackson indicated the two revolvers, "I'm ready +for them." + +"Uh--are you going bear hunting with revolvers?" + +"Oh, no! Definitely not. I have my rifle, too. It's just that one must +be prepared when the beasts charge." + +"Ah--What'd you say?" + +"I said--Oh, before I overlook it." + +Alex Jackson took out his wallet and counted out the thirty-five dollars +still due on the camp rental. Ted tried to collect his spinning +thoughts. Expecting a seasoned, experienced hunter, he'd met instead a +youngster who talked seriously about black bears charging. Or hadn't Ted +heard correctly? He slipped the money into his pocket and looked +sidewise at his guest. + +"If you'll follow me, I'll take you to the camp." + +"Would you have a little time to talk?" + +"Of course." + +"May I bring the fellows in?" + +"Certainly." + +The man turned to beckon, and somebody shut off the car's idling motor +and flicked off its lights. Five more hunters came into the house, and +Ted was introduced as they came. None were older than Alex Jackson. Two, +Alex's brother Paul and a youngster named Philip Tarbox, looked as +though they should be behind their high-school desks, rather than in a +hunting camp. Alex Jackson turned with a smile. + +"Now you know us. How do you like us?" + +"Fine," Ted murmured. "Uh--how much bear hunting have any of you done?" + +Alex Jackson's eyes were full of dreams. "None of us have ever hunted +any big game, but I've read all about it." + +"You've never hunted?" + +"Not big game," Alex Jackson said modestly. "You see, I just came of age +last month and thus was able to handle my own affairs. But I've always +wanted to hunt big game, especially bears." + +"Do--do your folks know you're here?" + +"Paul and I haven't any, and I am now Paul's guardian. But the other +fellows' parents do. Yes, of course, and they were glad to have them in +my charge. I've been counsellor for three summers at Camp Monawami. You +needn't worry about our ability to handle firearms. We've all hunted +rabbits. But I would like to ask your advice." + +"Sure." Ted felt weak. + +"Philip, Steve, Arnold and Wilson are armed with nothing but shotguns. +Do you think I should return to the town through which we just passed +and buy them rifles and revolvers?" + +"Gosh no!" + +"I'm worried," Alex Jackson said seriously. "Grimshaw, in his _Bears of +the North_, says that when the beasts charge--" + +"Grimshaw was writing about grizzlies. These are black bears." + +"Oh!" Alex Jackson elevated his brows. "You can say definitely that they +will not charge?" + +"Nobody can say that. They're wild animals." + +"I thought so!" Alex Jackson seemed vastly relieved. "Will a shotgun +halt them when they charge?" + +"Oh, yes." + +Ted wished he could sink through the floor. Expecting hunters, he had +his hands full of what, very literally, were babes in the woods. But +they had a great dream and a great hope, and regardless of who told them +that not once in 1000 times will even a wounded black bear charge a +hunter, they wouldn't believe it because they did not care to believe +it. They had come bear hunting to live dangerously! + +Alex Jackson nodded happily. "Thank you very much. Now will you please +show us the camp?" + +"Follow me." + +As he drove up the Lorton Road, Ted gave himself over to his own grim +thoughts. Obviously, there was much more to building and renting camps +than met the casual eye. One never knew who was coming or what they'd +do. Now he was certain only that this crew of naive hopefuls should not +venture into the Mahela alone. He wasn't even sure that they should be +permitted to stay in camp without supervision, but he'd risk that much +for at least one night. He parked in front of the camp, waited for his +guests and admitted them. + +"Just what I'd hoped for!" Alex Jackson exclaimed. "Semi-primitive +surroundings! Delightful!" + +Ted asked, "Can you handle the stoves and everything?" + +"Oh, yes! Oh, indeed yes! But perhaps you will tell us where we have the +best chance of encountering bears?" + +"I'll do better than that. I'll show you." + +"That's good of you. Would you care to start at daylight?" + +"I'll be here." + +"We'll be ready." + + * * * * * + +On arriving at the camp a half hour before daylight the next morning, +Ted saw that it was not burned down and that his young guests had made +no obvious blunders. Rather, with breakfast eaten and the dishes stacked +away, they seemed to be doing pretty well for themselves. But, even +though they knew what to do around a camp, the fact remained that none +of them had ever hunted big game. + +Ted exchanged greetings and looked out of the window. Renting hunting +camps might be a nice way to earn a living, but there must be easier +ones! The very fact that he'd rented his camp to them implied an +obligation. Six hunters who knew exactly what to do had little enough +chance of getting a bear. These youngsters had one in a thousand. But if +there was any way to do it, Ted still had to offer them their money's +worth and he considered himself responsible for them. Sending them into +the Mahela alone probably, and at the least, meant that they would get +lost. + +"Ready?" he asked. + +"Let's go!" Alex Jackson said happily. + +Ted led the six into the lightening morning. Since there was no snow, it +was futile even to think of tracking a bear. Without any experience, +these youngsters had no hope whatever of staging a successful drive, or +putting four of their number in favorable shooting positions while the +rest beat through the forest and tried to drive a bear past them. Only +Alex Jackson and his brother were armed with rifles, therefore they were +the only two who had even a slight chance of getting a bear, should one +be sighted at long range. But the possibilities of even seeing a bear +were so slim anyway that Ted had not wanted Alex to buy rifles for the +other four. + +There was just one faint hope.... This was the season of the Great +Harvest. Frost had opened the pods on the beech trees and beech nuts had +fallen like rain into the forest litter below. Tiny things, they were in +vast quantity. Deer, bears, squirrels, rabbits, raccoons, foxes, +practically every creature in the Mahela was spending almost full time +filling itself with beech nuts or storing them away. Winter, that would +bring hunger and lean bellies, was just ahead and well the wild things +knew it. + +If Ted posted his crew at favorable places among the beech trees and if +they sat absolutely quiet, one or more of them might at least see a +bear. Very definitely there was not much of a chance, but there was none +at all if they did anything else. + +Al had told of a lot of bears in Carter Valley and Ted took his hunters +there. He left them in various strategic places where scraped and pawed +leaves told their own story of being turned aside so that hungry +creatures might partake of the beech nuts hidden beneath. Lacking snow, +there was no foolproof way to tell just what had been scraping or +pawing, but something had and it might be bears. + +After the rest had been posted, Ted took Alex Jackson out to the rim of +Carter Valley. The slope pitched sharply downwards and rose just as +sharply on the other side, but here the valley was shallow, with perhaps +a hundred yards to its floor. It was possibly another hundred yards from +rim to rim, and the opposite rim was almost treeless. About a half mile +away across the treeless slope was a crumbling slag pile. Years ago a +vein of coal had been discovered here and mined as long as it paid off. +But it had ceased to pay and had been abandoned long before Ted was +born. Only the tunnel and the slag pile were left. + +The opposite slope was covered with beech brush that would be jungle +thick to anyone within it. But from this vantage point, eyes could +penetrate the brush. Any bear going up or down the valley, and one might +do just that, would certainly travel through the beech brush and any +hunter posted here would surely have some good shooting. Ted turned to +Alex Jackson. + +"You stay here." + +"Here?" + +"Yes. Move as little as possible and make no noise. Watch the beech +brush across there. Sooner or later a bear's going through it. I'll pick +you up tonight." + +"Right-o." + +That night, the bear hunters were still reasonably happy. All had seen +squirrels and feeding grouse. Four had seen deer and three had watched +turkeys feeding. Paul Jackson had thought he'd seen a bear, but it +turned out to be a black squirrel running on the opposite side of a +fallen tree, with only its bobbing back appearing now and then. + +For the next few days, the sextette stayed quite happy. Then deer, +squirrels and turkeys began to pall. They were proud bear hunters, and +so far they hadn't seen even a bear's track. The last day, +disappointment was in full reign. They'd not only told their friends +they were going to get a bear but, Ted suspected, Alex Jackson had done +considerable talking about the way bears charged hunters. + +Nevertheless, they all followed Ted back into Carter Valley and the five +younger hunters took the places assigned them. It was the best way. +They'd occupied these same stands for six days without seeing any bears, +but sooner or later the law of averages would send one along. + +With Alex Jackson in tow, Ted started back toward the valley's rim. Alex +Jackson touched his arm. + +"I say, would you mind if I just wandered about on my own?" + +"Not if that's the way you want it." + +Alex Jackson had arrived so full of dreams and spirit and now he seemed +so despondent. "I won't get lost--and I may find something," he said +quietly. + +"Good luck," Ted replied gently. + +Ted wandered gloomily out to the rim of the valley and sat down in the +place Alex Jackson had been occupying. Not every hunter can leave the +woods with a full bag of game, but Ted felt that, somehow, he had failed +this eager young group. His guests might at least have _seen_ a bear. +Carrying no rifle--he was the guide--and with nothing special to do, +Ted basked in the warm sunshine. + +An hour later, his eye was caught by motion down the valley. Coming out +of the semi-doze into which he had fallen, he looked sharply at it and +gasped. A bear, not a monstrous creature but no cub--it weighed perhaps +250 pounds--was coming through the beech brush. It was about two hundred +yards down the valley and halfway up the other slope, and it was not in +the slightest hurry. It stopped to sniff at some interesting thing it +discovered and turned to retrace its steps a few yards. Then it came on. + +Ted groaned inwardly. A rifleman posted here could have an easy +shot--and Alex Jackson had sat here idly for six days! The bear came on +for another sixty yards, lay down beside a huge boulder and prepared +itself for a nap. + +Ted crawled away. Bears have a remarkable sense of scent and good +hearing, but very weak eyes. This one couldn't see him. If it smelled +him, it certainly would not be where it was. If he was very careful, it +might not hear him. As soon as Ted thought he was far enough from the +valley's rim, he rose and ran back to where he'd left Paul Jackson. + +That alert youngster heard him coming and had his rifle ready, but its +muzzle was pointed at the ground. Paul Jackson lacked experience, but +not sense. He wasn't going to shoot at anything until he knew what was +in front of his rifle. + +Ted came close and whispered, "Come on! I've got one spotted!" + +"You have?" + +"Take it easy and quiet! He won't be there if you don't!" + +Nearing the valley's rim, Ted dropped back to a crawl. He peered at the +boulder and breathed easily again; the bear had not moved. He put his +mouth very close to Paul Jackson's ear. + +"There he is!" + +"Where?" + +"Just to the right of that big boulder!" + +"I see him!" + +Paul Jackson knelt, rested his right elbow on his right knee, raised his +rifle--and Ted groaned silently. The youngster's stance was perfect, but +so was his buck fever. The rifle shook like an aspen leaf in a high +wind. It blasted, and Ted saw the bullet kick up leaves twenty feet to +one side of the sleeping bear. + +The bear sprang up as though launched from a catapult and kept on +springing. Straight up the slope he went, and across the nearly treeless +summit. + +Ted shouted, "Shoot!" + +"Did you say shoot?" + +Paul Jackson was still in a daze, bewildered by this thing that could +not be but was. The bear was four hundred yards away when he raised his +rifle a second time, shot and succeeded only in speeding the running +beast on its way. He lowered his rifle and muttered, "I guess I'm not a +very good hunter." + +"Nobody connects every time." + +The bear was running full speed toward the old mine tunnel. Surprised, +its first thought had been to put distance between the hunter and +itself, but now it was planning very well. The old tunnel had one outlet +that led into a dense thicket of laurel. Certainly the bear knew all +about this and he would go into the thicket. Definitely, he was lost to +the young hunter. + +Then, within the mouth of the old tunnel itself, another rifle cracked +spitefully. The running bear swapped ends, rolled over and lay still. +Alex Jackson emerged from the tunnel. + + * * * * * + +Twenty minutes later, when Paul and Ted reached him, he was sitting +quietly beside his trophy and looking at it with unbelieving eyes. But +they were wonderfully happy eyes. Long ago he had dreamed his dream. +Now--and probably it never had been before and never would be again in +hunting annals--he had seen it come true. He looked dreamily up at Ted +and Paul and his voice was proof that, whether it's bringing down a +bear, shooting a hole-in-one, or playing a perfect game of chess, any +dream can be as bright as the dreamer makes it. + +"It charged," he said. + + + + +10 + +DAMON + + +In the parking lot beside Lorton's little railway station, Ted sprawled +wearily in his pickup truck. + +It had taken much of the day to bring Alex Jackson's bear out of Carter +Valley. The animal might have been skinned where it fell, cut up and +brought out piece by piece, but not one of the young hunters would hear +of such a thing. They had come a long way and worked hard for this +trophy; they would take it with them intact. It had been necessary to do +things the hard way. + +Dragging it would have injured the fine pelt, so Ted had lashed its feet +to a long pole and put a man on each end. The start had been easy, but +game carried in such a fashion has an astonishing way of adding weight. +By the time they'd traveled a quarter of a mile, instead of a mere 250, +the bear weighed at least 2500 pounds, and the panting carriers were +relieving each other every fifty paces. + +Finally, they'd reached an old tote road up which Ted could drive with +his pickup and the rest had been easy. They'd lashed the bear on Alex +Jackson's car and six exhausted but happy youngsters had piled in to +begin their long journey homewards. + +Ted grinned to himself. He'd spent a week with the Jackson party solely +because he'd thought they would get into trouble if he did not. No +guide's fee had been expected or asked, but, just the same, it might +have been good business. The fathers of three of the youngsters were +ardent hunters themselves. Ted had been assured over and over again that +they'd hear about the Mahela and be directed to Ted, far and away the +world's best guide. The youngsters were certainly coming back for +fishing season and to spend part of their summer in the Mahela and +they'd want the cabin. + +Ted's grin faded. Next year there might not be any cabin to rent. He +stretched wearily in the darkness and yawned. + +He'd reached home just in time to pack Tammie and send him on what must +be his last visit to Al until deer season ended. Sending him so early +might have been taking a chance, but when Ted next returned home he'd +have a guest with him, and letting anyone else see the packed Tammie +would surely be taking more of a chance. Ted had fixed a meal for +himself, taken two woodcock from the freezer and put them in cold water +to thaw. Then he had driven in to meet John Wilson. + +The little station's windows looked as though they hadn't been washed +for the past nine months and probably they hadn't. Lights glowed dully +behind them, and the clicking of the telegrapher's key sounded +intermittently. Ted looked about. + +The parking lot was full, and the night before deer season opened was +the only time throughout the whole year when it ever was. Though by far +most of the deer hunters came by car, some traveled by train from +wherever they lived to the city of Dartsburg, sixty miles away. Then +they came to Lorton on what some of the local wags described as the +"tri-weekly"--it went down one week and tried to come back the next. +Actually, it was a daily train, and in spite of a superfluity of jokes +and near-jokes about it, it kept a tight schedule. + +When Ted's watch read ten past seven, he left the pickup and went to +stand in the shadows on the waiting platform. The drivers of other cars +joined him, and here and there a little group of men engaged in +conversation. Then the train's whistle announced its approach and every +eye turned down the tracks. + +Ordinarily, the train pulled a combined baggage and mail car and one +coach, but on this eventful night a second coach had been resurrected +from somewhere and every window gleamed. The train hissed to a halt and +hunters started piling off. Without exception, they were dressed in +hunting gear; red coats, red caps and whatever they fancied in the way +of trousers and footwear. They lugged everything from suitcases to +rucksacks and, invariably, either strapped to the luggage or carried in +a free hand, rifles were in evidence. + +The men waiting on the platform went forward to greet hunters they knew +and bundled them off to cars. Jimmy Deeks, Lorton's only taxi driver, +called his "Taxi!" just once and was stampeded by a dozen hunters who +wanted to go to a hotel or motel. There was some little argument and, +after promising to return for the rest, Jimmy went off with as many +hunters as his cab would hold. + +The arriving crowd thinned rapidly and Ted looked with some +bewilderment on those who were left. He'd never seen John Wilson and +hadn't the faintest idea as to the sort of man he must look for. +Certainly he'd be alone, and the only hunters left were in groups of +three or more. Then Dan Taylor, the station agent, passed and saw Ted. + +"Hi, Ted." + +"Hi, Dan." + +"Waitin' for somebody?" + +"Yup." + +"Well if he ain't on this train, he's sure walkin'!" + +The station agent guffawed at his own not very subtle humor and moved +on. A second later, a man detached himself from one of the groups and +approached Ted. He was not tall, even in hunting boots he lacked five +and a half inches of Ted's six feet. He wore a red-plaid jacket, a +red-checked cap and black wool trousers that tucked into his boots. In +his right hand was a leather suitcase and in his left he carried a cased +rifle. Despite the gray hair that escaped from beneath his cap, he +walked with a light and firm tread and humor glinted in his eyes. + +He asked, "Are you Ted Harkness?" + +"That's right." + +The man put his suitcase down and thrust out his right hand. "I'm John +Wilson." + +Ted shook the proffered hand. "I--I thought you'd be different." + +"Don't let my grotesque appearance frighten you. I'm harmless." + +Ted blurted out, "You said in your letter that you're a doddering _old_ +man." + +"Ten years older than Methuselah." John Wilson laughed and the sound +was good to hear. "I'm glad to know you, Ted." + +"And I you. Shall we get out to the house?" + +"If you don't mind, I'd like to grab a bite to eat. The dining car on +the Limited was crowded and I couldn't get in." + +"The cafes will be crowded and we'll have to wait. I'll fix you +something, if you want to come along now." + +"Fine!" + +Ted picked up the suitcase, escorted John Wilson to the pickup and put +the luggage in the rear. About to open the door for his guest, he was +forestalled when John Wilson opened it himself and climbed in. Ted +settled in the driver's seat. + +"Mind if I smoke?" John Wilson asked. + +"Not at all." + +He lighted a pipe and sat puffing on it while Ted steered expertly +through Lorton's hunting season traffic. A happy warmth enveloped him. +He liked most people, but very few times in his life had he been drawn +so close to one on such short acquaintance. John Wilson was probably ten +years older than Al, but far from doddering. He was that rare person +whom age has made mellow rather than caustic. + +Then they were on the Lorton Road and started into the Mahela. John +Wilson spoke for the first time since leaving the station. + +"They crowd in." + +"For deer season they do," Ted agreed. "The day after it ends, you could +shoot a cannon down Main Street and never hit a person." + +They passed a tent set up beside the road, and a gasoline lantern +burning inside gave its walls a ghostly translucence. There was a neat +pile of wood beside it and wood smoke drifted from a tin pipe that +curled through the wall. The car in which the campers had come was +backed off the road. It was a good camp and as they passed Ted was aware +that John Wilson knew it was good. But he said nothing, and Ted had the +impression that he did not talk unless he had something worthwhile to +say. + +A quarter mile beyond the camp, the truck's probing lights reflected +from the startlingly bright eyes of a deer. Ted slowed. Deer were always +running back and forth across the road and, since bright lights dazzled +them, they would not always get out of the way. They came closer and the +lights revealed very clearly a magnificent buck. + +So alert that every muscle was tense, he stood broadside. One rear leg +was a bit ahead of the other, the animal was poised for instant flight. +His antlers were big and branching, and in the car lights they looked +perfectly symmetrical. It was a splendid creature, one that would +command attention anywhere. After ten seconds, it leaped into the forest +and disappeared. + +John Wilson said, "A nice head." + +He spoke as though the buck had delighted and warmed him, but there was +in his voice none of the babbling enthusiasm which some hunters, upon +seeing such a buck, might express. Obviously, he had seen big bucks +before. + +Ted commented, "He was a darn' big buck." + +"As big," and a smile lurked in John Wilson's voice, "as your Damon and +Pythias?" + +Ted answered firmly, "No sir. He was not." + +"Then I am in the right place?" + +"I hope so, Mr. Wilson." + +"It'd be just as simple to call me John." + +Ted grinned. "All right, John." + +They passed more tents and trailers, swerved to miss a wild-eyed doe +that almost jumped into the truck. Finally, Ted drove thankfully up the +Harkness driveway. The house was stocked with everything they needed, +and as far as he was concerned, he was willing to stay there until deer +season ended. At any rate, he hoped he'd have to do no more night +driving. + +He escorted his guest in, snapped the light on and waited for what he +thought was coming next. It came. John Wilson glanced about and he +needed no more than a glance. It was enough to tell him what was here +and his voice said he liked it. + +"You do all right for yourself." + +"Glad you like it. If you'll make yourself at home, I'll have something +to eat rustled up in a little while." + +"Let me help you." + +"It's a one-man job." + +John Wilson reclined in an easy chair while Ted went into the kitchen. +He put a great slab of butter in a skillet, let it brown, seasoned the +brace of woodcock, put them into the pan, covered it and turned the +flame lower. He prepared a fresh pot of coffee, biscuits, potatoes and a +vegetable. All the while, he waited nervously for Tammie to whine at the +door. There'd have to be some nice timing when the collie returned. Ted +must slip out, strip the harness off and let the dog in without letting +John Wilson know he'd worn a harness. + +When the meal was ready and Tammie still had not come, Ted's nervousness +mounted. The dog was a half hour late already. What could have happened +out in the Mahela? Ted put the dinner on the table and tried to sound +casual as he announced, "Chow's ready." + +"This is 'chow'?" John Wilson chided him. "Butter-browned woodcock is +deserving of a better name. Let me at it!" + +He cut a slice of the dark breast and began to eat it. "_Mm-m!_ That's +good! Something wrong, Ted?" + +"Yes--uh--That is, no." + +"You're nervous as a wet cat." + +"My dog's out and I'm a little worried about--There he is now! Go right +ahead and eat." + +Tammie's whine sounded again and Ted slipped out the back door. Hastily +he knelt to strip the harness off and take Al's note from the pocket. +Then he threw the harness aside--he'd get it in the early +morning--tucked the note in his pocket and, with Tammie beside him, went +into the house. John Wilson stopped eating to admire. + +"That's a beautiful collie. What's his name?" + +"Tammie, and he's just as good as he looks." + +Tammie sniffed delicately at their guest, received a pat on the head and +went to stretch out on his bearskin. John Wilson glanced at him again. + +"Aren't you afraid to let him run?" + +"After tomorrow, poor Tammie will be confined to quarters until deer +season ends." + +John Wilson nodded. "That's wise, some hunters will shoot at anything. +What time do you plan to get out in the morning?" + +"Whenever you care to leave." + +"Isn't it traditional for hunters to be in the woods at dawn?" + +"That's right." + +"Then let's not violate revered custom. Where do these two big bucks +hang out?" + +"They've been on Burned Mountain for a long while. Hunters may put them +off there and then again they may not." + +"Where do they lurk during deer season?" + +"Nobody knows exactly," Ted admitted. "They've been seen in a dozen +parts of the Mahela. Sometimes they've been 'seen' in a dozen different +places at the same hour on the same day. We'll just have to plan as we +go along." + +"That suits me. I'll help with the dishes." + +"I'll do them." + +"You'll spoil me!" + +"Take it easy while you can. You're in for some rough days." + +John Wilson resumed sitting in the easy chair. Before Ted washed the +dishes, he stole a glance at Al's note. + + Ted; I got enuf. Don't send Tammy agen til deer seson ends. I wish + your sport luk. I saw one of the big buks on burned mountin today. + Gess you'll find both. + + Your dad + +Ted nodded, satisfied. If Damon and Pythias were still on Burned +Mountain, he knew exactly where to go. He touched the note to the flame, +waited until it burned to ashes, swept them into a wastebasket and +joined his guest. + +John Wilson, looking at the dying embers in the fireplace, asked +quietly, "Got your campaign mapped, General?" + +"Only the first skirmish. I know--That is, I'm pretty sure that Damon +and Pythias are still on Burned Mountain." + +"Then at least we'll know where to find them." + +"I believe so. Do you mind if I carry a rifle?" + +"Why, I hope you do." + +"I won't shoot either Damon or Pythias, even if I should get a shot," +Ted promised. "But I would like to get a buck. It helps a lot on the +meat bills." + +"By all means get one. Pretty warm for this time of year, isn't it?" + +"Too warm. Some snow would be a great help." + +They exchanged more hunting talk, then went to bed. + +An hour before dawn the next morning, after ordering Tammie to stay in +the house, Ted closed the back door behind him and started up Hawkbill +with his guest. He walked slowly, for Hawkbill was a hard climb for a +young man, even in daylight. Though John Wilson was by no means +doddering, neither was he young. Ted stopped to rest at judicious +intervals. + +The darkness lifted slowly, but it was still a thick curtain of gray +when, in the distance, a fusillade of shots rang out. Ted grimaced. Some +fool, who couldn't possibly see what he was shooting at, had shot +anyhow. That was one way hunters managed to kill each other instead of +game. + +As daylight became stronger, shots were more frequent. Some quite near +and some far-off, the sounds were a ragged discord, with now four or +five hunters shooting at the same time, then a single shot or succession +of shots, then a lull with no shooting. Hunters were seeing deer and +shooting, but definitely not all of them were connecting. As Ted knew, +many a deer, many a herd of deer, had emerged unhurt after a hundred or +more shots were fired at them. + +Ted mounted the crest of Hawkbill and turned to offer a hand to his +panting guest. John Wilson wiped his moist brow. + +"Whew! Why didn't you tell me we were going to climb the Matterhorn?" + +Ted grinned sympathetically. "You're up it now, and we can see what +there is to be seen." + +Ted buttoned his jacket. The weather was unseasonably warm, but here on +Hawkbill's summit, little fingers of cold that probed at his exposed +nose and throat told of chillier things to come. While the temperature +made no difference, snow would increase their chances a hundred per +cent. He studied Burned Mountain. + +Spread out in a thin skirmish line, a party of red-clad hunters were +about halfway up it. A deer fled before one of them and the man stopped +to raise his rifle. There sounded the weapon's sharp bark, but the deer +ran on and disappeared in some brush. + +John Wilson said, "He should have had that one with a slingshot." + +"Wonder if he could tell whether it was a buck or doe. I--There he is!" + +"There who is?" + +"One of those big bucks! See him?" + +"No." + +"A quarter of the way below the summit. Look a hundred yards to the +right of that light-colored patch of ground and thirty yards down +slope." + +"I still don't--Oh, my gosh!" + +He uncased his binoculars, put them to his eyes, focused and stared for +a full three minutes. When he took the glasses down, there was a gleam +of purest ecstasy in his eyes and at the same time a little awe. + +"There isn't a buck that big!" he murmured breathlessly. + +"Look again," Ted invited. "Wonder where the dickens the other one is." + +He searched the briers, a little puzzled. Damon and Pythias were known +as such because, except during the rutting season, they were never far +apart. But definitely only one of the two huge deer was on Burned +Mountain now. It was very unusual. + +Ted shrugged. There was no unchangeable rule that said the two big bucks +must always be together. Maybe the sound of shooting or the hunters +going into the woods had caused them to separate, or perhaps they had +parted for reasons of their own. + +The shooting continued spasmodically, and not too far away came the +outlandish cacophony of shrieks and shouts that meant a hunting party +was staging a deer drive. A thin voice screamed, "He's coming your way, +Harvey!" + +As Ted continued to watch the big buck, John Wilson became restless. + +"Let's go after him." + +"Wait a bit," Ted advised. "It isn't going to be that easy." + +The climbing hunters, about a hundred and fifty yards apart, broke out +of the forest and into the briers. Two of them were so placed that, +unless he moved, they would pass the big buck at almost equal distances. +But the buck let them pass without so much as flicking an ear. He knew +very well exactly where both hunters were, but he was no fawn to panic +because men were in the woods. The buck had a good hiding place, knew +it, and he had eluded hunters this time merely by doing nothing. + +"He's smart, all right." John Wilson had appreciated the strategy, too. +"What do you suggest, Ted?" + +"I'm going over to flush him out. You stay here and let me know what he +does." + +"But--What good will that do?" + +"Deer are pretty much creatures of habit. He's in that bed now because +he likes it. If he doesn't become too frightened today, the chances are +good, both that he'll go into the same bed tonight and that he'll do the +same thing when he's flushed out of it tomorrow. Only you'll be waiting +for him." + +John Wilson nodded. "That listens all right." + +"Wave your red hat when he goes," Ted directed. "I'll see that and wait +for you, and we can figure our next move afterwards." + +Unencumbered by an older companion, Ted half-ran down the opposite slope +of Hawkbill and started swiftly up Burned Mountain. He had no hope of +seeing the buck, but just going to the bed where it had been lying was +within itself no easy task. Viewed from the summit of Hawkbill, various +parts of Burned Mountain had various distinguishing characteristics. But +once on the mountain itself, everything looked alike. Ted emerged from +the forest into the briers, crashed a way through them, and when he +thought he was very near the place where the buck had bedded, he turned +to see John Wilson waving his hat. + +Ted sat down for what he was sure would be a long wait. He had climbed +to this place in twenty-five minutes, but he was eighteen years old. + +An hour later, he heard John Wilson's, "Hall-oo!" + +"Here!" Ted yelled. + +Carrying his hat, streaming perspiration, but entirely happy, John +Wilson panted up to join him. + +"He went out," he said cheerfully, "and I'll swear he flushed no more +than twenty yards ahead of you! Thought sure you'd see him." + +"Where'd he go?" + +"Quartered up the mountain and crossed the summit just a little to the +right of some white birches." + +Ted nodded. The course described by John Wilson had kept the big buck in +thick cover all the way. It was the route he might have been expected to +take, except that there were a dozen others with brush just as thick. +However, there was every chance that he would go the same way a second +time and tomorrow morning John Wilson would be posted in the birches +while Ted tried to drive the buck through. + +"What's it like on top?" John Wilson asked. + +"Patches of laurel and rhododendron. We'll go see what we can do." + + * * * * * + +That night, tired and hungry, the pair made their way down Burned +Mountain. They hadn't seen the monster buck again, but were in no wise +disheartened. There were twenty days of the season left and John Wilson +had had, and failed to take, a chance at a very good eight-point buck. +Obviously, he'd meant it when he said he wanted only the biggest. + +Ted prepared supper and washed the dishes afterwards.... The two hunters +were sprawled in the living room when Tammie whined to announce that +someone was coming. A minute later there was a knock at the door and Ted +opened it to confront George Stacey. + +"Come on in, George." + +"Cain't. Gotta git home. Thought I'd stop an' tell ya that Thornton, +down to Crestwood, fetched in one of them big bucks today." + +"He did?" + +"Sure did, an' hit's big enough for ary two bucks. Go see hit. Hit's +a'hangin' on the game pole." + +"Thanks, George." + +"Yer welcome. Go see hit." + +"Want to go?" Ted asked his guest. + +"Sure thing!" + +The night air had a distinct bite, and a definite promise of freezing +cold to be. Ted turned the heater on, and after they'd gone a mile or +so, the pickup's cab filled with welcome warmth. + +As soon as they came in sight of Crestwood it was evident that something +unusual had occurred at that resort. Carl Thornton provided parking +space for his guests. Now all the available area was filled and parked +cars lined both sides of the driveway. Ted backed into one of the few +empty spaces. He and John Wilson got out to join the crowd at the game +rack. + +Crestwood's hunters had brought in seven other bucks this opening day +and three of them were big deer. But the biggest seemed puny beside the +monster that the crowd was eyeing. Its antlers were laced close to the +game pole, but its outstretched hoofs nearly touched the ground. If this +buck did not set a new record, it would come very close to so doing. + +John Wilson murmured, "Gad, what a buck! Is the other as big?" + +"They're twins." + +Ted went up for a closer look. He put his hand on the hanging buck and +set it to swinging gently. He gasped. As unobtrusively as possible, +hoping none had noticed his outburst, he drew back into the crowd. + +But several matters that had been very cloudy had become very clear. + + + + +11 + +PYTHIAS + + +Ted lingered on the fringes of the crowd, and in his mind's eye he +conjured up an image of Nels Anderson. Nels always earned his pay plus a +little bit more, and Ted wondered why Carl Thornton had fired him. But +he wondered no more. + +The great buck hung on Crestwood's game rack and bore Carl Thornton's +deer tag, but it had never been killed today. The weather, though +colder, still had not dipped to the freezing point and the big buck was +frozen solidly. The others hung limp and pliable. + +Failing to persuade Ted to hunt the big bucks for him, obviously +Thornton had hired someone else and Ted's thoughts swung naturally to +Smoky Delbert. Smoky would do anything for money and he knew how to +bargain. If he'd hired Smoky, Thornton must have paid a stiff price and +the rest was simple. + +Crestwood's walk-in refrigerator had a freezing compartment that would +accommodate a side of beef. It had been necessary only to bring the buck +to Crestwood--no impossible or even difficult feat--hang it in the +freezer, and on this, the first day of the season, bring it out again. +Nels, of course, had been fired solely to keep him from discovering what +was in the freezer. It would hurt both Thornton and Crestwood if it were +known that Thornton had bought his buck. The favorable publicity for +which he'd hoped, and which he'd certainly get unless Ted exposed him, +would turn to scathing condemnation. + +Alan Russell, Crestwood's part-time bookkeeper, broke from the crowd and +came to Ted's side. + +"Hello, Ted." + +"Hi, Alan." + +"Some buck, eh?" + +"Sure is," Ted said wryly. "I can imagine Thornton telling his adoring +guests just what a Daniel Boone he had to be to get it." + +"After this season he won't be telling 'em at Crestwood." + +"Why not?" + +"Thornton's sold out." + +"Sold out!" + +"That's right." + +"When did all this happen?" + +"It's been hanging fire for a couple of months, but the prospective +buyers met Thornton's price only three days ago. It was a stiff price." + +"Are you sure?" + +"I'm handling the book work." + +Ted said happily, "Alan, I love you!" + +The other looked suspiciously at him. "Do you feel all right?" + +"I never felt better!" + +Ted's heart sang. Game laws were game laws, and they applied to Carl +Thornton as well as to everyone else. But Crestwood was important to the +economy of the Mahela. One did not jeopardize the livelihood of those +who worked there, or the sorely needed money Crestwood's guests spent in +the Mahela, because of a single illegally killed buck or half a dozen of +them. But now Ted was free to act. He sought and found John Wilson. + +"Shall we go?" + +"Guess we might as well. Looking holes right through this buck won't +bring the other one in range. Wonder how the lucky cuss got it?" + +"I have an idea." + +"I expect you have. _Br-r!_ It's getting cold." + +"It will be colder. We have to hurry." + +John Wilson looked at him curiously. "What's up?" + +"I'll tell you in a minute." + +They got into the pickup. Ted started the motor that had not yet had +time to cool completely, and a trickle of warmth came from the heater. +John Wilson looked sharply at Ted. + +"All right. Give." + +"Did you notice anything unusual about that buck?" + +"Only that it's the biggest I ever saw." + +"It's also frozen solid." + +"I--I don't understand." + +"The weather hasn't been cold enough to freeze deer. Thornton never +killed that buck today." + +"Then he--?" + +"That's it exactly." + +There was a short silence. John Wilson broke it with a quiet, "Is there +a story behind it?" + +"There is." + +"Want to tell me?" + +Ted told of his love for the Mahela, and of a heart-rooted desire to +dedicate his life to helping people enjoy it. He spoke of his work at +Crestwood, and of his great dream to have a similar place, one day. He +related as much as he knew, which was as much as anyone knew, of the +story of Damon and Pythias. He told of Carl Thornton's commissioning him +to get both bucks before the season opened, of his refusal to do so and +the consequent loss of his job. + +He described the camp, and how and why it was built. Then the bombshell; +Smoky Delbert's shooting and Al a fugitive in the Mahela. He spoke of +his father's near-passionate interest in true conservation, and of his +near-hatred for those who violated the sportsman's code. However, aware +of Crestwood's importance to the Mahela, knowing that this violation +would hurt and perhaps ruin Thornton, Al himself would not have reported +it. But now that Thornton was leaving, was there any reason why he +should be shielded? + +There was another brief silence before John Wilson said quietly, "Don't +do it, Ted." + +"You mean let him get away with it?" + +"Under any other circumstances," John Wilson said, "I'd say drive into +Lorton and report him to the game warden. As things are with you now, if +you do, you'll hate yourself. How are you going to decide exactly +whether you turned him in to settle a grudge or because you're a +believer in conservation? I agree that he should be arrested and fined. +But arresting him won't return the buck to Burned Mountain. It won't do +anything at all except bring Thornton a hundred-dollar fine, and he can +spare the money. Yes, I'd say let him go and good riddance." + +"But--" + +"You asked my advice and you got it. If you turn him in, you'll hurt +yourself more than you will him. By all means report law violators, but +never let even a suspicion of personal prejudice influence your report. +It won't work." + +"I guess you're right." + +"I hope I am." + +That night the temperature fell to zero, and every buck on every game +rack in the Mahela froze solid. There was no longer any evidence +whatever to prove that Damon, as Ted thought of the great buck on +Crestwood's game rack, had been taken by other than legal means. + +Even if Ted wanted to do something now, his chance was gone. + + * * * * * + +For twenty days, always leaving the Harkness house before dawn and never +getting back until after dark, Ted and his guest had hunted Pythias. + +They had seen deer, dozens of them, and Ted had dropped a nice +eight-point so close to his house that they had needed only fifteen +minutes to dress it out, slide it in over the six inches of crisp snow +that now lay in the Mahela and hang it on the game rack. John Wilson had +had his choice of several bucks, and at least four of them had been fine +trophies. But he had come to hunt the big buck that still lurked on +Burned Mountain and he was determined to get that one or none. + +It looked as though it would be none, Ted reflected as he sat in front +of the blazing fire, tearing a bolt of red cloth into strips. Pythias, +who had sucked in his woodcraft with his mother's milk, had only +contempt for any mere human who coveted his royal rack of antlers. + +The second day of the season, giving John Wilson ample time to post +himself in the white birches, Ted had gone to the bed in which they'd +seen Pythias on the first day. A small buck and two does had gone +through, but Pythias had not. Most deer have favorite runways, or paths, +that are as familiar to them as sidewalks are to humans. Pythias seldom +used one, and he never took the same route twice in succession. + +Hunted hard every day, he hadn't let himself be chased from the top of +Burned Mountain. Staying there, he knew what he was doing. Sparsely +forested, the top of the mountain was given over to a devil's tangle of +twining laurel and snarled rhododendron. Some of the stems from which +the latter evergreen grew were thick as tree trunks, and some of the +winding, snaking branches were thirty feet long. It was heartbreaking +work just to go through one, and impossible for a man to do so without +making as much noise as a running horse. Once within the laurel or +rhododendron, and some thickets were a combination of both, it was +seldom possible to see seven yards in any direction. Often, visibility +was restricted to seven feet. + +Pythias haunted those thickets that varied from an eighth of an acre to +perhaps eighty acres. Chased out of one, he entered another, flitting +like a gray ghost through the scrub aspen that separated them. Then he +lingered until the hunters came and entered another thicket. Only when +going through the aspens, where he knew very well he could be seen, did +he run. In the thickets he walked or slunk, and he never made a foolish +move. + + * * * * * + +Every day there'd been snow--and John Wilson and Ted had had tracking +snow for seventeen of the twenty days--they'd found Pythias' bed and +his fresh tracks. His hoofmarks were big and round, and they indicated +him as surely as a robe of ermine or a scepter marks a king. But except +for the first day, when he'd been hopelessly out of range, the two +hunters hadn't seen him even once. Pythias could never conceal the fact +that he had walked in the snow. But he could hide himself. + +Methodically, Ted continued to tear strips from his bolt of red cloth +and lay them on the table. Tammie, grown fat and lazy during the three +weeks he'd been confined to the house--even though Ted had let him out +for a run every night--raised his head and blinked solemnly at the +fireplace. Bone tired, John Wilson turned in his chair and grinned. + +"You have enough of those red ribbons so you could fasten one on half +the deer in the Mahela. Think they'll work?" + +"I don't know of anything else. We've tried everything." + +"It's been a good hunt," John Wilson said contentedly, "and a most +instructive one. I don't have to have a buck." + +"But you'd like one?" + +"Not unless it's Pythias." + +"We have one more day and I have plans. Here, let me show you." + +Ted tore the last of his red cloth into strips, pulled his chair up to +the table, took a sheet of paper and a pencil and drew a map. John +Wilson leaned over his shoulder. + +"This is the Fordham Road," Ted explained, "the first left-hand fork +leading from the Lorton Road. Climb over the mountain and drop down the +other side. The first valley you'll see, it's right here, is Coon +Valley. You can't miss it, there's a turnout and hunters have been using +it. Park the truck and walk up Coon Valley. In about half a mile, or +right here, you'll come to three sycamores near a big boulder. On this +slope," Ted indicated it with his pencil, "there's a thicket of beech +scrub. You can see everything in it from the top of the boulder, Glory +Rock. Climb it and wait." + +"That's all? Just wait?" + +"That's all. If I can put him out of the laurel, there's at least an +even chance he'll cross the ridge and try to get back into the thickets +at the head of Coon Valley. If he does, he'll come through the beech +scrub." + +"And if you can't?" + +"He won't." + +"What time do you want me there, Ted?" + +"There's no great hurry. He isn't going to leave his thickets easily. It +will take you about an hour to reach the mouth of Coon Valley and maybe +another half hour or forty-five minutes to get set on Glory Rock. If you +leave the house by half-past six, you should be there soon after eight. +That's time enough." + +"How long should I wait?" + +"Until I pick you up, and I will pick you up there. I may not come +before dark. If I can put him past you, I will." + +"As you say, General." + +The tinny clatter of Ted's alarm clock awakened him at half-past three +the next morning. He reached down to shut it off, reset it for half-past +five and stole in to put it near the still sleeping John Wilson. Ted +breakfasted, gave Tammie his food and a pat, donned his hunting jacket, +put the strips of red cloth into the game pocket and stepped into the +black morning. + +He bent his head against the north wind and started climbing Burned +Mountain. He knew as he climbed that he was pitting himself against a +force as old as time. + +The woodcraft of Pythias, or any deer, shamed that of the keenest human. +Deer could identify every tiny sound, every wind that blew and the many +scents those winds carried. They knew everything there was to know about +their wilderness and they were all masters of it. No human could hope to +equal their senses. + +But Pythias, the greatest and most cunning of all, was still a beast. He +knew and could interpret the wilderness, but he couldn't possibly apply +reason to that which was not of the wilderness. If his confidence could +be shaken.... + +It was still black night when Ted reached the summit of Burned Mountain, +but he had crossed and re-crossed it so many times in the past twenty +days that he could do so in the darkness. Pythias was there, and +possibly he already knew that Ted was back on the mountain. But he'd +feel secure in the thicket where he was bedded and he would not go out +until he was flushed. + +Ted sought the aspen grown aisles between the thickets. He hung a strip +of red cloth on a wind whipped branch, walked fifty yards and hung +another. The night lifted and daylight came, and an hour later Ted tied +his last strip of cloth to a twig. Carrying no rifle--but Pythias +couldn't possibly know that--he put his hands in his pockets to warm +them. Now he had to flush the big buck. + +He and his guest had left the great animal in one of the larger thickets +last night, but it was almost certain that he hadn't passed the whole +night there. Ted circled the thicket, found Pythias' unmistakable tracks +and followed to where the big buck had nibbled tender young aspen shoots +and pawed the snow to get at the dried grass beneath it. Thereafter +Pythias had done considerable wandering. Ted worked out the trail and +discovered where his quarry had gone to rest in another thicket. + +He tracked him in, and he'd done this so many times that he knew almost +exactly what to expect. The big buck would wait until he was sure +someone was again on his trail, then he'd get up and sneak away. There +would be nothing except tracks in the snow to mark his going. A man +could not travel silently through the thickets, but a deer could. + +Deep within the thicket, Ted found the bed, a depression melted in the +snow, to which Pythias had retired when his wandering was done. The +tracks leading away were fresh and sharp, no more than a couple of +minutes old, but they were not the widely spaced ones of a running buck. +Knowing very well what he was doing, aware of the fact that he could not +be seen while there, Pythias always walked in the thickets. + +However, when he decided to leave this thicket, he had leaped through +the scrub aspen separating it from the next one. It could have taken him +no more than a second or so. If a hunter had been watching, he would +have had just a fleeting shot and only a lucky marksman would have +connected. Ted followed fast. There were no cloth strips in these +aspens. + +But when he came to where Pythias had intended to leave the next +thicket, he discovered where the big buck had set himself for the first +leap then wheeled to slip back into the laurel. Ten feet to one side, +the strip of cloth that had turned him still whipped in the wind. +Pythias had tried again to leave the thicket, been turned a second time +by another fluttering cloth and leaped wildly out at a place where Ted +had hung no ribbons. + +The buck's pattern changed completely. He was safe in the thickets, knew +it, and had never deigned to run while sheltered by friendly brush. Now +he was running, either in great leaps that placed his bunched feet six +yards apart or at a nervous trot. Ted began to have hopes. + +Pythias had the acute senses of a wild thing plus the cunning of a wise +creature that had eluded every danger for years. But the wilderness he +knew changed only with the changing seasons. What did the fluttering +cloths mean? Where had they come from? What peril did they indicate? +Pythias' tracks showed that he was becoming more nervous. + +Ted pushed him hard. The buck could not reason, but if he passed enough +of them safely and discovered for himself that there was no danger in +the red ribbons, he would pay no more attention to them. An hour and a +half after taking the track Ted knew that, at least in part, he had +succeeded. + +Unable to decide for himself what the fluttering cloths meant, Pythias +swung away from the thickets into beech forest. Now he ran continuously. +In the thickets, knowing very well that he could not be seen, he had +walked until the fluttering cloths introduced an unknown and possibly +dangerous element. This was beech forest, with visibility of anywhere +from fifty up to as much as two hundred and fifty yards. A hunter might +be anywhere and well the buck knew it. He was going to offer no one a +standing shot. + +Ted followed swiftly, for now the hunt had a definite pattern. A young +buck, chased out of the thickets on Burned Mountain, might linger in the +beeches. A wise old one would hurry as fast as possible into the +thickets at the head of Coon Valley, and the nearest route lay through +the scrub beech at Glory Rock. Ted was still a quarter of a mile away +when he heard the single, sharp crack of a rifle. + +He left the trail and cut directly toward Glory Rock. A volley was very +picturesque and sounded inspiring, but whoever ripped off half a dozen +shots in quick succession was merely shooting, without much regard to +aiming. Ted murmured an old hunter's adage as he ran, "One shot, one +deer. Two shots, maybe one deer. Three shots, no deer." + +He ran down the slope into Coon Valley and found John Wilson standing +over Pythias. The hunter's delighted eyes met Ted's, but mingled with +his delight was a little sadness, too. + +"I now," John Wilson said, "have lived." + +"You got him!" + +"I got him, poor fellow!" + +"He'll never be a better trophy than he is right now." + +It was true. At the height of his powers, Pythias faced a certain +decline. Soon he would be old, and the wilderness is not kind to the old +and infirm that dwell within it. + +John Wilson laughed. "I know it. Look at him! Just look at him! I'll bet +his base tine is thirteen inches long!" + +Ted said, "Ten inches." + +"Are you trying to beat yourself out of seventy-five dollars? I did +promise you twenty-five dollars for every inch in its longest tine, if I +got a head that satisfied me! This is surely the one!" + +Ted grinned. "I'll dress it for you," he offered. + +He turned the buck over, made a slit with his hunting knife and pulled +the viscera out. At once it became evident that John Wilson was the +second hunter of whom Pythias had run afoul, for he had been wounded +before. Ted probed interestedly. Entering the flank, the bullet had +missed the spine by two inches and any vital organs by a half inch. It +had lodged in the thick loin, and nature had built a healing scab of +tissue around it. + +Ted probed it out with his knife and almost dropped the missile. In his +hand lay one of Carl Thornton's distinctive, unmistakable, hand-loaded +bullets. + +John Wilson asked, "He's been wounded before, eh?" + +"Yes!" + +"Ted, I swear that you're more excited than I am!" + +_Ted scarcely heard. He was here, beside Glory Rock, the day after Smoky +Delbert was shot. Damon and Pythias, always together, and a deer so +badly wounded that it couldn't possibly go on. Damon hadn't gone on. +Only Pythias had. Hurt but not mortally, he had left enough blood on the +leaves to convince Ted that there'd been only one deer._ + +"When do you suppose he picked that one up?" John Wilson asked. + +"I don't know." + +_Carl Thornton, who got what he wanted, had decided to get Damon and +Pythias himself._ + +"He's darn' near as big as a horse," Wilson said. + +"Sure is." + +_A horse, a friendly, easily caught horse, that had gone down Coon +Valley that night with Damon on its back, then been released to go back +up it._ + +"You certainly know how to field-dress a buck." + +"I've done it before." + +_Smoky Delbert, happening to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. +Thornton couldn't afford to be found out. Smoky would blackmail him._ + +_Thornton paying Delbert's hospital bills._ + +"Did I hit him square?" + +"A good neck shot." + +_Factory-loaded ammunition that almost never failed to mushroom. +Hand-loaded cartridges that might fail._ + +John Wilson fumbled in his pocket. "Doggone, I seem to have lost my +pipe." + +_Al, forever losing his tobacco pouch, had gone to see Carl Thornton the +day Thornton fired Ted._ + +Ted wiped his knife blade on the snow, stood up and sheathed his knife. +He looped a length of rope around the great buck's antlers. + +"He'll be easy to get out of here," he said. + + + + +12 + +AL'S BETRAYAL + + +Deer season was ended and the village of Lorton brooded moodily between +the snowclad hills that flanked it. From now until arriving fishermen +brought new excitement, Lorton would know only that which arose from +within itself. Ted, who had put John Wilson and his great buck on +yesterday's outgoing train, steered his pickup down the street with its +plow-thrown heaps of snow on either side and drew up in front of Loring +Blade's house. He said, "Stay here, Tammie." + +The collie settled back into the seat. Ted walked to the front door, +knocked and was admitted by the game warden's attractive wife. + +"Hello, Ted." + +"Hello, Helen. Is Loring home?" + +"Yes, he is. Come on in." + +She escorted the boy into the living room, where, pajama-clad and with a +pile of magazines beside him, Loring Blade lay on a davenport and sipped +lazily from a cup of coffee. He looked up and grimaced. + +"Whatever you want, I'm ag'in' it. I aim to stay here for the next +nineteen years." + +Ted grinned. "Have they been pushing you pretty hard, Loring?" + +"I've been on the go forty-seven hours a day and, at a conservative +estimate, I've walked nine million miles since deer season opened." + +"Was it bad?" + +"No worse than usual. Most of the hunters who came in were a pretty +decent lot. But there always is--and I suppose always will be--the wise +guy who thinks he can get away with anything. I caught one joker with +nine deer." + +"Wow!" + +"He was fined," Loring said happily, "a hundred dollars for each one and +suspension of hunting privileges for five years." + +"Smoky Delbert give you any trouble?" + +"You know better than that. Smoky can't walk a hundred yards from his +house and won't be able to for a long while to come." + +"I feel kind of sorry for the poor cuss," Ted murmured. + +Loring Blade looked at him sharply. "You didn't come here to ask me +about Smoky." + +"Oh, yes I did. Who talked with him after he was shot?" + +"I did, for one. Why?" + +"What did he tell you?" + +The warden shrugged. "You know that as well as I do. Smoky was walking +up Coon Valley when your dad rose from behind Glory Rock and shot him." + +"Can you tell me the exact story?" + +Loring Blade looked puzzled. "What do you want to know, Ted?" + +"Did Smoky hear any shooting?" + +"Come to think of it, a half minute or so before he got to Glory Rock he +heard two shots." + +Ted's heart pounded excitedly. The two shots had been for Damon and +Pythias. Smoky wouldn't have heard the one that got him. Ted continued +his questioning. + +"Did Smoky have any idea as to who was shooting at what?" + +"He thought your dad was banging away at a varmint." + +"Then he did know Dad had gone up Coon Valley ahead of him?" + +"Why yes, he saw his boot track in the mud. But you knew that." + +"Was Smoky afraid to go on?" + +"Why should he have been afraid? Who expects to get shot?" + +"Tell me exactly how he said he saw Dad shoot him." + +"Smoky was near the three sycamores when he thought he saw something +move. A second later, your dad rose from behind Glory Rock and shot +him." + +"Smoky's very sure of that? It was Dad that rose from behind the rock?" + +"He told the same story at least a dozen times that I know of. It never +varied." + +"Dad didn't step out from beside the rock, or anything like that?" + +"No, he rose from behind it." + +"Loring, has it occurred to anybody, except me, that the back of Glory +Rock is a sheer drop? Anyone who could rise from _behind_ and shoot over +it would have to be at least nine feet tall!" + +"I--By gosh, you're right! I knew Al never bush-whacked him! He must +have been standing in plain sight when Smoky came up the valley!" + +"Smoky never saw who shot him." + +"That's not the way he told it." + +"Think!" Ted urged. "Think of the sort of man Smoky is. There was bad +blood between him and Dad and had been for some time. You were there +when Dad dressed him down for setting traps before fur was prime. There +was, as you'll remember, talk of shooting even then. Smoky knew Dad had +gone up Coon Valley ahead of him; probably he even _thinks_ Dad shot +him. He said he saw him because he wanted to be sure of revenge. Smoky +would do that." + +"Yes, he would. But it seems to me that you're doing a lot of guessing." + +"Maybe. You brought Smoky's rifle out?" + +"Yes." + +"Had it been fired?" + +"No, the bore was mirror slick." + +"What would you do if you ran across Dad?" + +"I'd bring him in, if I had to do it at gun point." + +"Loring, I am going to do something that neither you nor I thought I +would ever do. I am going to betray my dad into your hands." + +"Then you do know where he is?" + +"No, I haven't seen him since the night he left." + +"Cut it out, Ted. We all know you've been taking him supplies and we've +tried a dozen times to catch you at it. You do know where he is?" + +"I don't, but Tammie does." + +"So!" the warden exploded. "Callahan was right! He thought he saw Tammie +leave your house that night with a pack on his back. But when you +whistled him in, and he didn't have any pack, Callahan figured he'd made +a mistake. How'd you manage that?" + +"Dad was coming to see me and he saw Callahan, too. He met Tammie within +yards of the house and took his pack off. Loring, if this is to be done, +it's to be done my way." + +"What's your way?" + +"You do exactly as I say." + +"I'm listening." + +"Meet me at my house two hours after midnight. We'll cross the hills to +Glory Rock; we won't be able to walk up Coon Valley. Then you're to hide +behind or beside the rock, any place you can listen without being seen, +until I say you can come out." + +"Now look here, Ted, I like you and I like your dad, but I'm not +sticking my neck out for anybody." + +"I promise you won't, and I also promise that you will get a chance to +bring Dad in." + +The game warden pondered. Finally he agreed, "All right, Ted, it'll be +your way. But if there are any tricks, somebody's going to get hurt." + +"O.K. Meet me at two?" + +"At two." + +Ted drove happily to Nels Anderson's modest house and found his friend +chopping wood. Nels greeted him with a broad smile. + +"Hi, Ted! Come in an' have a cup of coffee?" + +"I can't stay, Nels. How are you doing?" + +"Goot, goot for now. Them deer hunters what stayed in your camp, they +paid me nice an' I get another yob soon." + +"Crestwood's changing hands and the new owners are taking over next +week. You might go ask them for your old job back." + +"Yah! I do that." + +"If you don't get one there," Ted said recklessly, "I myself will be +able to offer you something that'll tide you over until you get another +job. I'm going to build more camps." + +"Py golly, Ted, I yoost don't know how to thank you!" + +"Will you do me a favor?" + +"For you I do anything!" + +"Then listen carefully. At seven o'clock tomorrow morning I want you to +go to Crestwood and see Thornton; he'll be out of bed. Tell him that +there's something near those three sycamores in Coon Valley that he'd +better take care of." + +Nels scratched his head and let the instructions sink in. "At seven +tomorrow mornin' I see Thornton. I tell him, 'There's somethin' near +them three sycamores in Coon Valley you better take care of.'" + +"That's it." + +"Yah, Ted, I do it yoost that way." + + * * * * * + +Ted's alarm awakened him at a quarter past one. He reached down in the +darkness to shut it off, and as he lay there he knew a cold foreboding. +Until now, the day to put his plan into execution, he had been very sure +he was right. But suppose he was wrong? Al would be in Loring Blade's +hands, delivered there by his own son! Ted got up and almost grimly +clothed himself. His father couldn't stay in the Mahela much longer +anyhow, and Ted knew he was right. When he was dressed, he sat down and +wrote a note: + + Dad; Meet me at the three sycamores near Glory Rock and bring + Tammie with you. It's very important. When you get there, hide in + the beech scrub until you think it's time to come out. You'll know + what it's about after you arrive. + + Love, + Ted + +He put the note in a pliofilm bag and was just on the point of handing +it to Tammie when he hesitated. Timing was very important, and certainly +Al Harkness was never going to show himself at the three sycamores if he +saw Loring Blade anywhere near them. Ted put his doubts behind him. His +note said plainly that something was stirring and his father wasn't +going to show himself anyway until he knew what it was. + +Ted opened the back door, gave the pliofilm bag to Tammie and said, +"Take it to Al. Go find Al." + +Tammie streaked away in the darkness and Ted turned back to the kitchen. +He set coffee to perking, laid strips of bacon in a skillet and arranged +half a dozen eggs nearby. At seven o'clock--and because he was who he +was it would be exactly seven o'clock--Nels would go to Carl Thornton +and deliver Ted's message. If Thornton was innocent, he'd probably think +Nels had gone crazy. + +But if Ted was right and he was guilty, Thornton would come up Coon +Valley as soon as possible, to find and destroy any incriminating +evidence that lay there. He would get the message at seven. Give him ten +minutes to get ready, forty minutes--Crestwood was nearer than the +Harkness house--to reach the mouth of Coon Valley and another twenty +minutes to reach the sycamores. If he was not there by nine o'clock, he +would not come. + +There was a knock on the door and Ted opened it to admit Loring Blade. + +"Hi!" + +"Hi!" the warden grumped. "I've made all arrangements." + +"For taking Dad to jail?" + +"For having my head examined!" the warden snapped. "Who in his right +mind would let himself in for this sort of thing?" + +"In about three minutes," Ted promised, "I'll have hot coffee and bacon +and eggs. You'll feel better then." + +They ate, the warden maintaining a sour silence and Ted again filled +with doubt. All he really knew was that Carl Thornton had killed Damon +and wounded Pythias before the season opened. The wounded deer in the +beech scrub could have been shot by anyone at all and-- + +No, they couldn't. Al and Smoky Delbert, as far as anyone knew, had been +the only two people in Coon Valley that day. Al wouldn't shoot an +illegal deer and Ted had Loring Blade's word for it that Smoky's rifle +had never been fired. There had been a third party, and after Ted chased +him out of the thickets on Burned Mountain, Pythias had cut through the +beech scrub. Obviously, he knew the route and he wouldn't have +remembered that, a couple of months ago, he had almost come to disaster +on it. A deer's memory isn't that long. + +When the two had finished eating, Ted asked, "Shall we go?" + +"I'm ready. But if we're going to Glory Rock, why can't we drive to the +mouth of Coon Valley?" + +"You promised to do this my way." + +There must be nothing to warn Carl Thornton away--if he came--and fresh +tracks leading up Coon Valley might do just that. + +Loring Blade said, "I suppose I might as well be a complete jackass as a +partial one. We'll walk." + +They went out into the cold night, while the north wind fanned their +cheeks and trees sighed around them. A deer snorted and bounded away, +and there came an angry hiss from a weasel that, having all but cornered +the rabbit it was hunting, expressed its hatred for humans before it +fled from them. + +Ted asked, "You tired?" + +"Lead on." + +The wan, gray light of an overcast morning fell sadly on the wilderness +when the pair came again to the three sycamores and Glory Rock. Ted's +watch read seven-thirty. Carl Thornton had his message and, if he was +guilty, even now he was on his way. + +Loring Blade asked, "What now?" + +"You'd better hide." + +"Oh, for pete's sake--" + +"Dad isn't going to walk into your open arms." + +The warden said grimly, "All right. But if he doesn't come, there'll be +one Harkness hide tacked to the old barn door and it won't be your +dad's." + +He slipped in behind Glory Rock and it was as though he'd never been. +Ted was left alone with the keening breeze, the murmuring trees and the +Mahela. He looked across at the beech scrub where Al was supposed to +hide, where he might even now be hiding, and saw nothing. He shivered +slightly--and knew that he was lost if Thornton didn't come. + +Then he was sure that Thornton was not coming ... but when he looked at +his watch it was only five minutes to eight. There simply hadn't been +time.... Mentally Ted ticked another hour off. However, his watch said +that only seven minutes had passed and he stopped looking at it. +Forty-eight hours later, which his faulty watch said was only +forty-eight minutes, he looked down the valley and saw motion. + +Ted stood very still in front of Glory Rock, and a prayer went up from +his heart.... When the approaching man was very near he said, "Hello, +Thornton." + +Carl Thornton stopped, and for a moment shocked surprise ruled his face. +But it was only for a moment. He replied coolly, "Hello, Harkness." + +"I see," Ted observed, "that you got my message?" + +"Message?" + +"The one Nels Anderson gave you at seven o'clock this morning. The one +that sent you up here." + +"What are you talking about?" + +"This--and I found it within six feet of where you're standing. Now do +you think it could be the bullet that went through Smoky Delbert?" + +Ted took from his pocket the bullet he had dug out of Pythias and held +it up between thumb and forefinger. Again, but only for an almost +imperceptible part of a second, Carl Thornton's composure deserted him. +Then, once more, he was the master of Crestwood and as such he had no +association with ordinary residents of the Mahela. He said scornfully, +"Give me that bullet." + +"Well now, I just don't think I will. The Sheriff, the State Police--and +maybe others--will sure be interested as all get out. You'll have some +explaining to do, Thornton, and _can you explain_?" + +"I want that bullet!" + +"Why do you want it, Thornton?" + +"Give me that bullet!" + +"Not so fast. I might _sell_ it to you. What's it worth for you to have +it?" + +Carl Thornton's laugh carried an audible sneer. "You slob! You hill +monkey! You're even lower than I thought! Sell the evidence that would +clear your own father for money!" + +"Then you _did_ shoot Smoky!" + +"I want that bullet!" + +"Come take it." + +"I'll do just that." + +Ted balanced on the balls of his feet, a grin of sheerest delight on his +face. Thornton was bigger than he--and heavier--and he was moving like a +trained boxer. But because his back was turned, he did not see Tammie +burst from the scrub beech and race him down. Tammie went into the air. +His flying body struck squarely and Carl Thornton took two involuntary +forward steps. He fell face downwards and rolled over to shield his +throat with his right arm. Tammie's bared fangs gleamed an inch away and +Thornton's voice was muffled. + +"Call him off! I'll give you a thousand dollars for the bullet!" + +"No, thanks," Ted said evenly, "and I wouldn't move if I were you. +Anyway, I wouldn't move too far or fast. Tammie might get nervous." He +raised his voice. "All right, Loring, I think he'll tell you the rest +now." + +Ted scarcely noticed when Loring Blade came out from behind Glory Rock +because his whole attention was centered on the man who emerged from the +beech scrub. Al Harkness was lean as a wolf. His ragged hair had been +hacked as short as possible with a hunting knife and his beard was +bushy. His tattered clothing was held together with strips of deerskin, +fox pelt, wildcat fur and fishing line. But his step was lithe and his +eyes were clear and happy. + +"Hi, Ted!" + +"Hello, Dad!" + +They came very close and looked at each other, saying with their eyes +all that which, for the moment, they could find no words to express.... +Then Al asked, "How you been, Son?" + +"Fine! Had a swell season! As soon as you get squared around again--and +used to living like a civilized man--we can start two more camps." + +"Right glad to hear it. You'll have your lodge yet." + +"Might at that. How have you been?" + +"Not too bad." Al grinned his old grin. "Not too bad at all." + +"Hey!" Loring Blade called plaintively. "Call your dog, will you? I've +told him six times to get away so I can start taking this guy to jail +and all he does is growl louder!" + +Ted turned and snapped his fingers. + +"Come on, Tammie. Come on up here and join your family." + + + + +JIM KJELGAARD + + +was born in New York City. Happily enough, he was still in the +pre-school age when his father decided to move the family to the +Pennsylvania mountains. There young Jim grew up among some of the best +hunting and fishing in the United States. He says: "If I had pursued my +scholastic duties as diligently as I did deer, trout, grouse, squirrels, +etc., I might have had better report cards!" + +Jim Kjelgaard has worked at various jobs--trapper, teamster, guide, +surveyor, factory worker and laborer. When he was in the late twenties +he decided to become a full-time writer. He has succeeded in his wish. +He has published several hundred short stories and articles and quite a +few books for young people. + +His hobbies are hunting, fishing, dogs, and questing for new stories. He +tells us: "Story hunts have led me from the Atlantic to the Pacific and +from the Arctic Circle to Mexico City. Stories, like gold, are where you +find them. You may discover one three thousand miles from home or, as in +_The Spell of the White Sturgeon_, right on your own doorstep." And he +adds: "I am married to a very beautiful girl and have a teen-age +daughter. Both of them order me around in a shameful fashion, but I can +still boss the dog! We live in Phoenix, Arizona." + + + + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Double Challenge, by James Arthur Kjelgaard + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 41671 *** |