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+*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 41690 ***
+
+                        TRADING JEFF AND HIS DOG
+
+                          _BY JIM KJELGAARD_
+
+
+    _DODD, MEAD & COMPANY, NEW YORK, 1956_
+
+    © 1956 by Jim Kjelgaard
+
+    All rights reserved
+
+    No part of this book may be reproduced in any form
+    without permission in writing from the publisher
+
+    Library of Congress Catalog Card Number: 56-5246
+    Printed in the United States of America
+
+
+
+
+                        _For
+    Margaret Mary, John, Jim, Frank, and Barbara Dresen_
+
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+
+       1. THE MEETING                        1
+
+       2. BAD LUCK                          18
+
+       3. ESCAPE                            34
+
+       4. THE CABIN                         50
+
+       5. DAN                               65
+
+       6. VISITOR                           79
+
+       7. GRANNY                            94
+
+       8. ACKERTON                         110
+
+       9. MIGHTY MISSION                   124
+
+      10. BOMBSHELL                        137
+
+      11. THE TALKING TREE                 154
+
+      12. SURPRISE                         167
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+_The characters, incidents and situations in this book are imaginary and
+have no relation to any person or actual happening._
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+1. THE MEETING
+
+
+When the dog came to the weed-grown border of the clearing, he stopped.
+Then, knowing that his back could be seen over the weeds, he slunk down
+so that his belly scraped the earth. He was tense and quivering, and his
+eyes bore a haunted look. But there was nothing craven in them and
+little fear. In all his life the dog had never feared anything except
+the terrible torment that beset him now.
+
+He was of no recognizable breed, though all of his ancestors had been
+large dogs. There was a hint of staghound in his massive head and in his
+carriage, and somewhere along the way he had acquired a trace of Great
+Dane. His fur was silky, like a collie's, and there was a suggestion of
+bloodhound in his somewhat flabby jowls. Without purpose or plan, the
+blood of all these breeds had mingled to produce this big mongrel.
+
+He was so emaciated that slatted ribs showed even through his
+burr-matted fur. Had he eaten as much as he wanted, he would have
+weighed about a hundred and ten pounds, but he had had so little food
+recently that he was fifteen pounds lighter. Intelligence glowed in his
+eyes. But there was also something in them that verged on desperation.
+
+He moved only his head and moved that slowly. This dog knew too much,
+and had suffered too much, to let himself be seen until he had some idea
+of what he was about. He was looking toward a big white farmhouse that
+was surrounded by a grove of apple trees. A thin plume of blue smoke
+rose from the chimney, and a pile of freshly-split wood lay in the yard.
+Busy white hens wandered about. White and black cows and two brown
+horses cropped grass in a pasture. Pigs grunted in their pen and a black
+cat sunned itself on the door step.
+
+The dog's attention returned to the man who was splitting more wood. He
+was thin, dressed in faded blue jeans and a tan shirt, and the blows of
+his axe echoed dully from the hills surrounding the farm house. He
+worked slowly and methodically. The dog drank eagerly of his scent,
+although he did not leave his cover, for behind him there was only a
+trail of torment, abuse and real danger. He had been wandering for two
+months and his path was a long one, but because it was also a twisted
+one it had not taken him too far from the place he had left. He had been
+in villages and towns, through farm lands and forest, and wherever he
+met men he had been stoned or clubbed. Three times--twice by farmers and
+once by a policeman--he had been shot at.
+
+The dog could not know that this was partly because of his appearance
+and size. He was big and he looked wild. Had he cared to do so, he could
+have killed a man. But what none of his tormentors could know was that,
+though the dog feared little, he was almost incapable of attacking a
+human being. What nobody could know either was that, most of all, the
+dog was in desperate need of someone to love.
+
+Until two months ago, everything had been different. When the dog came
+to live with Johnny Blazer, in the hills behind Smithville, he was so
+young that it always seemed he must have begun life with Johnny. It was
+a good life and he had never wanted any other.
+
+Johnny's cabin was big, with a kitchen and combined living-dining room
+on the first floor and the entire second floor given over to many bunks.
+It was necessary to have a big cabin because, in season, Johnny both
+guided and boarded hunters and fishermen. During the winter, he trapped
+furs, and when there was nothing else to do he worked at odd jobs or
+searched out and sold medicinal roots which he found in the hills. A
+lean, tight-jawed woodsman in his late thirties, Johnny had been the
+dog's revered master.
+
+Because he was a dog, and thus incapable of grasping the more complex
+facts, the great animal did not understand that life was not the wholly
+carefree and happy one it seemed. He could sense that Johnny avoided the
+Whitneys, who--at various places in the hills--lived much as Johnny did.
+Because they were Johnny's enemies, it followed that the Whitneys must
+be the dog's enemies too. But he had never understood what took place.
+
+Johnny and the dog were strolling toward Smithville when a rifle cracked
+and Johnny took three staggering steps to fall forward. While the dog
+hovered anxiously near, his master tried and failed to get up. The dog
+knew that the scent of Pete Whitney filled the air, but there was no
+connection between Pete and the fact that Johnny Blazer lay wounded in
+the road.
+
+For an hour the dog worried beside Johnny, whining because he could not
+help. Then a car happened along. The two men in it lifted Johnny into
+the car and were off at high speed.
+
+The dog tried to follow, but though he could run very fast, he could not
+keep up with the car. Outdistanced, he panted back to the cabin because
+he was sure that Johnny would return there, too. He waited a week, never
+venturing far away and eating only what he could find or catch. Then he
+set out to look for Johnny.
+
+He'd gone first to Smithville and the first person he'd met there was
+Pete Whitney. The dog slowed to a walk, watching Pete warily and
+bristling. He saw no connection between any of Pete's actions and
+Johnny's disappearance, but all the Whitneys were enemies. He leaped
+aside when Pete aimed a swift kick at his groin, then turned with bared
+fangs. Unarmed, Pete shrank back against a near-by building and the dog
+went on.
+
+The alarm was sounded; Johnny Blazer's dog had come into town and
+threatened a person. For a while--Johnny had many friends in
+Smithville--nothing was done. But after two days, the dog was considered
+a menace. Mothers of small children became concerned for their safety.
+The first act of most men, upon seeing the dog, was to pick up and hurl
+any convenient missile.
+
+The Smithville constable, Bill Ellis, reluctantly set out to kill the
+animal. But two hours earlier, having satisfied himself that he would
+not find Johnny in Smithville, the dog had left. What he could not
+possibly know was that his master was dead and the official cause of his
+death was, "Bullet wound inflicted by a person or persons unknown."
+
+As the dog wandered, hope faded. He could not find Johnny. But the dog
+had to have a master because he was unable to live without one, and now,
+as he lay in the tall weeds, all the deep yearnings in his heart
+concentrated on this man splitting wood.
+
+He half rose, minded to walk out and meet him, but memory of the rocks
+and clubs that had come his way was not an easy one to banish and he
+settled down in the weeds again. Then an uncontrollable longing for
+someone to love and someone to love him overcame everything else and he
+left the weeds.
+
+He walked with his tail drooping in a half circle down his rear, but he
+was not abject because it was not in him to be so. One or more of his
+many ancestors had bequeathed to him a great pride and a regal inner
+sense, and though he would run when a club or brick was hurled at him,
+he could never cringe. He carried his tail low because that was the way
+he carried it naturally, like a collie or staghound.
+
+The man, setting a chunk of wood against the splitting block, had his
+back turned to the dog and did not at once see him. The dog waited,
+unwilling to intrude until he was invited to do so. The man raised his
+axe, brought it expertly down, and the wood split cleanly. He stooped to
+pick up the two pieces and when he did he saw the dog.
+
+"You!"
+
+Catching up one of the chunks, he hurled it with deadly aim and intent.
+But even as he did this, the huge animal started to run, so that instead
+of striking him in the head, the chunk of wood struck his right
+shoulder. The dog felt quick agony that subsided to searing pain as he
+kept running. Twenty seconds later he heard a rifle blast, and the thump
+of a leaden slug that plowed into the earth six inches to one side. The
+rifle roared a second time, and a third. Then he was safe in the woods.
+
+He slowed to a walk, knowing that he could not be seen now and his nose
+informed him that there were no other men around. For the time being he
+was in no danger, but he was heartsick. Again he had tried, in every way
+he knew, to find someone whom he might love and who in turn might love
+him. Once more his overtures had brought him only hurt.
+
+The dog could not know that the farmer, seeing him suddenly, had been
+too startled to think. When he was finally capable of coherent thought,
+he decided that a wild, dangerous and doubtless rabid wolf had emerged
+from the forest and that its only intention could be to prey upon the
+locality's flocks and herds. Failing to bring it down with his rifle,
+the farmer got hastily on the phone to mobilize his neighbors. Within
+half an hour a posse was out.
+
+However, its members were farmers and not hunters. The only hunting dogs
+in the area were a few fox and coon hounds and some rabbit hounds, and
+they refused to interest themselves in the supposed wolf's trail. But
+there was also a pair of big cross-bred brindle bulls and they were
+urged into the woods. An hour later the dog met this pair.
+
+Coursing a little open glade, they appeared in front of him and as soon
+as they saw him they stopped. The bulls weighed only about fifty pounds
+each, but they had had many battles and they knew how to fight. Lifting
+their lips in anticipatory grins, they closed in.
+
+The dog waited, anger rising in his heart. He too knew how to fight. For
+the barest fraction of a minute he gauged the bulls' advance, then he
+attacked. He was not as swift as he ordinarily was because he had not
+eaten enough. But with his staghound and collie lineage, he had
+inherited all the fluid, rippling grace of such dogs. It was not his way
+to bore in, to seek a hold and keep it, but to slash and slice. He
+struck the first bull, cut it to the shoulder bone, and leaped clear
+over his enemy before there could be a return thrust. He whirled to face
+the second.
+
+It came at him with a short, choppy gait, eyes half closed and mouth
+open as it sought any hold at all. As soon as it was able to get one, it
+would clamp its jaws and grind until the piece of flesh in its mouth was
+torn out. Then it would get another hold, and another, and literally
+tear its enemy apart.
+
+The dog waited, as though he were about to meet the bull head on. But
+when only inches separated them, he glided to one side, ducked to get
+hold of a front leg, and used all his strength to throw the bull clear
+over his head. He turned to meet the second bull that, recovering, had
+come in to grab his thigh.
+
+Twisting himself almost double, the dog slashed and bit and each time he
+slashed fresh blood spurted from the brindle bull's hide. The dog opened
+his huge mouth, clamped it over the bull's neck, and shook his adversary
+back and forth.
+
+The bulls had courage, but they were cross-breeds and not the fighting
+bulls that will gladly die if they can take their enemy with them. They
+staggered twenty feet off and faced the dog warily, as though seeking
+some new way to attack him. He waited, ready for whatever they might
+do, and when he finally limped away he did so with his head turned to
+see if he was being followed.
+
+He was not afraid to renew the battle, but he wanted most to be let
+alone by this ugly pair. In spite of all the rebuffs and even physical
+violence that he had met up with, however, he could not abandon the
+driving urge that had sent him forth. He could not live without a
+master. Somewhere and somehow he must find one.
+
+He passed from settled country into forest where there was only an
+occasional clearing. When two deer fled before him he gave halfhearted
+chase. But his shoulder still hurt and the battle had wearied him. When
+the deer outdistanced him, he stopped to eat a few mushrooms that grew
+on a stump. They were tasteless fare, but they helped still the gnawing
+in his belly. Near the edge of a pond, he found and ate a fish that had
+been hurt in battle with a bigger fish, and after that he caught a
+mouse. All together were mere tidbits, and the dog thought wistfully of
+the delicious meals Johnny Blazer used to prepare for him.
+
+Night had fallen when he stopped suddenly, his nose tickled by the
+tantalizing odor of food. Mingled with it was the smell of wood smoke
+and a man. The dog's nose informed him that there was a creek, and he
+caught the faintly-acrid smell of cinders and steel that meant a
+railroad. The dog slowed to a walk and went closer to verify with his
+eyes what his nose had already told him.
+
+There was a creek spanned by a railroad bridge. Beneath the bridge was a
+small, bright fire over which, on a forked stick, hung a pot of
+simmering coffee. Crouched beside the fire was a man, and because there
+is a difference in the odors of young and old, the dog knew that this
+was a young man.
+
+The dog padded silently through tall, wild grass growing beside the
+creek. He drooled at the odor of food, but because painful experience
+had taught him to be very careful in all dealings with men, he did not
+go any nearer. He licked his chops with a moist tongue and excitement
+danced in his eyes. How he would love to be near that fire, partaking of
+the food and the caresses of the young man!
+
+But he had better be careful.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+At the same time that the dog met the farmer who hurled the block of
+wood at him, Jeff Tarrant was walking down a dusty road that led into
+the town of Cressman. Two days past his eighteenth birthday, his face
+betrayed his youth. Healthy as sunshine, he walked with a spring in his
+step and his head held high. His rather loose lips formed a grin that
+seemed permanently fixed. His blue eyes sparked and a shock of curly red
+hair that needed cutting tumbled on his head. Even if it were not for
+the pack he carried, he would have commanded a second glance.
+
+The pack, made of both canvas and leather and with straps at strategic
+intervals, was huge. It began at Jeff's hip line, extended two inches
+over the top of his head, and it was bulging. Across it, in black
+letters as big as the pack would accommodate, was:
+
+    TARRANT
+    ENTERPRISES
+    Ltd.
+
+Jeff himself had designed the pack to fit his needs, and he had done the
+lettering. It described him perfectly, for what nobody except Jeff knew
+was that Tarrant Enterprises was limited to whatever might be in the
+pack.
+
+He walked cheerfully, for it was a cheerful day, and he gave thanks for
+the sparsely-settled country and the little-traveled road on which he
+found himself. In the first place, this was the only kind of country in
+which Tarrant Enterprises, Ltd., could flourish. Secondly, the day was
+made for walking. When Jeff found himself on traveled roads, he was
+forever being offered rides, and for the sake of both courtesy and good
+business he always accepted. But there had been no rides today.
+
+Descending a hill, Jeff looked down at a junction of two forested
+valleys, up one of which a train was puffing. He looked at it closely,
+while the smile in his eyes and that on his mouth seemed to grow a
+little more pronounced. Railroad tracks meant towns somewhere, and the
+sort of business Tarrant Enterprises, Ltd., could do in towns depended
+on circumstance.
+
+Jeff sniffed deeply, for part of his success depended on an ability to
+sense what lay ahead, just as a hunter must sense what is in the offing.
+Now he had wood smoke in his nostrils, and he was not surprised when he
+rounded an outjutting corner of the hill and saw a farm house.
+
+Jeff whistled happily as he approached the house and knocked on the
+front door, and he had the most gracious smile Tarrant Enterprises,
+Ltd., could muster up for the woman who opened it.
+
+"Good afternoon, ma'am. I represent Tarrant--"
+
+"Don't want nothin'!" she rasped. "Never buy nothin' from peddlers!"
+
+Hard work, loneliness and collapsed dreams had all left their marks, so
+that she was almost as weather-beaten as the house. But Jeff saw at a
+glance that the place was neat and clean, and since she did not close
+the door, he entered, swung the pack from his back, and laid it on a
+table.
+
+"Get it off!" she scolded. "Don't want no dirty pack on my table! Don't
+want nothin' from no peddler nohow!"
+
+Jeff sniffed hungrily. A delicious incense, the mingled odors of roast
+chicken and fresh-baked bread, blessed his nostrils. He said slowly and
+with dignity,
+
+"I am not a peddler, ma'am. I represent Tarrant--"
+
+"Now, look! I just broke my parin' knife an' I got no time--"
+
+"Ah!"
+
+Like magic, and seemingly without visible motion, the pack opened. From
+it Jeff took a paring knife with a gleaming blade and a shiny black
+handle.
+
+"Only seventeen cents, ma'am. Blade of finest steel and hilt of genuine
+polished wood! Holds its edges and its temper, too! A lifetime knife!"
+
+She looked at the knife, longing in her eyes. When she glanced again at
+Jeff, she was not so hostile.
+
+"Got no money," she admitted.
+
+Jeff laughed. "I asked for none! Our conversation became so fascinating
+that I had no chance to explain that I represent Tarrant Enterprises,
+Ltd. We have long recognized the needs of people such as yourself,
+people who prefer the refined quiet of country life to crowds and
+cities. But country life, as you must know, is not without
+inconveniences. Our only aim is to bring to the doors of people such as
+yourself whatever may not be available."
+
+Her eyes were suspicious. "You mean you're givin' me this knife?"
+
+"Not at all, ma'am. Tarrant Enterprises, Ltd., is always willing to
+barter. _Umm!_ Is that roast chicken I smell?"
+
+"I ain't tradin' you no roast chicken for no little knife!"
+
+"Surely one small knife will not fill your needs?"
+
+"Well, I could use some cinnamon sticks."
+
+With the same magical ease, Jeff opened his pack and gracefully offered
+a small parcel of cinnamon sticks.
+
+"Cinnamon from Ceylon," he said, at the same time wondering if he did
+not have cinnamon and tea confused. He went on, "The world's only pure
+cinnamon, made available to Tarrant Enterprises, Ltd., through special
+sources."
+
+"My," she was impressed. "What else do you have?"
+
+Jeff said, in the same tone that a department store manager would have
+used, "What do you wish, ma'am?"
+
+She eyed the pack. "You wouldn't have some real nice gingham?"
+
+"Certainly."
+
+Again it was as though the pack opened itself, and from it Jeff took a
+partial bolt of red-checked gingham. Her eyes softened.
+
+"It's real pretty."
+
+"Feel its texture," Jeff urged. "Tarrant Enterprises, Ltd., stocks only
+the best. Shall we say about six yards?"
+
+She said doubtfully, "Best make it three."
+
+Jeff whipped a pair of scissors from his pack and a folding ruler from
+his pocket. He measured and cut three yards of gingham. She fondled it
+dreamily, and compared to the dress she wore, it was elegance itself.
+Jeff stood expectantly, as though everything in the world were available
+in his pack.
+
+"Anything else?"
+
+She eyed the scissors. "Can I have them, too?"
+
+Jeff frowned slightly. "I don't know, ma'am. They sell for a dollar and
+ten cents, and Tarrant Enterprises, Ltd., must show a reasonable return.
+Now--"
+
+She said, as though suddenly remembering, "I've got a dollar."
+
+"And for the rest might we have bread and chicken?"
+
+"Oh, sure! I'll get it right now!"
+
+She ran into the kitchen, lingered a few minutes, and returned with a
+large package, one almost as large, and a small parcel. Jeff smacked his
+lips. The largest package could contain nothing less than the better
+part of a roast chicken, the one nearly as large must be a whole loaf of
+bread, and she pressed all three on him.
+
+"Some butter for your bread, an' here's the dollar. You comin' through
+again?"
+
+"When I do, ma'am, you have an honored place on my list of valued
+customers."
+
+"Then you will stop?"
+
+"Most certainly."
+
+"Be sure now."
+
+"Ma'am, you have the word of Tarrant Enterprises, Ltd."
+
+Jeff strode happily down the road, and he had cheated his customer in no
+way. Tarrant Enterprises was always ready to barter, for Jeff had long
+since learned that money must be spent. Now he had a meal as good as any
+the best inns served and he had it for half of what he would have paid
+in cash. But the woman was happy too, and that always made for a fair
+deal.
+
+When he came to where the two valleys made one, Jeff left the road and
+sought the railroad tracks. Last night he had slept in a haystack, but
+it was far from an ideal bed. Jeff had not resented the mice, for he
+thought mice were interesting. The hay itself had been old, filled with
+seeds and thistles, and tonight he wanted a better camp. It was always
+possible to find one along a railroad.
+
+As it always did when he sighted potential customers, Jeff's interest
+quickened when he saw two men with a handcar beside them, working on the
+tracks. He came abreast of them, two sweating, bewhiskered men who, even
+on this bright day, managed to look sullen.
+
+"Good afternoon, gentlemen."
+
+They glowered at him from beneath bushy eyebrows, and looked meaningly
+at each other.
+
+"Beat it, peddler."
+
+Jeff laughed merrily. "What a refreshing sense of humor! Such an
+intelligent bit of wisdom! You are just the men I hoped to meet! I
+represent Tarrant--"
+
+"Beat it, peddler."
+
+"Now just think about that! Reconsider! If--"
+
+The two raised threatening pick axes. "Are you deef?"
+
+"I was just going," Jeff said hastily.
+
+He was not so much as a trifle saddened as he trudged on down the
+tracks. Even Tarrant Enterprises, Ltd., could not overcome sales
+resistance that was backed by threatening pick axes, and nobody won
+every time. Nobody had to, for just down the road there were sure to be
+new customers.
+
+Jeff came to a steel railroad bridge and looked with delighted eyes at
+the creek flowing beneath it. It was a clear, spring-fed stream, and it
+purled down riffles that filled a deep pool. Beneath the bridge there
+were weeds, sand, some big rocks, and driftwood.
+
+Scrambling down the embankment, Jeff sighed at the sheer luxury of such
+a place. It had everything anyone needed. Carefully, he laid the pack
+down, put his food parcels in the shade, and from his own personal
+compartment of the pack he took a towel, a wash cloth, a bar of soap, a
+tooth brush and a comb. Taking off his clothes, he plunged into the pool
+and swam across. After five minutes he waded out, soaped himself from
+head to foot, and rinsed in the pool. He was thus engaged when the
+handcar rattled over the bridge.
+
+Jeff dried himself, dressed and combed some order into the chaos of his
+hair. For a while he was satisfied to lay in the sun, happy just to
+dream.
+
+Left without parents when a young child, he had been brought up in an
+orphanage which he had voluntarily left when he was fourteen and a half.
+He had worked for a farmer, for a livery stable which was in the process
+of becoming converted to a garage, for a pipe line crew and for others,
+long enough to convince himself that there is no special virtue in and
+not much to be gained through hard work alone. For the past two and a
+half years he had been owner, manager and entire working force of
+Tarrant Enterprises, Ltd.
+
+That, by train, car, horse conveyance and on foot, had taken him to both
+coasts and both borders. He spent his summers in the north and his
+winters in the south, and the tidy roll of bills sewed in an inside
+pocket was proof that hard work is fine and wonderful if combined with
+initiative and intelligence. It was a happy life, one he liked, and
+though he thought he might take roots some time, he was not ready to do
+it yet.
+
+Not until dusk brought the first hint of evening chill did Jeff gather
+wood and build a fire. He built it close enough to a big boulder so
+that the rock's surface would reflect heat, but far enough away so that
+it would not be too hot. He lingered beside the pool, listening to the
+night noises.
+
+Out in the forest a whippoorwill began its eerie cry, and a sleepy bird
+twittered from its roost. The purling riffles splashed and called and a
+breeze set the forest to sighing. Only a stone rolling down the
+embankment seemed to be out of tune. Jeff's fire cast weird shadows, and
+the snapping of the burning wood added its own notes to the symphony of
+night.
+
+Jeff turned from the stream toward his fire and confronted the two men
+whom he had met along the railroad. Now he knew why that stone had
+rolled.
+
+Except for this one small sound, they had come silently, and in the
+firelight they seemed even more unkempt than they had appeared in the
+full light of day. They were big men, all muscle, and they carried pick
+handles in their brawny fists. Jeff felt a cold chill ripple down his
+spine, for it looked as though the least Tarrant Enterprises, Ltd., was
+about to lose was its entire capital stock. He tried to take command of
+the situation.
+
+"Good evening, gentlemen! I thought you'd be back! I was sure you are an
+intelligent--"
+
+One of the men said, "Take him, Buff."
+
+The two parted to come at Jeff from both sides. He looked longingly at a
+club lying near the fire, and as though he had read Jeff's mind, the man
+called Buff stood on the club. Jeff backed slowly toward the water. He
+might lose the pack. But he intended to keep his money and he had no
+intention of letting anyone work him over with a pick handle. As he
+retreated, he felt with his feet for rocks, clubs, anything at all with
+which to fight back. The two men advanced slowly, and Jeff risked a
+backward glance to see himself within three paces of the water. There
+was only sand beneath his feet.
+
+At exactly that moment, the dog appeared.
+
+He came slowly, with dignity, but uncertainly, because he was not sure
+of a welcome. Neither was he able to restrain himself any longer. For
+more than a half hour he had hidden in the grass, studying and entranced
+by Jeff. Now he had to find out whether he was acceptable. He halted
+four feet away, not caring to go any closer until he was sure.
+
+Seeing him, Jeff saw his own salvation. He snapped his fingers and said,
+"Well! Where have you been keeping yourself?"
+
+The dog sighed ecstatically. For so very long he had sought someone and
+now at last he had found him. He came forward to brush his shaggy back
+against Jeff's thighs, and he looked up at the two men.
+
+Huge, a wild and savage-appearing thing, even in the full light of day,
+he was even more so by the fire's dancing glow. His eyes sparked. His
+pendulous jowls seemed taut and strained, and though he regarded the two
+men with suspicion only, neither could know that. They backed.
+
+Jeff patted the big dog's head and said amiably, "Just my dog. Just my
+little old dog. I need some help while I attend to the far-flung
+business of Tarrant Enterprises, Ltd." His tone became slightly
+reproachful and he said to the dog, "Here! Here! Don't bite them now!"
+
+The two men scrambled up the embankment and disappeared.
+
+
+
+
+2. BAD LUCK
+
+
+Where it flowed into the pool beneath the bridge, the creek made
+rippling little noises. A swimming muskrat, going upstream and suddenly
+seeing the fire and the two beside it, splashed as he dived. From
+somewhere up in the forested hills there floated an owl's mournful cry.
+Over all murmured a caressing little breeze which, while still soft with
+summer's gentleness, had within it a foretaste of autumn's cold.
+
+Shaken, Jeff stood a moment. It was not the first time anyone had tried
+to strong-arm his pack away from him, but it was the closest anyone had
+ever come to succeeding. His fright ebbed away. Tarrant Enterprises,
+Ltd., had led him into other unusual situations and doubtless would lead
+into more. He turned to the dog.
+
+"Welcome, Pal!" he said grandly. "From now to forever you may share the
+fortunes of Tarrant Enterprises, Ltd.! But what the dickens sent you at
+exactly the right time?"
+
+The dog quivered with delight. He had wandered for so long, his only aim
+to find someone who would be glad of his company, and at last his goal
+was reached! He wagged a happy tail and licked Jeff's hand with the tip
+of a moist, warm tongue. Though he would never cringe, the dog would
+appease, and now that he had found someone, in order to stay near he
+would appease any way he could. Jeff's exploring hand found the dog's
+matted head and ears, and a puzzled frown wrinkled his forehead.
+
+"Whoever you belong to hasn't been taking very good care of you," he
+murmured. "Haven't you ever been brushed?"
+
+His hands dropped farther, to the dog's sides, and when he touched the
+right front shoulder the great animal winced and brought his head
+quickly around. Jeff had found the place which the chunk of wood had
+struck, and that was painful. But the dog did not bare his teeth or
+growl. Jeff took his hands away.
+
+"You've been hurt, Pal," he said understandingly. "Here, let me feel it
+once more."
+
+Very gently, pressing no harder than was necessary, he went over the
+right shoulder again. He could feel no broken bones, but just beneath
+the skin was a jelly-like mass of congealed blood, and when Jeff brought
+his hand away his fingers were sticky with blood. Next he found the
+wound inflicted by the brindle bull, and as he continued to explore his
+puzzlement increased.
+
+The dog wore a round leather collar that formerly might have fitted
+well, but because he was thin, it now hung loosely. There was no license
+or identifying tag. Starved to gauntness, obviously the animal had been
+receiving neither food nor attention. His long fur was matted, and there
+were so many burrs of various kinds entangled in it that there was
+almost no hope of grooming him properly.
+
+The conviction grew upon Jeff that this dog was a stray, and that he
+had come to the fire because there was no other place for him. Either
+he'd lost his master or the master had lost him, and in either event, he
+was homeless. Jeff frowned.
+
+The whole success of Tarrant Enterprises, Ltd., hinged on its being
+entirely footloose. There were places to go, and often it was essential
+to go there in somewhat of a hurry. Obviously, it would be impossible to
+take a dog this size on a train, and certainly nobody with any sort of
+vehicle would be inclined to pick him up.
+
+Jeff said good-humoredly, "Why the dickens couldn't you have been one of
+those flea-sized dogs that I might have tucked in my pocket?"
+
+The dog wagged his tail and looked at this friendly human with happy
+eyes. Jeff rubbed his huge head and tried to think a way out of his
+dilemma. Surely the big fellow had no home and was loose on the
+countryside. Familiar with stray dogs, Jeff knew that just one fate
+awaited them; sooner or later, but surely, they were killed. Ordinarily
+the young trader would have confined himself to pity. But this dog had
+helped him when he was in desperate need of help. He must not be
+abandoned now.
+
+Perhaps, Jeff thought, he could find a family that would give the dog a
+home--but he abandoned the notion almost as soon as it glimmered. How
+many families wanted a dog half the size of a Shetland pony? Maybe he
+could pay someone to take care of him. But how could he be sure that the
+dog would be cared for and not abused? There was no way to check. Six
+weeks from now, depending on where Tarrant Enterprises, Ltd., led him,
+Jeff might be a hundred or a thousand miles away. He did not know when,
+if ever, he would come back. The happy thought that first things must be
+first occurred to him.
+
+While the dog looked gravely on, he tilted his bubbling coffee away from
+the fire and unwrapped the chicken. The dog licked his lips and riveted
+his gaze on the fowl. Jeff grinned. He'd been told that dogs should not
+have chicken bones. But unless they were always tied or penned, sooner
+or later most dogs found and ate them. At any rate, the dog had to eat
+and there wasn't anything except chicken, bread and butter. Jeff sliced
+both legs from the chicken and ordered,
+
+"Sit!"
+
+The dog sat; obviously he had had training. When Jeff extended a chicken
+leg, the dog took it from him so gently that only his lips touched
+Jeff's hand, but when he had the leg in his mouth he tore all the meat
+from it with one turn of his jaws. Then he ground the bone to bits and
+swallowed that too. Jeff looked at the two bites he had taken from his
+own drumstick.
+
+"Hey!" he protested. "Just because you're company, you don't have to
+gobble everything in sight!"
+
+He looked determinedly away and took another bite of chicken, but he
+felt the dog's appealing eyes on him and turned back again.
+
+"If you could talk," he said resignedly, "you could be sales manager for
+Tarrant Enterprises, Ltd. You certainly know how to sell yourself."
+
+Jeff cut a wing, gave it to the dog, and watched in fascination while it
+went the way of, and as fast as, the chicken leg. He cut the loaf of
+bread into six thick slices, spread an equal amount of butter on each,
+and saw the dog gulp five of them. Jeff ate as rapidly as he could; if
+he was going to get anything, he had to get it fast. He watched while
+the dog ate all the rest of the chicken and cleaned and swallowed the
+splintered bones.
+
+"If you're going to be a partner," he observed, "you'd better learn to
+pay your own way. I'll go broke just feeding you. Oh, well, we can
+always have nice fresh air for breakfast. Now I'm going to work on you,
+Pal. You do look sort of wild and woolly and it might help both of us
+stay out of trouble if you didn't. Down!"
+
+The dog lay down, eyes glowing happily, and Jeff used gentle fingers to
+untangle his fur. Where it was matted too tightly, he cut it off with a
+pair of scissors. Separating a hair at a time and using as little
+pressure as possible, he worked on the injured right side. Then he took
+a brush from his pack and brushed the dog smooth.
+
+When he was finished, the animal still looked huge. His eyes sparked in
+the firelight and his flabby jaws loaned him an air of grimness. But his
+coat was no longer tangled or burr-matted. He looked forbidding enough
+so that it was easy to understand why the two track workers, seeing him
+and thinking he was Jeff's, had decided to run. Even though they were
+armed with pick handles, anyone at all might well hesitate to make rash
+moves around this mammoth creature.
+
+"Now we have to get wood, Pal," Jeff told his new friend. "The nights in
+mountain country are apt to be on the cool side."
+
+He cast around for driftwood that the creek had thrown onto its banks
+and when he had an armful, he dumped it near the fire. Always the dog
+padded beside or behind him, as though fearful he would lose this kind
+master should he wander more than a foot from him. Jeff threw some wood
+on the fire and a shower of sparks floated into the air. The dog curled
+contentedly near when he lay down with his back against the boulder.
+
+Jeff awakened at periodic intervals to throw more wood on the fire, and
+in the misty gray of early morning he was aroused by the unmistakable
+sound of a freight train making up. He listened intently; it paid to
+understand freight trains. He hadn't known how far off Cressman was, but
+he knew now. Judging by the sound of the freight train--the railroad
+yards must be in Cressman--it was about one mile or twenty minutes' walk
+away.
+
+Without getting up, the dog bared his gleaming fangs in a cavernous
+yawn. He rose, stretched, came to Jeff for a morning caress, and drank
+from the creek. Jeff looked admiringly at him. The dog was one of the
+biggest he'd ever seen, but he moved with all the grace of a much
+smaller animal. Jeff dipped water, prodded his fire and put fresh coffee
+on to brew. The dog looked expectantly at him.
+
+"You ate it all last night," Jeff explained. "There isn't a thing left
+unless maybe you like coffee."
+
+The dog sniffed about to lick up splinters of bone and Jeff looked at
+his big pocket watch. He lay back against the boulder, pillowing his
+head on his hands and blinking into the rising sun.
+
+"Quarter to six," he told his companion. "And we have to time our
+arrival in this metropolis almost to the minute. Time waits for no man,
+but we'll wait for time."
+
+The freight labored toward them, rumbled over the bridge and sent a
+shower of dust and cinder particles down. Sitting a little ways from the
+fire, the dog did not even look up. Jeff poured a cup of black coffee,
+sipped it, and the dog licked his chops. He was not as hungry as he had
+been, for last night's meal was a satisfying one. But he had been so
+long without food that he would have eaten had there been anything to
+eat.
+
+Jeff still lolled idly against the boulder. Dogs were welcome in some
+towns and unwelcome in others, and Jeff had never been to Cressman. But
+it was a county seat, there was sure to be a court house, and court
+houses opened at nine sharp. Jeff wanted to be there at that time but
+not before. If the dog had a license, even though some might protest his
+presence, they could do nothing about it as long as he was accompanied
+by Jeff.
+
+Finishing his coffee, Jeff poured another cupful, drank it and dozed for
+a while. Though he had had a long rest, it was well to sleep while he
+could. Often Tarrant Enterprises, Ltd., walked into a situation where
+there was no possibility of any rest. At exactly twenty minutes to nine,
+with the dog beside him, Jeff started down the tracks.
+
+Cressman, he saw when he entered its outskirts, was a good-sized town
+and typical. Neat white houses framed both sides of the street. The
+business section would be farther on, and naturally the large building
+with a flag pole on top would be the court house. Jeff walked swiftly,
+paying no attention to the stares directed at him. He had expected the
+dog to arouse notice. The clock over its entrance pointed to nine when
+he reached the court house.
+
+The dog close beside him, Jeff entered and turned down a corridor where
+a white-lettered black sign indicated that licenses might be had. He
+paused beside a grilled window behind which was draped a lank,
+black-haired, heavy-eyed, middle-aged clerk who looked as though he had
+never been fully awake. Without glancing around, the clerk asked a
+weary, "Yes?"
+
+"I want a license."
+
+"What kind?"
+
+"What kinds do you have?"
+
+"Hunting, fishing, marriage, building, auto, dog, store, café--"
+
+"A wide-enough choice. I want a dog license."
+
+Jeff took the yellow form and the pencil that were offered to him and
+started to write. He turned the pencil sideways and pressed until the
+lead broke. Jeff handed it back.
+
+"This is no good. I'll use one of my own."
+
+His hand stole into the pack and brought forth a mechanical pencil. Not
+looking at the clerk, Jeff gave absorbed attention to the yellow form.
+Under "sex" he wrote "male." When he came to "age" he looked shrewdly at
+the dog and penciled in "3 yrs." "Breed" proved difficult, but not for
+very long. Sure that nobody else would know it either, Jeff wrote
+"Algerian boar hound." "Name" was simple. Happily Jeff wrote "Pal" and
+shoved the slip back through the grill.
+
+The clerk was staring intently at the pencil. "Where'd you get that?"
+
+"This?" Jeff held the pencil up. "It's a Bagstone, the newest thing. I
+wouldn't be without one."
+
+"Want to sell it?"
+
+"_Uh-uh._ I have only a couple left and I may need them."
+
+"What's it cost?"
+
+"A dollar."
+
+"License is fifty cents. Can we swap?"
+
+Jeff passed the pencil through the grill, but instead of the expected
+fifty cents, the clerk handed him another slip of paper.
+
+"What's this?"
+
+"Peddler's license and you're a peddler. They cost fifty cents, so we're
+even."
+
+Jeff, who had thought the clerk a naïve rustic, grinned his appreciation
+of someone else who knew how to get what he wanted and started down the
+corridor. He was still cheerful; he'd bought a dozen of the pencils for
+two dollars, and all except two were sold. It was a good sign, and he
+might do a brisk business in Cressman. He hadn't thought so when he came
+in because there were many stores, and usually people would not buy from
+a peddler if they could get what they wanted at a store. But Jeff felt
+lucky.
+
+Coming in, he'd been in too much of a hurry to reach the court house to
+pay much attention to the town. Now he had an opportunity to examine it
+closely.
+
+Between 2500 and 3000 people, he guessed, lived in Cressman. They were
+supported by the railroad yards and by a sawmill whose screeching saw
+made a hideous noise on that end of town which Jeff had not yet visited,
+and the workers must be well paid because there was every evidence of
+prosperity. The wooden sidewalks were well cared for, the dirt streets
+were clean, the horses on the streets were good animals that cost a fair
+amount of money, and there were a few autos with brass-fronted
+radiators.
+
+These were all good signs. The fact that the stores seemed well
+patronized was bad, but Jeff wouldn't be able to tell until he had done
+some canvassing of his own, and he wanted to do that before getting
+breakfast for Pal and himself. Trade ran in cycles. If one Cressmanite
+was quarreling with the storekeepers, the chances were good that the
+person's friends would be similarly disposed to take an unkind view of
+merchants. If there were several such quarrels, Jeff might do a thriving
+business.
+
+The young trader took an unobtrusive stand beside a store whose sign
+read "JOHN T. ALLEN, GENERAL MERCHANDISE." Beneath that, in smaller
+letters was, "The best of everything for everyone at the lowest prices."
+Pal sat down as close as he could get and touched Jeff's dangling hand
+with a cold nose.
+
+There were few people on the street, but that was to be expected at this
+hour. The workers would be working, the housewives taking care of their
+houses and the children playing. Jeff's eyes roved down the main street.
+He located and filed away in his mind the doctor's office, the dentist,
+the stores, the blacksmith shop, the livery stable and other business
+establishments. He knew where the sawmill was and he saw two church
+steeples. With few exceptions, all the rest would be homes. It was a
+good, substantial town, one of many such that Jeff had visited.
+
+He looked with mingled wistfulness and amusement at a boy plodding down
+the sidewalk toward him. About eight years old, the youngster wore a
+faded shirt, torn pants, and had a dirty face that was lighted by bright
+eyes and a grin. He shuffled along, being careful to step only on the
+cracks in the sidewalk and kicking at small objects in his path. Then he
+saw the dog. His head went up, his grin became a smile, and he hurried
+to pause in front of Jeff and Pal.
+
+"Gee!" he breathed. "Is he ever big! What's his name?"
+
+"Pal," Jeff answered. "Do you like big dogs, son?"
+
+"I like all dogs. Does he bite?"
+
+"Gentle as a kitten. Go ahead and pet him."
+
+Pal stood, his head reaching almost to the youngster's shoulders, and
+wagged a welcoming tail at the hand stretched toward him. The boy
+tickled Pal's ears and smoothed his muzzle.
+
+"Wish he was mine!" he sighed.
+
+"Don't you have a dog?"
+
+"My paw," the boy said mournfully, "won't let me have one. Well, I got
+to go down to Skinner's and get Maw some sugar."
+
+"Take this."
+
+Jeff drew a peppermint stick from his pack and extended it. The boy took
+it with the same hand he had used to pet Pal and grinned his thanks.
+Jeff watched him skip down the street and sighed. He liked everybody,
+but he had an especially soft spot in his heart for children. Besides,
+it was good business. Should he decide to make a house-to-house canvass,
+he had already paved the way in at least one home.
+
+Two women passed, going to the far side of the walk and keeping their
+eyes averted when they reached Jeff, and a man came from the opposite
+direction. Without seeming to, Jeff studied him.
+
+About thirty, the man was slim and supple. Snapping black eyes and a
+pert waxed mustache betrayed his French origin, and from his quick, sure
+steps he was a woodsman. He swerved into John T. Allen's store and Jeff
+decided that he was a man of short temper. A moment later, that opinion
+was borne out.
+
+"_Sacré!_" came an outraged roar. "You are a dog among dogs! A pig among
+pigs! You cheat the honest people!"
+
+There came a snappish but calmer voice. "Take it easy, Pierre."
+
+"Nev-air!" Pierre shouted. "Nev-air, and nev-air do I come back!" He
+bristled out of the store, turned to fling a final "Nev-air, pig!" back
+into it, and confronted Jeff.
+
+"You know what he do?" he screamed. "I need the knife, the good hunting
+knife! For it he wants a doll-air and twenty-five cents!"
+
+"Maybe they're worth that much."
+
+"_Non!_ Nev-air!" He looked seriously at Jeff. "You sell the hunting
+knife?"
+
+"I do not compete with merchants."
+
+"You sell the hunting knife?" Pierre repeated.
+
+"I--"
+
+"Sell me the hunting knife!"
+
+"But--"
+
+"This I demand! Sell me the hunting knife!"
+
+With every show of reluctance, Jeff drew a hunting knife with a
+three-inch blade from his pack. Pierre snatched it and his eyes lighted
+deliriously.
+
+"How much?"
+
+"A dollar and twenty cents."
+
+"Is good!"
+
+Pierre pressed a rumpled dollar bill and two dimes into Jeff's hand,
+danced back to the store entrance and waved the knife as though he were
+about to go scalping with it.
+
+"See!" he screamed at the storekeeper. "Dog! See! The pedd-lair, he do
+better than you! I have the hunting knife!"
+
+Pierre stamped fiercely away and Jeff settled back to watch. But only
+for a moment.
+
+The man who came out of the store was no more than five feet three and
+so thin that he seemed in imminent danger of collapsing. His nose,
+covering a fair share of his face, was oddly like a rudder. A few
+strands of blond hair clung precariously to his head and his eyes were
+furious.
+
+"Did you sell that man a knife?"
+
+"Yes, I did."
+
+Without further ceremony, but with a roar that seemed incapable of
+emerging from one so small, the storekeeper bellowed,
+
+"Joe!"
+
+It was a signal Jeff had heard many times in many voices that expressed
+it many ways. This was one of the occasions when Tarrant Enterprises,
+Ltd., had better move fast. The dog fell in beside him as Jeff started
+to run. He was too late, though.
+
+It was as though the storekeeper possessed some magical quality that
+could conjure up images at will. Jeff's path was suddenly blocked by a
+burly two-hundred-and-ten-pound man who wore a gun, a constable's badge,
+an air of authority, and who had never wasted any time acquiring fat. He
+loomed over Jeff as a mountain looms over a knoll.
+
+"What's up?" he demanded.
+
+"This peddler," the storekeeper reverted to his customary snappish
+voice, "is interfering with merchants. He sold Pierre LeLerc a hunting
+knife."
+
+"Did you?" the constable asked Jeff.
+
+"Yes, but I have a license."
+
+"It's not one that allows you to peddle in business districts," the
+storekeeper asserted. "Jail him, Joe."
+
+"You comin' peaceable?" the constable asked. "Or should I take you!"
+
+"Peaceable," Jeff answered hurriedly. "Always peaceable."
+
+"Come on, then. Your dog got a license?"
+
+"Look for yourself. Just sort of watch your hand."
+
+"That dog bite?"
+
+"Not usually."
+
+"See that he don't, huh?"
+
+"I'll see," Jeff promised.
+
+He fell resignedly in beside the constable while Pal paced behind him.
+He thought ruefully of how little a feeling of good fortune could be
+trusted. Still, by no means would this be the first jail to have him as
+guest, and probably it would not be the last. He might as well make the
+best of it.
+
+"Nice town you have here," he said companionably.
+
+"Yeah," the constable was entirely willing to be friendly, "it's all
+right."
+
+"How long have you been chief of police in Cressman?"
+
+"Nine years. Say! That's a good title! Chief of Police, huh?"
+
+"You should call yourself that," Jeff asserted. "Do you have much
+trouble?"
+
+The constable shrugged. "It depends."
+
+"There's just one thing I wonder about," Jeff said. "I've met a lot of
+police in a lot of towns. All the rest had silver badges. How come yours
+is brass?"
+
+"It was silver when I got it," the constable said ruefully. "Blame thing
+turned color on me."
+
+"Why don't you polish it?"
+
+"I do ever' night. Use soap and all. Can't do a thing with it."
+
+"Have you tried Blecker's Silver Polish?"
+
+"What's that?"
+
+"A polish for badges."
+
+"Never heard of it."
+
+"Some store in Cressman should stock it."
+
+"They don't. I've tried everything they have." He looked searchingly at
+Jeff. "Do you have any?"
+
+"Yes but," Jeff laughed nervously, "you've already got me on one charge.
+I wouldn't care to be up on two."
+
+"Let me see it," the constable urged.
+
+"I'd better not."
+
+"I won't tell a person, and you have the word of Joe Parker for that.
+Come on. Let's sneak behind this fence and have a look."
+
+"Well--"
+
+In the shadow of the fence, Jeff took a jar of Blecker's Unique Silver
+Polish from his pack, dipped an end of his handkerchief lightly into it,
+and carefully rubbed a small portion of the badge. As though by magic,
+the tarnish disappeared and bright silver gleamed where it had been.
+
+"How much does that cost?" the constable breathed.
+
+"Thirty cents a jar, but you've treated me so nicely, I'll let you have
+two for fifty cents."
+
+"Thanks." The constable slipped the two jars into his trousers pocket,
+gave Jeff a half dollar, and said, "Guess we'd better get to jail."
+
+"Guess we had."
+
+The constable steered Jeff and Pal back to the court house but took them
+into the basement, instead of the main entrance. There were two windows
+with a desk beneath them, and behind the desk sat a gray-haired man
+with a friendly face but a weary smile. In the dimly-lighted corridor
+beyond were four jail cells.
+
+The constable paused at the desk. "Hi, Pop," he greeted the jailer.
+"This peddler was peddlin' near stores. You tell him what to do with his
+dog and pack, huh?"
+
+Without another glance at Jeff, Joe Parker turned and started back
+toward the entrance. Even as he walked, he industriously polished his
+badge.
+
+
+
+
+3. ESCAPE
+
+
+The jailer tilted his chair, clamped both hands behind his head, and
+looked steadily at the new arrival. Jeff stood still, sensing something
+here that had not been evident at first glance. Pop had a kindly face
+and a weary smile, but were they a mask? After a moment, he spoke.
+
+"What are you doing here, boy?"
+
+"Getting in jail."
+
+"You're a peddler?"
+
+"I represent Tarrant Enterprises, Ltd. Now I have here--"
+
+"Whoa! Whoa there! I see a lot of peddlers. My knife is all right, my
+watch is all right, I don't need tooth picks, tooth brushes, or anything
+else, and I haven't any family. How long have you been peddling?"
+
+"Quite a spell."
+
+"You ever been in trouble before?"
+
+Jeff said blandly, "I've been in jail before."
+
+"You're just a kid and I don't like to see kids in trouble," the jailer
+murmured sadly.
+
+"How much trouble am I in?"
+
+"You'll be kept until you can be brought before Justice Murphy. He'll
+fine you five dollars and tell you to get out of town."
+
+"Can't I see him now?"
+
+"Justice Murphy," the jailer said, "has gone fishing. He won't be back
+for a week."
+
+"Then I'm to be your guest for a week?"
+
+"It looks that way. Might as well get you checked in."
+
+He took a pad of forms from the desk and balanced a pencil. In the
+proper places he inscribed Jeff's name, age, the offense with which he
+was charged, and other pertinent data. He looked closely at what he had
+written, and from the dark cells in back came a shouted, "Hey, Pop!
+Who's the new tenant?"
+
+"Shut up, Ike."
+
+"Aw, bring him back, Pop. Bucky and me'd like to meet him."
+
+"You two be quiet," Pop reprimanded the prisoner. Then he addressed
+Jeff. "Ike Wilson and Bucky Edwards--they finally got caught."
+
+"What for?"
+
+"Stealing chickens."
+
+Jeff looked unbelieving and the jailer's face became less gentle. For a
+moment he was almost stern.
+
+"That's serious. It isn't a light matter."
+
+"I know."
+
+"Then why did you look so doubtful?"
+
+"It seems a few chickens are hardly worth a jail sentence."
+
+"They're not, and neither is anything else, but some people never learn
+that. It just happens those boys weren't satisfied with one chicken.
+They got three thousand that anybody knows about."
+
+"Whew!"
+
+"They'll pay for it. Now, Jeff, I'll have to take your dog."
+
+Jeff sparred for time. He had known other people in similar
+circumstances whose dog had been taken away, and half the time they'd
+simply disappeared. That they'd sickened and died was the usual story,
+but actually they'd been destroyed because it was too much trouble to
+take care of them. Outwardly, Jeff affected an air of supreme
+indifference.
+
+"Sure," he agreed. "Go ahead. Just be careful. Pal doesn't like a lot of
+people and he bites whoever he dislikes. Better be careful he gets his
+regular feeding every day, too. That's four pounds of the best ground
+steak. He hates everybody if he doesn't get it."
+
+"Yeah?" Pop was not at all friendly now. "Suppose he gets sick?"
+
+"If I don't get him back--and in as good a shape as when he was taken
+away--I know a couple of good lawyers."
+
+"Lawyers cost money."
+
+"I have a certain amount of influence."
+
+Pop rubbed his chin reflectively and stared at the window. "I suppose
+you could keep him in your cell if you want to pay for his board."
+
+"I might," Jeff said, knowing he had won this round and that his chance
+shot had hit the bull's-eye. Obviously, for reasons of his own, Pop did
+not care to have any lawyers investigating anything. "How good a cell?"
+
+Pop was all brittle now. "If you've been in other cells, you know how
+good. How old are you?"
+
+"Old enough to land in jail. That tie you're wearing, Pop. It hardly
+befits the dignity of your position and--"
+
+"I told you not to try to sell anything to me! Maybe, just maybe, we can
+think up some other charge."
+
+"We'd buy if we had any money!" the man in the back cell yelled. "What's
+your name, peddler?"
+
+"Jeff Tarrant, representing Tarrant Enterprises, Ltd. The most quality
+for the most discriminating people."
+
+"What's that dis-dingus mean?"
+
+"It means shut up!" Pop snarled. "You're a smart one, huh?"
+
+Jeff said meekly, "All I know is black from white. I take my pack in the
+cell too, don't I?"
+
+"No!"
+
+"I know exactly what's in it," Jeff warned, "and I know just what to do
+if even a penny's worth is missing. Maybe I know what to do if nothing's
+missing."
+
+"We can get tough, too."
+
+"I want that pack."
+
+"All right. Keep it and come on."
+
+Pal stayed very close to Jeff as Pop led them toward the cells. The two
+chicken thieves came to the front of theirs and clasped the bars with
+their hands. They were wholly delighted because, in his brush with Jeff,
+Pop had come off second best. Jeff grinned back at them.
+
+"Hi, Jeff! Got anything to make our happy home happier?"
+
+"Tarrant Enterprises, Ltd., has something for everyone and can please
+you. Here is a nice hack saw."
+
+"I'll take that," Pop said.
+
+"You'll take it for thirty-nine cents."
+
+"Hand it over. You'll get it back when you leave."
+
+"Well--" Jeff gave him the hack saw and the pair in the adjoining cell
+roared with laughter.
+
+Pop asked, "Got any more?"
+
+"Unfortunately, the hack saw department is understocked and our new
+order has not arrived."
+
+"Get in."
+
+Pop unlocked a cell and Jeff and Pal entered. The bars were in front
+only; the cells were separated by brick walls. Adjusting his eyes to the
+gloomy interior, Jeff saw two bunks with dirty mattresses suspended by
+chains that were attached to the wall. There was an iron stand upon
+which stood a chipped basin and a faded towel. Beneath the stand was a
+bucket. Pop slammed the door.
+
+"I sleep in front," he advised. "I've got a sawed-off shotgun and I know
+how to use it. Besides, just trying to break out can mean six months in
+prison. Think it over."
+
+"Sure." Jeff smiled.
+
+Pop strode back to the desk while the two chicken thieves shouted
+raucous insults. Jeff lost himself in thought.
+
+The situation had been quite obvious from the moment he entered the
+jail. Few towns had a full-time jailer for two or three
+prisoners--unless there were other factors involved--and almost without
+exception such factors existed only when there were certain affairs that
+would not bear close examination. The majority of Cressman's citizens
+probably were honest, hard-working people, but some of its officials
+were not. The fact that they could be dishonest only because the rest
+were indifferent to the way their town's affairs were conducted did not
+change the situation. If he were one of the inside clique, Pop would
+have a better job, but he evidently knew enough so that he had to be
+given something in order to prevent his talking. Pop's reaction when
+Jeff expressed such utter willingness to take the matter up with an
+attorney--offered additional proof of this.
+
+Jeff let his hand fondle Pal's head as he considered his chances. There
+was little possibility of breaking out by force and it would not be a
+good idea to do so anyway. As things stood, he faced a minor charge.
+Breaking jail was a major one. It was illegal to keep him confined for
+seven days without benefit of counsel, but that could be brushed over.
+They could always claim that they had held him on suspicion of some more
+serious charge.
+
+Jeff sighed. He held a club over Cressman, but Cressman held him in
+jail. He scratched Pal's ears and murmured,
+
+"Let it never be said that Tarrant Enterprises, Ltd., gave way to
+despair."
+
+"What'd you say, Jeff?" Ike called.
+
+"Comfortable home," Jeff answered gaily.
+
+"Counted the cockroaches in your private suite?"
+
+"Not yet."
+
+"We got forty-seven," Ike said proudly. "One nigh as big as that dog of
+yours. What you got in your pack?"
+
+"Candles?" Jeff suggested.
+
+"Law! If Bucky and me had any money, we'd buy some."
+
+Jeff took three candles, which he bought for a penny and sold for three
+cents each, from his pocket. He handed two of them and a half dozen
+matches around the end of his cell.
+
+"A gift from Tarrant Enterprises, Ltd."
+
+"Thanks, Tarrant what-you-call-it. We'll pay you soon's we've found us a
+fortune."
+
+"I'll count on it," Jeff said.
+
+He lighted the third candle, dripped wax from it onto the iron stand,
+and set it upright in its own drippings. By its flickering light, he
+examined the cell more closely. It was what he had expected. The floor
+was dirty, the mattresses only a little less so, and cockroaches
+scurried for cracks.
+
+Jeff let his hand brush Pal's head again. Completely trusting, the dog
+wagged his tail and shoved his nose against his master's thigh. Dragging
+the mattress from the top bunk, Jeff laid it on the floor. Conceivably,
+even a dog would protest against sleeping up there.
+
+Hunger reminded Jeff that neither he nor Pal had eaten anything since
+last night, and again he took refuge in the happy thought that first
+things must be first. He edged up to the bars and said softly,
+
+"Ike."
+
+"Yeah?"
+
+"Where's the food come from around here?"
+
+"The garbage can," Ike answered sadly. "Anyhow, that's what I think."
+
+"Can we get any other?"
+
+"If you got money, you can ask Pop."
+
+"Nothing like trying." Jeff raised his voice, "Hey, Pop!"
+
+"What do you want?"
+
+"How about something to eat?"
+
+"It's not lunch time."
+
+"How about some anyhow?"
+
+"Got any money?"
+
+Jeff replied mournfully, "A few pennies that I've been saving for my old
+age. I can pay for it."
+
+Pop came to the cell. "What you want?"
+
+"Three loaves of bread and three half pounds of cheese."
+
+"Let's have the money."
+
+"_Uh-uh._ Bring it first."
+
+"Show me the money."
+
+Jeff held up two crumpled dollar bills. Pop walked to the entrance and
+there came the click of his key turning in the lock. Breathless silence
+reigned; this was a momentous occasion that must be properly observed.
+Ten minutes later the key clicked again and Pop came in with parcels.
+
+"Three loaves of bread," he read from a slip, "eighteen cents. A pound
+and a half of cheese, thirty cents. And," he looked maliciously at Jeff,
+"four pounds of the best ground steak for the dog, one dollar."
+
+Jeff grinned; his own words had backfired on him. He had intended to
+give Pal a loaf of bread and a half pound of cheese, to offer the same
+to those in the next cell, and to keep as much for himself. But he did
+not lose his aplomb.
+
+"Exactly!" he exclaimed. "Just what I wanted! But I wouldn't think of
+paying in money when I can offer something of great value! Now--"
+
+"Give me the money," Pop growled. "A dollar and forty-eight cents."
+
+"Oh, well, if you must be crass--" Jeff gave him a dollar bill and
+forty-eight cents in change. "Give my pals in the next cell a loaf of
+bread and a pound of cheese."
+
+"Thanks!" Ike said feelingly, and even the silent Bucky mumbled his
+gratitude. Jeff laid his pack on the lower bunk, put his food on the
+pack, and made two sandwiches with a half pound of raw ground steak
+between each. He spread a paper, scooped two pounds of steak upon it,
+and gave it to Pal. The rest of the steak he passed into the next cell.
+
+"This," Ike exclaimed, "is as good as a hotel! Best grub I ever threw a
+lip over! Jeff, if ever you want a helping hand, you can count on me and
+Bucky!"
+
+"I'll remember," Jeff promised.
+
+He ate his two sandwiches while Pal licked thoroughly the paper in which
+the steak had been wrapped. Then he looked up appealingly and Jeff threw
+him a quarter loaf of bread. The rest of the food he put in his pack. He
+heard Ike's whispered,
+
+"Jeff."
+
+Jeff went to the front of the cell. "Yes?"
+
+"You want to get out of here, I'll make like I'm sick. When that old
+fool comes in, Bucky and me will grab him and get his keys. We'll give
+'em to you and you can beat it."
+
+"What about you?"
+
+"Ha!" Ike scoffed. "They can't do much more to us than they're already
+going to do!"
+
+"Thanks just the same, but we'd better not."
+
+"You like this hole?"
+
+"No, but there must be a better way."
+
+"There's none quicker."
+
+"I know. Thanks anyway. Why don't you two get out?"
+
+"We don't das't," Ike mourned. "How'd we know, when we got Bill
+Wheeler's chickens, that Bill'd call his seven brothers in? They're
+asettin' round the town, just waitin' for me and Bucky to break loose,
+and every one of 'em with a rifle. When Bucky and me go out of Cressman,
+we got to go with officers."
+
+Jeff chuckled. "Too bad, Ike. But I don't want to break jail."
+
+The day wore on. Grown accustomed to the candle light, the cockroaches
+came out of their cracks and scurried across the floor. This proved
+vastly intriguing to Pal, who watched them interestedly. He made quick
+little rushes, but the cockroaches always escaped. Jeff walked
+restlessly around the small cell. There had to be a way out because
+there was a way out of everything, but he could think of nothing.
+
+Suddenly inspired, he called, "Pop!"
+
+"What?"
+
+"I--I just wanted to see if you were still there."
+
+"Of course I'm here."
+
+Jeff, who had intended to hold a five-dollar bill against the cell bars
+and indicate that it would be Pop's in exchange for freedom, abandoned
+the plan almost as soon as he conceived it because it was hardly
+consistent with the business policies of Tarrant Enterprises, Ltd., or
+with its standards. He must pay for nothing if he could trade, and there
+had to be something he could trade for release.
+
+Bucky said fretfully, "Jeff."
+
+"What do you want?"
+
+"Got anything in that pack of yours that'll help pass time?"
+
+"How about some music?"
+
+"Anything!"
+
+Jeff took from his pocket a small mouth organ with which he often
+beguiled the hours. He was happy again, and his smile glowed once more.
+He'd been thinking too hard. If he relaxed with the mouth organ for a
+little while, and cleared his mind, he would get some new ideas. By way
+of tuning up, he blew a soft note and the cell erupted.
+
+Pal, who had been lying quietly on the mattress, leaped to his feet,
+pointed his head erect, and voiced a weird howl. It was not the cry of a
+dog but a banshee shriek, a wailing of lost souls and tortured beings,
+and it filled the room like a solid substance. Descending on a low moan,
+it stopped. Pal lifted his lips and snarled fiercely.
+
+The two in the next cell gave way to hysterical laughter and Pop bustled
+from his desk.
+
+"You'll have to keep that dog--"
+
+He took a backward step as Pal snarled again. The mouth organ hidden in
+his hand, Jeff stood innocently. Pop stared.
+
+"Why does he do that?"
+
+"I don't know."
+
+"You'll have to keep him quiet."
+
+"I'll try," Jeff promised.
+
+His blue eyes were dancing and his smile broadened. Some dogs were
+affected by sounds beyond those which normally came to their ears, and
+Jeff had never decided whether they reacted because certain noises
+grated harshly on their ears, because some sounds reminded them of a
+battle or other experience, or if they were merely inclined to be in
+tune. Obviously Pal was given to the latter sort of response. Waiting
+until Pop returned to the desk, Jeff blew the same note as softly.
+
+Pal responded with a whole chorus of shrieks that began on a tenor note
+and ascended to a high soprano. The echoes rolled back from the walls
+and seemed to bound forward again. It was almost an incredible thing
+that was promptly repeated when Jeff blew another note.
+
+"Shut that dog up!" Pop shrieked.
+
+"I'm trying!" Jeff said desperately.
+
+The door opened. Joe Parker came in. Jeff blew again, very softly, and
+Pal's immediate response filled the room. Their faces angry, Pop and the
+constable appeared in front of the cell and shouted to make themselves
+heard.
+
+"Quiet!"
+
+"What'd you say?" Jeff yelled.
+
+"Quiet!"
+
+Pal stopped howling, but he stopped so abruptly that the constable still
+shouted.
+
+"If you can't make that dog be quiet, I'll take him out of here!"
+
+Pal voiced the snarl that followed his howling and both men stepped
+back. Joe Parker's hand dipped to his gun.
+
+"You don't have to shout," Jeff soothed. "I can hear you. And I wouldn't
+shoot, either. The dog's mine, he can't possibly hurt you, and there are
+two witnesses who will prove it."
+
+"Sure thing," Ike agreed happily. "Bucky and me are your boys!"
+
+"Make him stop yelling," the constable said. "People are standing on the
+street, wondering who's getting murdered down here."
+
+"Send them down," Jeff invited. "I represent Tarrant Enterprises, Ltd.,
+and I might sell--"
+
+"That dog has to stop yelling!"
+
+Jeff shook a chiding finger at Pal. "Stop yelling!"
+
+Pop and the constable left. Ike and Bucky chuckled. Pal sat down,
+expectant eyes fixed on the hand that held Jeff's mouth organ. He knew
+now where the sound originated, and he was ready the instant Jeff raised
+his hand. Pop and the constable, their faces entreating rather than
+commanding, came back.
+
+"Can't you make him shut up?"
+
+"I told him. You heard me tell him."
+
+"We can't have that noise."
+
+"Why not?" Ike jeered. "Does it keep all the workers in the court house
+awake?"
+
+"Judge Carlson's trying to work," the constable said. "He'll be working
+until nine tonight."
+
+"Thought you said he'd gone fishing?" Jeff accused Pop.
+
+"That's Justice Murphy. He hears all the cases where no more than fifty
+dollars is involved."
+
+"Don't make the judge mad!" Ike chortled. "What if he gets real upset?"
+
+"Can't you make him shut up?" the constable pleaded.
+
+"I'll try."
+
+The two went back to the desk. A match flared there, and an oil lamp
+cast its yellow glow into the corridor; apparently night was
+approaching. The constable left and Jeff pocketed the mouth organ. Five
+minutes later he brought it out again and once more Pal wrecked the
+silence. The door burst open, slammed shut, and Pop and the constable
+stood before Jeff's cell.
+
+Joe Parker spoke, "How'd you like to get out, peddler?"
+
+"I don't know," Jeff said smoothly. "I like it here."
+
+"Now look, why can't you be reasonable? We haven't got much on you and
+we're not mad at you. Ever'body's going to be plumb out of their minds
+if that dog howls down here for a whole week!"
+
+"What's your proposition?" Jeff asked serenely.
+
+"We'll leave you out, give you and that howling wolf pack ten minutes to
+get out of town, and start looking for you."
+
+Jeff hesitated, scenting a trap and guessing that something besides
+Pal's howling was involved. Probably Pop had not been reticent about the
+new prisoner's willingness to consult attorneys.... Jeff said finally,
+"And if you catch me, you'll have me for breaking jail, too?"
+
+The constable retorted grimly, "We don't aim to hunt _that_ hard."
+
+For a moment Jeff pondered, as though considering everything seriously.
+His face was solemn when he looked up.
+
+"Nope," he said. "It's not enough."
+
+Ike looked pained. "What do you want for getting out of jail?"
+
+"Pop owes me thirty-nine cents for a hack saw."
+
+"I'll give the hack saw back," Pop offered quickly.
+
+"I don't want it. I want thirty-nine cents."
+
+"Oh, for pete's sake!"
+
+Pop took a purse from his pocket, counted out thirty-nine cents, and
+passed it through the bars. Jeff pocketed the money.
+
+"What's the next town?"
+
+"Stay right in the valley. Seven miles down, you'll come to Delview. You
+can't miss, and heaven help Delview if they pick you up!"
+
+"Any other place?"
+
+"North through the mountains there's Smithville. Better not try it,
+there's no direct road and those mountains are plenty rugged."
+
+"Good town, though," Ike called. "That constable in Smithville, he
+minds his own business most of the time. So does most ever'body else. It
+pays, in Smithville."
+
+"Wild place, huh?"
+
+"Not wild," Ike declared. "Just sensible."
+
+"I'll go to Delview," Jeff decided.
+
+"That's worse'n Cressman," Ike snorted. "They jail you there for lookin'
+cross-eyed."
+
+"You got to go now," Joe pointed out. "You took Pop's money."
+
+"Open the cell."
+
+"'Bye, Jeff," Ike called. "Me'n Bucky may be seeing you."
+
+"Take care of yourselves."
+
+Outside, instead of going to the main street, Jeff slipped behind the
+court house. Two more moving shadows in a place of shadows, he and Pal
+flitted past a cluster of lilacs and darted to a patch of trees. They
+threaded their way through the town, always alert and careful.
+
+Again on the outskirts of Cressman, Jeff heaved a sigh of relief and
+walked swiftly down the road. Once more Pal had saved the day;
+apparently Pop and the constable had wanted only, and wholeheartedly, to
+be rid of them. Jeff felt a little saddened. The shining name of Tarrant
+Enterprises, Ltd., had become a little tarnished in Cressman. The
+concern had spent money and earned little enough.
+
+Jeff was startled by the gruff command, "Wait thar!"
+
+He halted. A man stepped out of the shadows, looked closely at him,
+pointed a sawed-off shotgun at the ground and said, "Go ahead."
+
+Jeff thought of Ike and Bucky. Probably this man was one of the pickets
+waiting for them.
+
+He recovered his cheer. There were always fresh customers down the
+road, but they would not be where Jeff had told Joe Parker he intended
+to seek them. It would be no difficult matter to send a message to
+Delview, and to ask the police there to be alert for a peddler
+accompanied by a huge dog.
+
+At the first break in the mountains, Jeff left the road and started for
+the opportunities that must surely await him in Smithville.
+
+
+
+
+4. THE CABIN
+
+
+The rising sun turned the tops of the mountains to gold, and like
+slow-flowing water, sunshine crept gradually down the slopes. In a grove
+of pines, a chickaree came out of the warm nest where he had spent the
+night. Three inches from his nest, the chickaree paused on an outjutting
+stub.
+
+A hawk winged through the pines regularly, and though it had always
+missed by a comfortable margin, it had struck three times at the
+chickaree. The pines were part of a marten's beat, and the marten had
+chased the chickaree several times. In addition, on their way to one
+place or another, various other predators wandered through the pines and
+few of them were averse to eating chickaree.
+
+The chickaree held perfectly still, bright eyes glowing and small ears
+straining. Neither the hawk nor the marten were present, and the
+chickaree was puzzled because he could see nothing else. That should not
+be. Three big bucks were spending the season on this slope and every
+night they bedded in the pines. This morning there was no sign of them.
+
+Though he could neither see nor hear anything, the chickaree knew that
+something was present, if only because the deer were not. After five
+minutes, having assured himself that there was no immediate threat, the
+chickaree set out to find whatever he had sensed.
+
+He scampered up the pine, leaped effortlessly into another, and took a
+different stand. Again he examined the grove. A smell of wood smoke
+tickled his nostrils and the chickaree knew that a man had come to the
+pines. That much discovered, he went into action.
+
+He leaped to another pine, raced swiftly up it, and made a leap so long
+that the twigs upon which he landed bent precariously. A master of
+aerial travel, the chickaree paid no heed.
+
+Three minutes later he found the man sleeping under a big pine. There
+was a huge dog beside him and a bed of glowing coals so arranged that
+the heat they cast enveloped both man and dog. The chickaree paused,
+anger in his eyes. He had squatters' rights in these pines and he lacked
+the remotest intention of sharing them with any man. Biting off a pine
+cone, the chickaree dropped it squarely on the man's face.
+
+Jeff Tarrant came awake.
+
+There was no lingering struggle to achieve complete wakefulness and no
+dropping back for another five minutes' slumber because Jeff had long
+since learned that that must never be. He had to awaken instantly, and
+at the least disturbance, because there was always a possibility that he
+might have to get up fighting, and he had a distinct impression that
+something had dropped on his face.
+
+Swift glances in all directions told him that there was nothing except
+Pal near, and Jeff relaxed. Now he could attend to the ceremony of
+awakening. Jeff rubbed his eyes, yawned, stretched and rose. Rising with
+him, Pal saw the madly-fleeing chickaree; following the dog's gaze,
+Jeff saw it, too. Appalled by his own boldness, the chickaree was
+putting distance between Jeff and himself as rapidly as possible. Jeff
+grinned.
+
+"So! He doesn't want us around either! Pal, seems to me that lately
+nobody has wanted anything to do with Tarrant Enterprises, Ltd.! Shame
+on them!"
+
+Pal wagged his tail and made an enthusiastic attempt to lick his
+master's face. Jeff pushed him away; Pal's tongue was approximately the
+size of a dish towel and the consistency of sand paper. Not to be
+defeated, Pal got in a number of good licks on his friend's hand and
+Jeff chided, "Cut it out! I can wash myself!"
+
+As he walked to a little runlet that trickled through the pines and
+washed his face and hands, Jeff thought of last night.
+
+In the valley up which he had traveled, that runlet became a good-sized
+stream, with several deep pools. Having fallen into two of them last
+night, Jeff had discovered the pools the hard way. But he had achieved
+his purpose. It was not only possible but highly probable that Joe
+Parker and Pop had ideas which they hadn't bothered to disclose when
+letting Jeff out of jail. If they were able to catch him again, he would
+be charged with jail breaking. That meant six months, and six months was
+plenty of time to steal the pack's contents. However, even if they
+followed him into the mountains, they couldn't catch him.
+
+A satisfying vision of the Delview police looking for him, and of Pop
+and the constable hopefully waiting, formed in Jeff's mind. He grinned
+happily. Even though he was stranded in a wilderness with no customers
+in sight, and no telling when he would find any, Tarrant Enterprises,
+Ltd., was in business again. Jeff took his watch out, saw that it had
+stopped, set it for nine o'clock, and wound it.
+
+He might be an hour, two hours, or three hours, off. It made no
+difference. Tarrant Enterprises, Ltd., guided its fortunes by the
+circumstances of the moment and not by the dial of a watch or clock. Any
+hour of the twenty-four, or any minute of any hour, might present a
+precious and never to be repeated opportunity. Therefore, it was better
+to be alert for what the moment might present than to depend too heavily
+on any timepiece.
+
+Last night he had been in too much of a hurry to think of eating, and
+when he had finally put what he considered an adequate distance between
+Cressman and himself, he had been too tired. Now he took the remainder
+of bread and cheese from his pack and divided both in half.
+
+"Chow time!" he said grandly. "Here, Pal, a wonderful breakfast!"
+
+Pal gulped his portion. Jeff ate more slowly, and when he had finished
+the last crumb he was completely serene. It mattered not at all that he
+was completely out of food or that it was an unknown distance to the
+next place where he would be able to buy more. By all means, the future
+should be carefully weighed, but the future was a great and shining
+promise and lack of food a small inconvenience.
+
+"Let's go!" he said happily.
+
+A little breeze sang to him, the sun warmed him, and he was completely
+cheerful as he resumed his journey. This was a new and fresh experience,
+and as such it was to be treasured. Pal ran a hundred feet ahead, slowed
+to a walk, and further slowed to a stalk so deliberate that he moved at
+a snail's pace. He looked questioningly back at Jeff.
+
+Jeff wrinkled his brows. In town, or even near other people, Pal had not
+moved more than a yard away. Here he would leave Jeff and that was
+entirely understandable. Naturally he would feel freer in the
+wilderness, but what did he want? Jeff halted.
+
+"What's up, Pal?"
+
+The dog stared hard at a copse of brush and for a moment Jeff remained
+still. Then he advanced slowly.
+
+"Hope I'm not doing it wrong," he murmured. "I know you're trying to
+tell me something, but I'm too dumb to understand your language."
+
+Pal stayed perfectly rigid until Jeff was within five feet, then went in
+to flush two grouse from the brush. They winged thunderously up and
+drummed away, and a great light dawned on Jeff.
+
+If Pal had not had a former master, he would not have been wearing a
+collar, and obviously that master had lived partly by hunting. Scenting
+the grouse, Pal had been asking Jeff, as plainly as a dog can ask
+anything, whether or not he cared to shoot them. Jeff petted Pal and
+heaped praise upon him.
+
+"Good dog!" he exclaimed. "That's the boy!"
+
+Pal sighed ecstatically because he had pleased his master. He had
+already helped Jeff out of two difficult situations, and for that alone
+he deserved loyalty. Now it became evident that he would not be wholly
+dead weight. Jeff, who had learned something about dogs, reviewed what
+he knew.
+
+There were various dogs for various purposes. Thus the bull was for
+fighting, the dachshund went into burrows and dragged out whatever
+sought a refuge there, the setter hunted game birds, the hound trailed,
+etc. Occasionally there was an intelligent mongrel that combined the
+functions of two or more such specialists. It was difficult to imagine
+Pal crawling into burrows, but he had already proven his ability to hunt
+birds. Would he do anything else?
+
+It occurred to Jeff that he knew little about his new partner and until
+now he had had little chance to do any probing. Now there was every
+chance.
+
+"Heel!" he ordered.
+
+Pal fell in beside him, walking at his left and just far enough away so
+there was no danger of collision. Jeff was delighted; he had already
+discovered that Pal responded perfectly to other commands and must have
+had much training. Five minutes later there came an interruption.
+
+Buzzing angrily through the trees, a bee made straight for Jeff. It
+danced up and down in front of his face, seeking a place to light. Jeff
+swiped at it with his right hand.
+
+When he did, Pal bounded forward. Swift as a deer, and as graceful, he
+raced among the trees. With seeming lack of effort, he leaped high, the
+better to see what lay about him. Finding nothing, he looked back
+perplexedly.
+
+"Come on," Jeff coaxed. "Come on, Pal!"
+
+Pal returned and Jeff petted him fondly. Now he knew something else
+about the dog. A hand waved forward was Pal's signal to look for game.
+Jeff stored the knowledge away, pending the time it might be useful.
+
+Pal ranged ahead and on both sides. Jeff strode on. The mountain had
+been steep, but its summit was a broad plateau covered with pine forest,
+and somewhere in the distant peaks that Jeff could see must lie the town
+of Smithville. Sooner or later he would get there, and if he needed two
+or three days, that was all right. He was enjoying the hike, and the
+farther away Smithville was, the farther he'd be from Cressman.
+
+He stopped to rest at a pond that fed a stream and saw trout in the
+clear waters. Removing his pack, he opened the right compartment, and
+took from it a fishing line and a box of hooks. He tied a hook to the
+line, cut a pole from a copse of willows growing beside the pond, kicked
+a rock over and gathered up the fat worms beneath it, baited, and cast.
+
+A dozen trout rushed the bait. One got it, and Jeff landed him. He
+continued to cast until he had nine trout. Jeff dressed them, washed
+them, took a grill and salt and pepper from the pack, and cooked his
+fish. Pal cleaned up all the heads, all the bones, and four trout. Jeff
+ate the rest, smacking his lips over them and entirely happy.
+
+"This," he sighed, "is the way to live!"
+
+They descended into a valley and were crossing a field when a rabbit
+flushed in front of them. White tail flashing, it streaked through the
+grass. Jeff waved his right arm and Pal raced forward. So effortlessly
+that he almost seemed to float, he overtook the fleeing rabbit and
+snatched it up. The rabbit dangling from his jaws, he trotted back and
+laid his game in Jeff's hand.
+
+Jeff laughed in sheer delight. Almost always he canvassed the back
+country, because that was the only place where, usually, he could be
+pretty sure of doing good business. But he had been so interested in his
+customers that he had had little time for the wilderness. Now there was
+an opportunity to see and observe, and he liked everything around him.
+He still wanted to wander, but if he ever did settle down, it would be
+in such a place.
+
+The two camped that night in another grove of pines, not knowing where
+they were and not caring, and Jeff broiled the rabbit. It was stringy
+and tough, but hunger proved a powerful sauce and when Jeff chewed and
+swallowed the last few shreds of meat he felt as though he had partaken
+of princely fare.
+
+"I wouldn't mind if this went on for a long while!" he told the
+contented Pal. "I like it almost as much as you do!"
+
+He arranged a fire to reflect against a fallen tree trunk, slept soundly
+all night, and awakened with dawn. There was nothing for breakfast, but
+there had been nothing for a lot of breakfasts and it made little
+difference. Sooner or later they would eat, and this morning it was
+sooner.
+
+No more than four hundred yards from their camp they reached a brawling
+little stream that raced frantically downslope. Again Jeff strung his
+tackle and caught trout. He laid them in the grill and was about to
+build a fire when Pal growled.
+
+It was a sound so soft that nothing more than a few feet away would have
+heard it. Jeff looked quickly at the dog and glanced around the forest.
+He saw nothing. Pal was on all fours, straining into the wind, and he
+growled again. Again Jeff found nothing. Leaving the pack and fish, Jeff
+stole to a big pine about thirty feet away and crouched behind it. He
+whispered,
+
+"Down!"
+
+Pal lay down and Jeff continued to watch. Two minutes later he saw a man
+coming through the forest.
+
+Very tall and very thin, the man was dressed in a sun-faded shirt from
+which half of the right sleeve was missing. Protruding from it, what
+could be seen of his right arm had been scorched by so much sun that it
+was almost black. His left sleeve was tied at the wrist. As dilapidated
+as the shirt, his gray trousers ended six inches above scuffed shoes,
+and an expanse of naked leg showed that he wore no socks. A luxuriant
+beard covered his face, and curly black hair dangled over his ears and
+down the back of his head.
+
+In many parts of the country Jeff had seen other men who might have been
+this one's twin. Obviously a hillbilly, he carried a carbine as though
+it were a part of him.
+
+He lingered behind a pine about fifty yards from Jeff's pack and for a
+full minute he regarded it closely. Then, making no noise whatever, he
+approached and prodded the pack with his foot. As he looked curiously at
+the grill of trout, Jeff spoke.
+
+"That's mine, stranger."
+
+The man whirled, shouldered the carbine, and put it down again. Jeff
+rose. Bristling, his lips slightly lifted, Pal stayed very near. Pal
+knew what Jeff could not; the man was Barr Whitney and presently he
+spoke.
+
+"I wa'nt goin' to tetch it."
+
+"I know that." Jeff had a customer. "I can see that you're an honest
+man. But I thought I'd better make sure first."
+
+"Right smart idea."
+
+Barr Whitney looked swiftly at Pal and glanced back at Jeff. His eyes
+revealed nothing, but he kept the carbine down. Expecting a flow of
+questions, Jeff was momentarily disconcerted when his visitor did not
+speak. Jeff glanced at the knife on his belt.
+
+With a six-inch blade, the point of the knife was thrust into a
+deer-skin sheath and there was a six-inch guard that protected the
+cutting edge. Sparkling keen, the blade probably was made out of an old
+file and fitted with an ingenious hilt of deer antler. Jeff watched the
+knife for only a split second. Homemade, it was the work of an artist
+and Jeff knew of lowlanders who would pay a good price for it. But he
+must not let the stranger know this. Barr Whitney remained silent and
+Jeff said nothing. Often it was productive of the best results to fit
+his own mood to that of a potential customer.
+
+Jeff flicked his pack open, took from it a clasp knife that was almost a
+small tool chest within itself, removed the trout from the grill, and
+arranged them on a slab of bark. He became absorbed in the grill.
+Opening the file on the clasp knife, he filed a sharp point from the
+grill's wire handle.
+
+He closed the file, opened a long, pointed blade, and cut the fishes'
+heads off. As he did so, he brushed the grill with his trousers, caught
+a loose thread which was always kept purposely loosened, and snipped it
+off with the scissors that the clasp knife also contained. Carefully he
+worked with the awl blade, poking the cut thread back into place.
+
+Barr Whitney watched silently, then said, "Give me leave to look at it."
+
+"Sure."
+
+Without looking at the other, Jeff gave him the knife. He started a
+fire, laid the trout back on the grill, and started cooking them. Jeff
+seasoned the fish and asked, "Had breakfast?"
+
+"Yup."
+
+Jeff gave half the trout to Pal and gravely stripped the flesh from his
+own share. He gave Pal the stripped bones, went down to the stream, dug
+a handful of sand from it, and scrubbed the grill clean. Barr Whitney
+was still opening and closing the blade, scissors, awl, screwdriver,
+file, and fork that folded into the clasp knife's stag handle. He spoke,
+
+"Good knife."
+
+"Yeah," Jeff agreed.
+
+"How much?"
+
+"Six dollars."
+
+Silence followed. Jeff, who had guessed that Barr Whitney was as likely
+to have six thousand as six dollars, made up his pack.
+
+The other spoke again, "You swap?"
+
+"Maybe."
+
+"For what?"
+
+"Your rifle."
+
+The other jumped as though stung. Jeff, who knew that it's as easy to
+trade a hillbilly out of his hand as to separate him from his rifle,
+continued to work calmly. The pack, never cumbersome, could be made so
+when he wanted to gain time.
+
+Barr Whitney asked, "Trade knives?"
+
+"Let's see yours."
+
+Stripping the knife from his belt, Barr handed it to Jeff. Betraying
+nothing of what he thought, Jeff unsheathed the homemade weapon.
+Razor-sharp, it was exquisitely balanced and so finely made that blade
+of steel and hilt of horn flowed into each other as smoothly and as
+naturally as two placid creeks mingle their waters. Ordinarily Jeff was
+able to do little in towns and cities. But he could if he had
+merchandise like this to offer. Aside from being highly practical, the
+knife was a collector's item. Jeff handed it back.
+
+"Guess not."
+
+"What do ye want?"
+
+"Two knives like that."
+
+Smirking faintly, Barr Whitney thrust a hand inside his shirt and
+brought out the twin to the first knife. Obviously he'd been wearing it
+in a shoulder sheath. He dropped both knives beside Jeff and for the
+first time there was a change in his expression. His eyes were gleeful,
+as though he'd been too sharp for a peddler, and he clutched the clasp
+knife firmly.
+
+Jeff said in pretended disappointment, "Guess I talked myself out of
+that one."
+
+"Guess you did."
+
+"Well, I do sometimes. Which way is Smithville?"
+
+Barr Whitney pointed down a valley. "Thar."
+
+"How far?"
+
+"A piece."
+
+Without further comment, Barr Whitney turned and strode into the forest.
+Jeff shouldered his pack and looked at Pal. The dog stood erect, still
+faintly bristled as he looked after the departing man and Jeff wondered
+why. He shrugged. Some people just naturally roused a dog to anger and
+it was not important. Jeff started toward Smithville.
+
+Ike had spoken highly of Smithville, and in Ike's eyes its virtue lay in
+the fact that people there minded their own business. What Jeff had seen
+bore that out. Hillbillies were independent, not at all inclined to
+meddle in the affairs of others or to having their own investigated.
+Scornful of anyone who wore an officer's badge, they were quick to take
+violent action if what they considered their personal rights were
+violated. But usually they did not bother those who let them alone.
+
+Jeff strolled in the direction Barr Whitney had indicated. Somewhere
+ahead lay Smithville, and Barr Whitney had given him a completely new
+idea. This could not be a wealthy land if the man Jeff had met was any
+indication of its riches. Shut off from the world and with little money,
+the hill people must of necessity do for themselves, and few of them
+were satisfied to have everything slipshod. It naturally followed that
+they would have brought handicraft to a high perfection. Jeff planned as
+he walked.
+
+Seldom had Jeff even tried to peddle in any town larger than Cressman;
+in big cities he could do no business at all. But not all of the people
+in cities were contented with the monotonous sameness of the stamped and
+stereotyped products available to them. They had lost the art of
+handicraft themselves, but some still appreciated it and were able to
+pay for it. On the other hand, there was an excellent chance that the
+inhabitants of these mountains, lacking the money to buy city goods,
+would be eager to trade for them. Jeff began to whistle.
+
+"Pal," he said happily, "maybe, just maybe, Tarrant Enterprises, Ltd.,
+is about to become an even bigger business!"
+
+Pal was padding ahead, glancing from side to side and making eager
+little excursions into the brush and forest. This was his country. Times
+without number he had walked through these same woods with Johnny
+Blazer. Returning excited him. He went from a boulder to a patch of
+brush, and from there to a stump. His tail wagged constantly as once
+again he saw all the old landmarks that were so familiar and so dear.
+Not understanding, Jeff wondered.
+
+They came to a foot path. Jeff followed Pal down the path, not knowing
+where it led but sure that it would take them somewhere. If it did not
+bring them to Smithville, it would certainly lead to some house whose
+inhabitants could tell him exactly how to get there, and Jeff was in no
+hurry. He was naturally footloose and the woods were free. Jeff knew a
+mounting disinclination to go to Smithville at once. It would suit him
+better to camp in the open again tonight.
+
+The path joined a road. There were wagon tracks, hoof prints, and even
+tire tracks left by venturesome drivers of automobiles. Jeff came to a
+sure sign of the latter, a blown tire lying beside the road, and shook a
+sympathetic head. He did not share the views of those who proclaimed
+cars a passing fad. They would be the conveyance of the future if only
+because they could travel as far in one hour as a horse could in three.
+Their many faults were sure to be corrected.
+
+Pal frolicked like a puppy, ears shaking and tail wagging as he bounced
+around with a wide canine grin on his mouth. When he came to another dim
+foot path leading out of the woods, he halted to look inquiringly back
+at his master. Hesitantly--he had not yet had any assurance that Jeff
+wanted to visit it--he looked longingly toward Johnny Blazer's cabin.
+
+Wondering what Pal wanted now, Jeff halted beside him. The cabin was
+hidden by trees; from this distance no part of it could be seen. Then a
+puff of wood smoke drifted to Jeff's nostrils and the cabin betrayed
+itself. With Pal dancing eagerly ahead, he started up the path.
+
+Fifty yards from the road, he came to Johnny Blazer's cabin and halted
+uncertainly. The place looked abandoned. Of the two windows he could
+see, a pane of glass was missing from each. Still, smoke drifted from
+the chimney. Obviously someone was living in the cabin.
+
+Jeff knocked on the door. Nobody answered. He knocked again, and when
+there was no response, he walked in.
+
+A homemade chair with one broken leg lay upended on the floor. There
+were a few broken dishes, a stove, scattered papers and dust. Wind blew
+through empty panes where glass had been. About to go farther in for a
+closer inspection, Jeff was halted by a near hysterical command.
+
+"All right, mister! Raise both hands and raise 'em high!"
+
+"Certainly," Jeff agreed pleasantly. "Anything to oblige."
+
+Jeff raised both hands and heard, "Turn around!"
+
+He turned to confront the yawning muzzles of a double-barreled eight
+gauge shotgun. Holding it and dwarfed by it, but never flinching, was a
+blazing-eyed boy who could not possibly be more than ten years old.
+
+
+
+
+5. DAN
+
+
+The boy stood about ten feet away, near a pot-bellied wood stove behind
+which he probably had been hiding when Jeff came in. His clothing was
+rumpled, but at the same time it was fairly new and not the faded
+hand-me-downs that were to be expected on ten-year-olds around
+Smithville. His face and hands were dirty, and straight black hair that
+had once been well-groomed tumbled all over his head.
+
+Jeff knew a surge of pity. Never, in hill or any other country, should a
+ten-year-old stand so. It was not right that any youngster's eyes should
+spark with such unbridled fury, or that any child should have the
+complete willingness to kill that was so evident in this one. At the
+same time, Jeff felt something else. The youngster had control of
+himself and the shotgun did not waver. But taut lips seemed ready to
+tremble and tears lingered behind angry eyes.
+
+It was as though the boy had taken up burdens which were far too heavy,
+but which he was determined to carry, even while he longed for a
+friendly arm to help him and a sympathetic ear to which he might tell
+his story. And somehow, in spite of his anger, quality was evident
+within him.
+
+Jeff said gently, "Put your gun down, son."
+
+"Tell me what you're doing here! _With my pop's dog!_"
+
+Jeff was astounded. "Your pop's dog?"
+
+"That's him! That's Buster!"
+
+Hearing the name, Pal flattened both ears and wagged his tail. He looked
+at the boy without going near him. Jeff tried to collect his thoughts.
+
+"I found him a long ways from here. Clear over beyond Cressman."
+
+Uncertainty stole some of the boy's fury. "You--you did?"
+
+"That's right."
+
+"Who are you?"
+
+"My name's Jeff Tarrant and I'm a peddler. Put your gun down."
+
+"Well--" He lowered the shotgun. Two tears broke from his eyes and he
+shook them off with an angry whirl of his head. Jeff extended his hand.
+
+"Maybe you'd better let me have the gun."
+
+"It--it isn't loaded. I didn't have any money to buy shells!"
+
+Jeff said gently, "Taking a bit of a chance, weren't you? What if you'd
+pulled it on someone with a gun that was loaded?"
+
+"I--I don't know."
+
+"This is really your dad's dog?"
+
+"I ought to know him."
+
+"He doesn't seem especially happy to see you."
+
+"I--I only saw him twice. Last time a year ago. But it's my pop's!"
+
+"Who are you, son?"
+
+"Dan Blazer."
+
+"And where is your pop?"
+
+"Dead!" Dan said fiercely. "Shot by those--Whitneys!"
+
+He whirled so that his back was to Jeff, put both grimy hands to his
+eyes, and shook with sobs. Pal looked worried. Jeff strode swiftly
+across the floor, knelt beside the sobbing youngster, gathered him up,
+and sat with him on a homemade wooden chair whose back and seat were of
+laced buckskin. Laying his head on Jeff's shoulder, Dan sobbed
+unrestrainedly. Then he wriggled, turned away quickly so that Jeff could
+not see his face, and slid to the floor. He wiped his eyes with a
+handkerchief that was almost as dirty as his face. When he turned again
+to Jeff, he was calmer.
+
+"Cry baby!" he accused himself. "Big cry baby!"
+
+"Come here, Dan," Jeff said gently.
+
+"What do you want?"
+
+"To talk to you, and I've seen men cry over a whole lot less."
+
+"Really?" The thought seemed a reassuring one.
+
+"Really. Where is your mother?"
+
+"She died when I was--When I was just a child." He spoke quietly. His
+mother had died so long ago that all pangs were gone.
+
+"I see. What were you doing when these--uh--when these Whitneys shot
+your pop?"
+
+"I was in Ackerton." Dan named the nearest city.
+
+Again Jeff was surprised. "What were you doing there?"
+
+"Pop sent me to Jackson School there. Said he was a hill man but he
+didn't want me to be one. He said there were better things."
+
+"_Hm-m._ How did you get here?"
+
+"Walked," Dan answered matter-of-factly.
+
+"Didn't anyone try to stop you?"
+
+"A policeman did before I was out of Ackerton. I got away, and after
+that I walked at night."
+
+"Do you have any relatives?"
+
+"I'm the only one left in the Blazer family and I aim to kill every
+danged Whitney! That way I'll be sure to get the one who got Pop!"
+
+Jeff said drily, "Nothing like being thorough. You're sure the Whitneys
+did get your pop?"
+
+"They're the ones he fought most with."
+
+"But he fought with others too?"
+
+"Well, yes."
+
+"Hadn't we better do a bit of thinking before we shoot all the
+Whitneys?"
+
+"We? Why do you want to mix in?"
+
+"I've got your pop's dog, haven't I? That gives me the right, doesn't
+it?"
+
+Dan looked doubtfully at Jeff. "Do you really think so?"
+
+"Certainly I think so, but let's not go off half-cocked. This is going
+to take a bit of figuring. We can't just wander around leaving corpses
+all over the woods."
+
+"What would you do?"
+
+"Find who really shot your pop and get him."
+
+"I never thought of that," Dan admitted.
+
+"Let's talk about it over a good meal. That sound all right?"
+
+"Great but--I'm down to corn meal mush."
+
+"Tonight we'll have something else," Jeff decided. "I was just going in
+to Smithville to buy grub. Do you like pork chops?"
+
+"Oh, boy!" Dan licked his lips. "But why should you buy me anything?"
+
+"If we're partners," Jeff said firmly, "we share and share alike. You
+can understand that. We're already sharing the cabin."
+
+Confidence and hope warmed Dan's eyes. He smiled, and Jeff reflected
+that that was the way he should always look.
+
+"Uh--Jeff."
+
+"What's up?"
+
+"Do you think you could bring some shells for this shotgun?"
+
+"On one condition. The gun isn't shot at anything, or anybody, unless
+both of us know about it."
+
+"All right," Dan agreed.
+
+Pal went to the door with him. Jeff shoved the dog back, shut the door,
+and struck into the gathering twilight. He shook a bewildered head.
+
+Was it a year ago, or only a few days, that he had been the footloose
+owner-manager-working force of Tarrant Enterprises, Ltd.? Why was he
+burdened now with a dog that few other people wanted and a boy that
+nobody wanted very much? Why hadn't he left both where he found them and
+accepted just his own responsibilities? He shook his head again and
+murmured to himself, "Darn fool! Tarrant, of all the pinheaded things
+you've ever done, these take the hand-polished railroad spike!"
+
+At the same time he knew that he couldn't have done otherwise. The dog
+had helped him, therefore the dog must not be abandoned. Nor could Jeff
+simply leave Dan to any fate that awaited him. The only man left in the
+Blazer family, Dan had walked all the way from Ackerton--more than a
+hundred miles--to avenge his father. He intended to make sure he did it
+by shooting all the Whitneys, and he would die if he raised the gun to
+the first one. It was a staggering situation and how should he, Jeff,
+solve it?
+
+Again Jeff gave himself over to the idea that first things must be first
+and walked into Smithville.
+
+It was a small town, with perhaps four hundred inhabitants, and as
+nearly as there could be such a thing, it was a place where the outer
+world intruded on the hills. Smithville was about half-civilized. The
+streets were dirt and rutted, but instead of the log houses in which
+hill families abode, the dwellings here were frame. The Smithville Inn
+was largely a place for those who wished merriment in its louder forms,
+and there was one store. Wagons piled high with logs offered mute
+testimony as to the way the town's residents earned a livelihood but
+there were no horses to be seen. Doubtless, with night approaching, the
+teamsters had stabled their draft animals.
+
+Jeff halted in front of the store, a rather large building whose front
+end consisted of numerous small panes of glass inserted in wooden
+frames. There was the legend "Abel Tarkman, General Store," and beneath
+it was printed, "Post Office Too."
+
+Knowing before he did so what he would find, Jeff entered. Isolated
+stores such as this one catered to all the wants of many people. As a
+result, they had to stock a little bit of everything that was practical,
+and Abel Tarkman's store was no exception. Counters stretched its full
+length. Pails, straps, lanterns and bits of harness, were suspended from
+rafter beams. There was a rack of hoes, rakes, spades and other garden
+tools, but no plows or harrows; this was not a farm community. Jeff saw
+a shelf of drugs, a vast assortment of chewing and smoking tobaccos, a
+whole rack of vari-calibered firearms and ammunition, a food counter, a
+dry goods counter, and toward the back--a small cubby hole of unpainted
+lumber that was labeled "Post Office."
+
+Two other people, a stocky man with a badge, and a woman, were in the
+store. Jeff stood aside while the proprietor, evidently Abel Tarkman
+himself, served the woman. A small, quiet man with an inoffensive
+manner, he wrapped the woman's purchases and looked inquiringly at Jeff.
+
+"Four pounds of pork chops," Jeff said.
+
+He ordered a dozen eggs, two loaves of bread, a three-pound slab of
+bacon, two quarts of milk, a pound of coffee, a peck of potatoes, and
+mindful of the youngster at the cabin, a head of lettuce and a bunch of
+carrots. To these purchases he added a broom, four panes of glass to
+replace those broken out of the cabin, putty with which to hold them, a
+lantern, a gallon of kerosene, and finally, "A half dozen eight gauge
+shotgun shells."
+
+"I've nothing but number fours in eight gauge."
+
+"They'll do and I want to stick them in my pocket."
+
+Abel Tarkman looked doubtfully at the rest. "It's a lot to carry."
+
+"Put it in gunny sacks. I'll manage."
+
+Tarkman reached beneath the counter for a gunny sack and said amiably,
+"Fishing?"
+
+"Loafing," Jeff answered. "Nothing strenuous."
+
+"Staying long?"
+
+"I don't know."
+
+"Where you staying?"
+
+"Blazer's cabin."
+
+Abel Tarkman's jaw tautened and he said no more. Jeff frowned. It was as
+though something cold had crept between them, and why should the mention
+of Blazer bring that about? Without speaking any more, the storekeeper
+totaled Jeff's bill on a piece of brown wrapping paper and Jeff paid in
+cash. Ordinarily he'd have tried to barter, but, though the pack was
+full, he still had ideas about trading with the hill people.
+
+Shouldering two half-filled gunny sacks, Jeff left the store. The sun
+had set, but enough light remained so that he could see. Between two
+far-spaced houses, and a sufficient distance from the store, Jeff took
+the six shotgun shells from one pocket and a knife from another.
+Carefully he pried the wadding from each shell and poured the shot out.
+Just as carefully replacing the shot with tightly-rolled bits of paper
+that he tore from his packages, he re-assembled the shells. Not
+forgotten was the fury of which Dan was capable. He had promised Jeff
+that he'd do no shooting on impulse, but Jeff wanted no accidents should
+Dan encounter a Whitney when he had the shotgun in his hands.
+
+Jeff was reassembling the last shell when, his badge shining in the
+day's last light, the man he'd seen in the store came to and paused
+beside him.
+
+"Howdy."
+
+"Howdy."
+
+"My name's Ellis," the constable said. "Bill Ellis and I'm constable
+here."
+
+"Jeff Tarrant," Jeff extended his hand. They shook and Bill Ellis asked,
+"You said you're staying at Blazer's cabin?"
+
+"That's right."
+
+"See anything of a youngster thereabouts?"
+
+"You mean Dan Blazer? Yes, he's there."
+
+"Then I guess I'd better walk out with you and pick him up. Poor little
+tad's all alone in the world."
+
+"No, he isn't. I'm taking care of him."
+
+Bill Ellis was suspicious. "Since when?"
+
+Jeff managed to sound more than a little astonished. "Didn't he tell
+you?"
+
+"All he did was walk through Smithville yesterday with a little sack
+over his shoulder and a shotgun big's a cannon in his arm. All he said
+was that he would meet somebody at the cabin. I waited this long to see
+if he really would."
+
+Jeff gave thanks for this bit of coincidence. "I met him at the cabin
+and he's all right. He's getting everything a youngster should have,
+though of course if your official duties call for so doing, you may take
+him. Naturally, I'll have to go with him and bring him right back, so
+there may be a bit of trouble. You were going to take him to an
+orphanage, weren't you?"
+
+"Where else?"
+
+"Ah, yes," Jeff agreed. "Where else? Splendid place, an orphanage. Ideal
+for those with no one to whom they might turn."
+
+"I got a letter from some school in Ackerton. Said the kid left there
+right after his dad's funeral and hasn't been seen since. Said they
+thought he'd come here and I should be on the watch for him."
+
+"An error," Jeff murmured. "Why don't you write to the school?"
+
+"Maybe I'd better."
+
+"Do that," Jeff urged. "How long does it take a letter to get to
+Ackerton and a reply back here?"
+
+"About a week."
+
+Jeff made up his mind to visit Ackerton before the week was out--and
+maybe Bill Ellis needn't send his letter.
+
+"I'm going to Ackerton," Jeff said. "I'll bring written confirmation
+from the school if you want it."
+
+"Well, if you're going there--"
+
+"Let's leave it that way," Jeff said quickly. "If you care to check in
+the meanwhile, you can ask Dan. Who killed his father, anyway?"
+
+"If I knew, he'd be in jail."
+
+"Haven't you any ideas?"
+
+"Sure I have. It's one of maybe twenty-five or thirty people."
+
+"Have you questioned them?"
+
+"How well are you acquainted around here?"
+
+"I just got in."
+
+"That explains it then."
+
+"Explains what?"
+
+"Your not knowing why I haven't questioned twenty-five or thirty people.
+Let me tell--"
+
+Bill Ellis spoke at length of those who lived in Smithville and those
+who abode in the mountains surrounding it. The town dwellers, with few
+exceptions, were industrious people who were glad to work for the lumber
+company and to accept a weekly pay check. They seldom caused trouble.
+
+Those residing in the hills were a different breed. They worked when
+they felt like it, which was not often, and few of them could bear the
+yoke of a steady job for more than three weeks at a time. They did for
+themselves and took their living from the wilderness. Of late years,
+with hunters and fishermen finding their way into the hills, guiding
+them had become a good source of income. But the only reason the hill
+people were willing to guide was because they usually spent all their
+time hunting or fishing anyway. They made their own laws, lived by their
+own code, and united only when outside forces threatened any part of
+their way of life.
+
+When they fought, they fought hard and often for little reason. For many
+years a feud, with the Whitneys on one side and the Paynters on the
+other, had raged. It had started, of all things, over a muskrat stolen
+from Jed Paynter's trap. His own judge, jury, and executioner, Jed had
+shot Enos Whitney. Two days later Jed was found with a bullet in his
+head and, though everybody knew one of the Whitneys had shot him, nobody
+had ever proven it. Finally, with four Paynters and two Whitneys dead,
+the remainder of the Paynters left the hills. No officer had ever proven
+anything. One who'd gone into the hills had simply disappeared.
+
+Bill Ellis knew only that someone had shot Johnny Blazer. But who?
+Johnny had done well trapping, hunting medicinal roots, and guiding and
+boarding hunters and fishermen. There was not a man in the hills who
+wouldn't have liked what Johnny had and not a man who wouldn't have
+quarreled with him about it. But to go into the hills with wholesale
+accusations would do nothing except rouse fury. Accusing, or even
+suspecting, whoever had not shot Johnny would be insult of the deadliest
+sort and inevitably bring on shooting.
+
+Far from being interested in local quarrels, the outside world seldom
+even heard of them and little help could be expected from anyone. If
+Bill Ellis knew who had shot Johnny, he would go get him. But he had to
+know and had to have indisputable proof before he moved. He'd already
+done everything he could and was no nearer a solution than he had been
+two months ago.
+
+Jeff listened intently, and realized that he was hearing the truth. If
+it was more extreme than what he already knew about mountain dwellers,
+Smithville was more isolated than any other place he had ever visited.
+Jeff thought of the youngster in the cabin. Dan Blazer had attended a
+city school, but his were hill blood and hill traditions. He had asked
+no one to help him avenge his father, but vengeance was a point of
+honor.
+
+Jeff gritted his teeth. Dan was a child. It would be the essence of
+simplicity, using force if necessary, to place him in an orphanage or
+make him go back to school. But it would solve nothing. A boy now, Dan
+would be a man. When he was, he'd be back here in the hills. There would
+be no forgetting.
+
+"Where was Johnny found?" Jeff asked.
+
+"Between here and his cabin. If you noticed a big sycamore right beside
+the road, he was lying against the trunk."
+
+"Who found him?"
+
+"Couple of fellows from Ackerton. They were fishing back in the
+mountains and they brought Johnny here. Mike Severance, he does first
+aid work for the lumber company, patched him up and they took him to
+Delview. He died in the hospital there. Bullet went right through him."
+
+"Where is he buried?"
+
+"In Delview." Bill Ellis narrowed his eyes. "Who are you?"
+
+"A peddler," Jeff answered honestly. "I thought I could do some business
+here."
+
+"You will, too. Now tell me straight why that kid came back."
+
+"I told you. He's with me."
+
+"We'll leave it that way," the constable promised, "at least until you
+bring word from Ackerton. But if you have any ideas except peddling,
+you'd better get some shells that are loaded with something besides
+paper wads."
+
+"I'll think about it."
+
+Bill Ellis guessed, "The kid toted the gun. Does he want the shells?"
+
+"That's about it."
+
+"You aim to watch him?"
+
+"Why do you think I'm giving him blanks?"
+
+"Why do you bother with him?"
+
+"I'm an orphan myself. I could have used somebody to look after me when
+I was ten years old."
+
+"For pete's sake, be careful!"
+
+"I'll keep that in mind."
+
+"You know where to find me if you need advice," Bill Ellis promised.
+"But if you start any half-baked ruckus, you finish it. I've a wife and
+two kids to think about. Well, maybe I'll be seeing you."
+
+Pocketing the shells and shouldering the gunny sacks, Jeff walked
+swiftly back up the road. He halted when he came to the big sycamore. It
+was a monstrous tree that shaded the road and murmured gently as the
+evening breeze danced through its branches. There was nothing whatever
+to show that a man had died violently beside it. But a man had died
+here, and Jeff looked quizzically at the tree. If it could talk, it
+probably could tell who had killed Johnny Blazer.
+
+He left the tree and hurried along. Trees did not talk and--Jeff was
+deep in thought until he came to the cabin. There he brushed his frowns
+away and forced a sparkle back into his eyes. Dan was a ticklish
+problem, and like all such, he had to be handled delicately. There must
+not be even one wrong move. Jeff burst into the cabin with a cheerful,
+"Poke the fire up, Dan! There's pork chops for supper!"
+
+
+
+
+6. VISITOR
+
+
+Sleeping in the same corner where he had slept so many times, Pal moaned
+softly and twitched his paws. He dreamed that things were as they had
+once been and that he was hunting grouse with Johnny Blazer. Pacing
+ahead, Pal scented a grouse and showed Johnny where it was. There came
+the shotgun's blast. The dream faded and Pal woke up.
+
+Instantly things resumed a normal perspective. The scent of Jeff Tarrant
+filled the cabin and mingled with it was the odor of Dan Blazer. Pal
+remembered meeting Dan before. Every summer, but never for more than ten
+days at a time, Johnny had brought him to the cabin for a visit.
+
+Though Pal liked all children, he saw only an incidental connection
+between Johnny and Dan Blazer. However, if only because Johnny had once
+welcomed the boy and Jeff was now welcoming him, Pal was happy to accept
+Dan too and to include him in the select circle of intimates who
+deserved every courtesy. Next to Jeff, he would respect Dan.
+
+Though his nose told him that all was well, Pal did not go back to sleep
+at once. The dream had been a very vivid one and it brought a surge of
+memories that were strengthened by being back at his old home. The past
+remained a puzzle. Pal had never understood why Johnny had disappeared,
+he still did not understand, and he was troubled because of it.
+
+Having a dog's instinct for time, he knew that the night was about half
+gone, and because he was familiar with the habits of humans, he was
+aware that Jeff and Dan probably would not get out of bed before
+sunrise. Equally at home in daylight or darkness, Pal had never known
+why people preferred to spend the night hours in a cabin or shelter but
+he had never questioned their doing so. They were humans. He was a dog.
+Therefore, it always befitted him to shape himself to their ways and
+never even think that they should bend to his.
+
+Sometimes Johnny had taken him out at night to hunt coon, and Pal rather
+hoped that Jeff would do the same because he liked to run at night. But
+it would be all right if Jeff did not.
+
+After a short time, needing contact more intimate than his nose offered,
+Pal rose and padded across the wooden floor. He ascended the steps,
+walking quietly because experience had taught him to be quiet. Pal
+existed to please his master and his whole life must be shaped to that
+purpose. There were no delights which, directly or indirectly, were not
+connected with that. When Johnny had patted his head and praised him,
+Pal had quivered with joy. Now he reacted in the same fashion to Jeff
+and his life was a full one.
+
+He ascended the steps, walked to the bunks that Jeff and Dan occupied,
+sniffed gently at each, and went back to his place in the corner. He had
+made doubly sure that Jeff was still present and that partially
+satisfied him. But because the dream and the cabin brought Johnny back
+to him, he was still able to sleep only fitfully. Pal recalled last
+night.
+
+He had been very worried when Jeff went away and left him in the cabin.
+Ordinarily it would have been routine, for Johnny had often left him
+alone. But a great fear had grown out of Johnny's death. Pal had seen
+him leave and been sure he'd come back, but he never had. Now he was
+fearful that Jeff might not return. Dan, who understood, had tried to
+give him comfort.
+
+"He'll come back. Don't you worry. He'll come back."
+
+But Pal would not rest until Jeff's return and then he was happy again.
+He wagged his tail because the two in the cabin greeted each other
+gladly, and he drooled at the odor of frying pork chops. Eating his
+share, Pal looked puzzled when Dan started to wash the dishes and Jeff
+began to work with the broom.
+
+In Pal's opinion the cabin was satisfactory, and he had never understood
+the quirks of humans that kept them forever doing something that did not
+look like fun and seemed unnecessary. But Pal resigned himself to the
+cleaning up. He flattened his ears and retreated into a corner. He
+dodged from place to place whenever the broom came near, and relaxed in
+his own corner only when Jeff finally put the broom down and started
+replacing the broken window panes. Unoccupied, and thought deserted, the
+cabin had been rifled of many things belonging to Johnny. But there were
+enough dishes and tableware left, for Johnny had kept a great store of
+it to provide for his guests.
+
+Dan yawned and Jeff sent him to bed, but the young peddler worked for a
+long while afterward. Finally, giving Pal a pat on the head, he too
+sought one of the upstairs bunks.
+
+Now Pal raised his head at frequent intervals. He had a great yearning
+to visit again the sycamore tree--the last place where he'd seen Johnny,
+but the door was locked. If the customary routine was followed, it would
+not be opened until Jeff and Dan got up. Rising, Pal walked nervously
+around the cabin, sniffing at all the objects he knew so well. He went
+to his corner and did not leave it again until dawn's thin light turned
+the cabin's black windows to pale gray.
+
+He heard a bunk creak as Jeff moved, and raised expectant ears. For a
+short interval there was silence. Then came Dan's sleepy voice.
+
+"You awake, Jeff?"
+
+"Nope. I'm sound asleep."
+
+Pal heard Dan giggle. There were various little noises that accompanied
+their getting out of bed and dressing. Tail wagging happily, Pal met
+them at the foot of the stairs. He went first to Jeff, who gave him a
+pat on the head, then he offered his morning greeting to Dan. These
+ceremonies complete, he padded over to stand in front of the door. Jeff
+understood.
+
+"I'll let you out."
+
+Pal slipped through the opened door and waited for a while in front of
+the cabin. This was his country, but he had not forgotten that it had
+rejected him. He had walked safely with Johnny Blazer, but he had been
+clubbed and stoned after Johnny was no longer with him. The lesson had
+penetrated deeply.
+
+When Pal finally left the cabin, he did not go down the path but went at
+once into the brush and walked slowly. Alone, he had better be
+careful.... He stopped when he caught the scent of a rabbit that was
+hiding in the brush. For a moment he was tempted to chase it because
+chasing rabbits was fun. But this morning he had a more urgent mission.
+Still walking slowly, nose questing and ears alert, he made his way to
+the road and halted in some thick brush beside it. He would not expose
+himself on the open road until he knew what lay ahead.
+
+Across the road, and up the opposite slope, a doe and fawn were feeding.
+Pal caught the faint odor of grouse, and he knew that a skunk had
+wandered that way last night. Later, a fox had minced along.
+
+The nearest human scents were those of Dan and Jeff, and as soon as he
+was sure of that, Pal considered himself safe. He ventured into and
+moved slowly down the road, but as he drew near the big sycamore he
+broke into an eager trot. It was at the sycamore that he had last seen
+Johnny Blazer, and there that he had lost all trace of him. Now he
+wanted to find if there was anything he might have overlooked.
+
+He had given up all hope of finding Johnny; his long search had
+convinced him that his former master would never be found. But not
+forgotten, never to be forgotten, was his long association with Johnny,
+his love for him, and the good life they had lived together. Pal was
+going to the sycamore for the same reason that a human being rereads old
+letters written by a dear companion whom he will never see again. Once
+more he stopped to read the wind currents and the tracks in the road.
+Besides the fox and skunk, only Jeff's scent remained right there.
+Therefore Jeff was the only human who had used the road last night. But
+Pal caught the fainter scents of Smithville and the people inhabiting
+it. They were distant odors and no one was coming. He gave undivided
+attention to the sycamore.
+
+Winds had blown and rains had fallen, but Johnny Blazer had bled here
+and his scent still lingered. Pal drank long and deeply of it. He made a
+little circle, as though the scent should lead him farther. But it ended
+at the tree, and the dog came back to sniff again. He moaned softly in
+his throat, because his affection for Johnny had been great. But
+Johnny's scent ended where it began, at the sycamore. About to cast
+again, Pal halted in his tracks.
+
+The morning breeze blew directly from Smithville to him, and the breeze
+had told him that nobody was coming. Now that was changed. Clearly Pal
+caught the scent of Pete Whitney and he knew that Pete was walking up
+the road. The dog bristled, but not because he saw any connection
+between Pete and Johnny's disappearance. He knew only that all Whitneys
+were enemies and that Pete had been near when Johnny was hurt.
+
+He crouched in the brush, undecided for the moment. If he lay perfectly
+still, Pete probably would pass without seeing him. But as the man drew
+nearer, Pal's nervousness increased. He decided suddenly that he would
+be safer with Jeff.
+
+Pete was just a short distance away when Pal cleared the road in one
+bound and raced toward the cabin. The dog knew that he had been seen,
+but he did not care. The one dangerous time had been the fleeting
+instant he'd needed to cross the road and that was dangerous only
+because the road offered no cover. Once in the brush, he could run away
+from any man.
+
+He found Dan drawing water from the spring beside the cabin and slowed
+to a walk. Because he had run hard, he was panting. He paused very
+close to the boy and looked nervously back toward the road. Dan stared
+curiously at him.
+
+"What's down there?" he questioned. "What'd you find, Pal?"
+
+The great dog turned toward Dan and wagged his tail as evidence of good
+will. But his hackles remained raised as he accompanied the boy into the
+cabin. The good smell of frying bacon perfumed the air. Standing over
+the stove, Jeff looked around questioningly.
+
+"Isn't that bucket a load for you, Dan?"
+
+"Nah! I can carry it."
+
+Jeff grinned. Most boys were proud of their physical prowess and he had
+not offended Dan by offering to draw the water for him. He broke eggs
+into the sputtering skillet. Pal growled and Jeff turned again to look.
+
+"What's ailing him?"
+
+"I don't know. He must have smelled something he don't like. When he
+came up to me, he was running."
+
+Pal, knowing that Pete Whitney was coming toward the cabin, retreated to
+the far end of the room and stood. Still bristling, he showed his teeth.
+Jeff was puzzled.
+
+"What's the--?"
+
+"Something's around," Dan said quickly. He looked out of the window.
+"Jeff! Pete Whitney's coming!"
+
+Eyes blazing, he looked toward the shotgun. Jeff saw and interpreted his
+glance.
+
+"Remember! We're not going off half-cocked."
+
+"Uh--All right."
+
+Jeff opened the door and saw the man standing in front of the cabin.
+Pete Whitney's clothing was slipshod, but that alone did not give him
+the air he had. Jeff was not able to place it at once. There was
+something about him that should not be, something very like a surly
+animal. About thirty, Pete had fine blond hair that seemed rooted so
+precariously that the slightest wind might blow it away. His unshaven
+cheeks were covered with stubble.
+
+Pale blue eyes shifted sideways, and he raised a foot as though about to
+run. Yet, at the same time, it was as though he had no intention of
+running. As far as Jeff could see, he carried no firearms, but he acted
+as though he were armed, and doubtless he was. Mentally, Jeff compared
+him to the man he had met yesterday. That man had also been careless of
+his clothing and appearance, but there was a strength and character in
+his being that was not evident in Pete. Barr Whitney was strong. Pete
+was weak.
+
+Jeff asked pleasantly, "Something I can do for you?"
+
+"Nao." Pete spoke with a high nasal twang. "You live here?"
+
+"Since yesterday," Jeff said. "Dan and I are here together."
+
+"I swan!" Pete ejaculated. "I swan!"
+
+Jeff saw that he was obviously frightened. In spite of the fact that he
+seemed to be a man who would take fright easily, he might need help.
+
+"Are you in trouble?"
+
+"Nao. It's jest that I was passin' up the raoad an'--an'--" He blurted
+out. "I swan I saw Johnny Blazer's big dog!"
+
+Jeff thought swiftly. Why should seeing Johnny Blazer's dog be cause for
+such alarm? He asked casually, "Where'd you see him?"
+
+"Down thar on the raoad! I swan--a ha'nt dog!"
+
+Jeff understood and relaxed. Many of the mountain people believed
+firmly in haunts, spirits and witchcraft. And everybody around
+Smithville had reason to believe that Pal must be dead. With an effort,
+Jeff concealed his amusement. A man such as this, thinking Johnny
+Blazer's dog dead and coming suddenly upon him, might tremble easily.
+
+"You did see him," Jeff said. "He's here."
+
+"He be?"
+
+For a split second, Pete's eyes lost their lack-luster appearance and
+venom flooded them. A cold finger brushed Jeff's spine. Any man able to
+look like that was a dangerous one. Jeff thought of his pack and of the
+shotgun in its corner. Then he decided that he could handle Pete, and
+meanwhile there were the amenities to be observed.
+
+"Had breakfast?"
+
+"Nao."
+
+"Come on in and have some."
+
+Pete shuffled into the cabin. Mouth taut and eyes angry, Dan backed
+toward Pal. The dog growled savagely. Jeff's eyes caught Dan's and he
+tried to flash a warning. He and Dan had a pact which included no hasty
+or ill-timed moves and definitely no shooting of anyone. Jeff spoke
+sharply to the dog.
+
+"Stop it, Pal!"
+
+Pal subsided and Pete said nasally, "Blazer allus call't him Buster."
+
+"He's Pal now."
+
+Jeff set a plate of bacon and eggs on the table and put bread and butter
+beside it.
+
+"You may as well start, Dan."
+
+Unable completely to erase the anger from his eyes, not speaking, Dan
+sat down and began to eat. Jeff put the bacon and eggs he had intended
+for himself on another plate. Thoughtfully he set the plate on the other
+side of the table, two places away from the furious Dan.
+
+"Here you are, Mr.--?"
+
+"Whitney's the name. Pete Whitney."
+
+"I'm Jeff Tarrant and this is Dan Blazer."
+
+"Yeah?" Interest leaped in Pete's eyes. "Any kin to John?"
+
+"He was my pop!" Dan flared. "That you know very well!"
+
+"Dan, mind your manners!" Jeff remonstrated, putting more bacon and eggs
+in the skillet.
+
+"I'm minding them! He knows who my pop was and he knows me!"
+
+Pete, who had been eating as though finishing the meal was a job he had
+to complete in a great hurry, put his fork down and bent over his plate.
+Again Jeff thought uncomfortably of a hunted animal, and though he could
+not see Pete's eyes, he was sure that they were once more venom-ridden.
+There was an awkward silence which Pete broke.
+
+"Seems to me I do mind a young'un comin' to see John."
+
+Dan flared again. "Do you also 'mind' that my pop was shot? Maybe you
+even know who shot him!"
+
+"Dan!" Jeff thundered.
+
+For a few seconds Pete lingered over his food. Then it was as though he
+had thought out a decision which had been hard to make. He speared half
+an egg, curled a whole strip of bacon on the end of his fork, shoved
+everything into his mouth and began to chew noisily.
+
+"Nao," he said. "I wouldn't knaow who done fer John."
+
+"Dan's upset," Jeff explained. "He didn't realize what he was saying."
+
+An explosive, "I did, too" lingered on Dan's lips and died there when he
+caught Jeff's eyes. As the latter turned to lift his own breakfast out
+of the skillet, Pete nodded vigorously.
+
+"Likely. Likely. Young'uns do get upsot. What be ye doin' here?"
+
+Jeff said smoothly, "We represent Tarrant Enterprises, Ltd., and came
+because we thought we could do some business around Smithville."
+
+Pete's shifty eyes found Jeff's pack. "Peddler, huh?"
+
+"Some people call it that."
+
+"Whar'd ye find the dog?"
+
+"Over beyond Cressman. He made himself at home with us."
+
+Jeff put his own plate on the table and began to eat. Pete mopped up the
+last of his breakfast with a crust of bread, plopped it into his mouth,
+and licked his fingers. That done, he picked up the conversation where
+it had been dropped.
+
+"Take care he ain't kil't."
+
+"Take care who isn't killed?"
+
+"The dog. He turned right snarly after Blazer was kil't. Bill Ellis'd a
+shot him if he hadn't took a mind to run away."
+
+"Did he hurt anybody?"
+
+"Nao. But he had a mind to."
+
+Pete leaned back, looking at the ceiling and cleaning his teeth with his
+tongue. He asked suddenly, "Whar'd ye get the young'un?"
+
+For a moment Jeff fumbled. But Tarrant Enterprises, Ltd., had taught
+him that it was not a good idea to be at a loss long enough to let
+anyone else think too far ahead of him. He said glibly, "Dan was farmed
+out to me."
+
+Jeff referred to the common practice of placing with accredited people
+who would support them, youngsters who had no other place to turn. Dan
+glared. Jeff did not look at him.
+
+Pete Whitney said, "You git a smart lot of work out'en a farmed-out
+young'un if you whomp him to it."
+
+Jeff's next words erased Dan's glare. "Dan doesn't need 'whomping.'
+We're full partners."
+
+"Aoh."
+
+There was another silence. Finally Pete Whitney asked, "What ye
+peddlin?"
+
+"What do you need?"
+
+"I ast you."
+
+"Cash or swap?"
+
+"Swap." Pete looked surprised that anyone should think he had cash.
+
+"What can you swap?"
+
+Pete reached inside his shirt and drew out a knife. It was much cruder
+than the works of art Jeff had had from Bart Whitney. But it was sturdy,
+and the blade, Jeff thought wryly, was certainly keen enough to
+penetrate anything that Pete might have reason to stab. Since there was
+a buyer for everything, it stood to reason that there would be a buyer
+for Pete's knife. Jeff went to his pack, took out a cheap jackknife, a
+compass and a wrapped parcel. He extended the knife.
+
+"I'll swap even for this."
+
+Pete accepted the knife, opened it, tried the blade on the back of his
+horny hand, and passed it back.
+
+"Nao. That piddlin' thin'd bend on rabbit fur."
+
+Enjoying himself, as he always did when bartering, Jeff handed the
+compass over. Pete looked at it. Puzzled, he glanced back at Jeff.
+
+"Do it tell the hour?"
+
+Dan laughed. Jeff explained. "It's called a compass. See? The needle
+always points north. Anyone who carries this can tell any direction at
+all."
+
+Pete was honestly astounded. "You mean they's some what cain't?"
+
+"There are some, but I thought you wouldn't be one of them!"
+
+He spoke admiringly, stressing the "you." Sales resistance faded to
+nothing if the seller, while convincing the buyer that he was much to be
+admired, could at the same time build up the buyer's opinion of himself.
+Like a good showman, Jeff had saved his masterpiece for last. He
+unwrapped the parcel to reveal a cheap box whose exterior was stamped
+with gaudy green dragons. Pete regarded it with narrowed eyes.
+
+"This," Jeff said smoothly, "I offer to very few customers. Now if
+you'll just keep your eye on the box--"
+
+Pete obliged, bending so closely that his face was no more than six
+inches from the box. Jeff pressed a button. The lid flew open and a
+green bellows surmounted by a grinning clown's head sprang up to hit
+Pete on the nose. He leaped backward, flung himself from the table and
+crouched. Again Jeff thought of an animal. But this time it was a beast
+of prey. And it was ready to strike.
+
+The jack that had leaped out of the box quivered on the table, swaying
+this way and that. Completely astounded, Pete regarded it for a moment.
+Then sheer delight flooded his eyes.
+
+"I swan!"
+
+Jeff said proudly, "Ever see anything like that?"
+
+"Put it back!"
+
+Jeff pressed the jack into place. Uncertainly, still a little fearful of
+such magic, Pete came near. He extended a hand and immediately withdrew
+it.
+
+"Do it ag'in!"
+
+Jeff pressed the button and the performance was repeated. Sure now that
+there was nothing to fear, Pete picked the toy up and looked at it
+closely. He pushed the jack down, latched the cover, and pressed the
+button. When the clown's head flew up, he tittered nervously.
+
+"I swan!"
+
+"For that I must have two knives."
+
+"Got but one."
+
+Jeff frowned. The jack-in-the-box was a cheap trinket and the knife was
+worth four times as much. But Pete considered the jack a very valuable
+object and Jeff hoped to do much trading around Smithville. He did not
+want to be known for accepting the first thing offered and, besides,
+that was bad business. It took all the sport out of trading.
+
+"Have to have something to boot," he said firmly.
+
+"I got this."
+
+From his sagging pocket Pete took a length of braided horsehide. But it
+had been so skillfully cured and so expertly braided that it was strong
+as rope and pliable as the finest cloth. It would make a wonderful
+bridle rein, but Jeff said hesitantly, "I don't know what I'd use it
+for."
+
+"Fer tyin' things."
+
+"Well--" Jeff allowed himself to be convinced.
+
+Pete sprung the jack again and again, fascinated by this simple thing
+which smacked of magic, because never before had he seen anything like
+it. Then, holding his jack-in-the-box as though it were eggshells, he
+made the swift transformation from fascinated child to dangerous man.
+
+"Stick to peddlin'," he said shortly, and took his leave.
+
+It was at the same time a threat and a warning and Jeff knew it. For a
+moment he sat still, then got up and strolled quietly to the window.
+Going down the path, Pete Whitney sprung the jack and his tittering
+giggle seemed again to be heard in the room.
+
+
+
+
+7. GRANNY
+
+
+Absorbed in watching Pete, Jeff was almost unaware when Dan came to
+stand beside him. As Pete disappeared, hidden by foliage, he turned away
+from the window and came face to face with Dan.
+
+The boy's cheeks were flushed and hot anger burned in his eyes. Both
+fists were clenched so tightly that straining knuckles showed white.
+
+Jeff said quietly, "Come out of it, Dan."
+
+"He's a Whitney!"
+
+"Sorry you didn't shoot him?"
+
+"I--It's not that, Jeff. I wasn't thinking very straight when I told you
+I aimed to shoot all the Whitneys. It's--Why should a Whitney be in my
+pop's cabin?"
+
+"He was at our door and he was hungry."
+
+"Well--Doggonit, Jeff! You talk sense!"
+
+Jeff heaved an inward sigh of relief. Yesterday Dan had not only talked
+of killing every Whitney, but he had acted fully capable of doing it.
+But yesterday he had been tired, hungry and so terribly alone. Good food
+and proper rest had worked a change, but they had not made him forget
+why he was here. Nothing would ever do that.
+
+Dan asked, "You think we will get him, don't you?"
+
+"Get who?"
+
+"Whoever killed my pop!"
+
+"Murder can't be hidden, Dan," Jeff spoke with quiet forcefulness, "if
+somebody really wants to find it out."
+
+"And we'll find out?"
+
+"We'll find out."
+
+"Then," Dan gritted his teeth, "we'll shoot!"
+
+Jeff said nothing. Dan was too young, too angry, and too steeped in the
+traditions of the hills, to think of anything except violent vengeance.
+Rather than tell him he was wrong, Jeff hoped to prove it. When they
+found whoever had murdered Johnny Blazer--and they must find him if
+Dan's tangled path was ever to be straight again--the law could take
+over. Jeff hoped that, at the right time, Dan would see such a course as
+the proper one. For the present, the less said the better.
+
+"Let's get the place cleaned up and go out trading," Jeff suggested.
+
+"Good!"
+
+Jeff washed dishes while Dan swept the floor, and it made no difference
+that it had also been swept last night. Only those with little regard
+for themselves were contented to accept dirty surroundings, and one way
+to keep dirt from accumulating was to clean often. The cabin in order,
+Jeff showed Dan his pack.
+
+Each of its numerous straps, so adjusted that they opened at the flick
+of a finger, gave access to one compartment, and within themselves some
+of the compartments were further divided. They were also of various
+sizes. Obviously it was possible to carry a vast number of pins,
+needles, spools of thread, etc., in a somewhat small space. Kitchen
+ware, of which Jeff had a considerable store, naturally needed more
+room. There was a place for bright ribbons, one for candy, and articles
+such as spices and tea were stored by themselves. Jeff had razor blades,
+pencils, an assortment of novelties such as the jack-in-the-box, a
+variety of small tools, nails, and both wood and metal screws. At the
+rear, reached by thrusting the hand through a hidden flap, were six more
+knives like the one he'd traded to Barr Whitney, meerschaum pipes,
+pocket watches, and a few other valuables that were best kept where they
+were not at once available or easily found.
+
+Jeff explained that he always planned to carry as great an assortment as
+possible, with very few large articles. The partial bolt of gingham, the
+biggest single thing in the pack, he carried, not because there was much
+profit in carrying it, but because being able to offer gingham often
+provided an opening wedge to other sales.... When he started, he had
+operated on a strictly cash basis and had earned a fair amount of money
+doing so. Then he had discovered a great truth which had its foundations
+in the complexities of human nature. No matter what the article, from
+aardvark whiskers to zebra tails, somewhere somebody not only wanted it
+but wanted it badly enough to pay well. On the Atlantic Coast, Jeff had
+picked up a box of sea shells. In Indiana, he had met a trapper who'd
+never seen any sea shells and traded them for a bundle of mink pelts.
+Taking the pelts to Chicago, he had sold them to a furrier for more
+money than he might have earned in two weeks peddling for cash.
+
+Though everything was precious, or at least desirable, to somebody,
+whoever had an abundance of any kind of goods was seldom inclined to
+regard it highly. But though they'd always sell for cash, whoever
+offered something that they wanted, did not have and would find it
+difficult to get, invariably made a better bargain. Jeff cited the knife
+and thong he had acquired from Pete Whitney. The jack-in-the-box had
+cost fifteen cents, but Jeff would be able to sell the knife for at
+least a dollar and twenty cents, and he did not know how much the
+horsehide thong would bring. But because Pete thought the
+jack-in-the-box such a treasure, and never would have been able to get
+one for himself, he hadn't been cheated.
+
+Jeff concluded with the observation that peddlers had to recognize true
+value when they saw it. Otherwise they would not be able to remain in
+business.
+
+Dan's eyes sparkled. "That sounds like fun!"
+
+"It has its points," Jeff admitted.
+
+"Take me in with you for good!" Dan pleaded. "I want to be a peddler,
+too!"
+
+Jeff glanced aside. He had taken this waif under his wing and could not
+abandon him. Then he was struck by the happy thought that Dan's request
+gave him control over his charge. "We'll see," he evaded the issue.
+
+"Take me! I'll do anything if you'll teach me!"
+
+Jeff asked quickly, "Can I count on that?"
+
+"Anything! Just ask me!"
+
+"You'll do exactly as I say?"
+
+"Try it! What do you want done?"
+
+Jeff grinned. "Right now let's go peddling--and leave the shotgun here."
+
+"But--"
+
+"You said you'd do anything."
+
+"Let's go, Jeff."
+
+With an ease born of long experience, Jeff slipped into the pack.
+Knowing that they were going out, Pal leaped to his feet and a doggy
+grin framed his jaws. Jeff closed the door but did not lock it. The
+cabin had been rifled only because it was thought abandoned. Known to be
+occupied, it was safe. The hill men might use force to get what they
+wanted, or even kill another man for it, but petty pilfering was beneath
+them.
+
+The sun was warm without being too warm, and a breeze fanned the cheeks
+of the pair of peddlers. The smile was complete on Jeff's face, and
+laughter was in his heart. The horizon stretched limitlessly, with no
+end or definition, and good fortune was a certainty. He couldn't be
+other than happy.
+
+"Where we going, Jeff?" Dan asked.
+
+"I don't know. Let's follow our noses and go where they lead."
+
+Jeff took the first mule and footpath that branched from the road, for
+he was sure that most of the people he wanted to see would be back in.
+Most hill people preferred plenty of room and they did not, as one
+hillbilly had expressed it to Jeff, like to be "All cluttered up with
+people. Skassly a week passes but what three, four go by."
+
+Ranging ahead, Pal flushed a buck from its thicket, chased it a little
+way, and let it go. He returned to Jeff and Dan, lingered to sniff at
+some interesting rabbit tracks, and ran to catch up. There came a faint
+smell of wood smoke.
+
+Jeff sniffed eagerly, trying to determine the smoke's origin, and he
+thought with some amusement that he was doing exactly as he had told Dan
+they would do. In a very real sense he was following his nose, and when
+he came to a less-traveled path that swung from the one they were
+following, he took it.
+
+Pal at his heels, Dan bringing up the rear, he walked fast. In three
+minutes they came to a clearing. Apparently without plan, it had been
+hacked out of the forest. It was irregularly-shaped, probably to follow
+the easiest cutting, and a few large trees had been allowed to stand in
+it. There were many stumps, a small garden, a mule that hung its head
+over the topmost of two strands of rusting wire and looked cynical, and
+four half-wild pigs that squealed and scuttled into the brush. The barn,
+that had listed badly and seemed in immediate danger of falling, was
+propped up with saplings. The house, made of hand-hewn timbers, was very
+small and very old. Rains, snow, sun and wind had so beaten it that it
+had achieved a unique color all its own and somehow it looked sad.
+
+Jeff knocked confidently and waited. The door opened an inch, then
+another inch, and in the gloomy interior Jeff saw, not too well, a
+scowling face that was framed in a veritable haystack of black hair and
+beard. But he saw very clearly the sinister snout of a rifle that was
+aimed squarely at his middle and he heard very clearly a growled,
+
+"Git goin' an' start now!"
+
+"Right away," Jeff agreed.
+
+He whirled and started back to the main path. Too over-awed to speak,
+Dan trotted at his heels and he dared say nothing until they were once
+more where they had started from. Then,
+
+"Gee!" he breathed. "Weren't you scared?"
+
+"No," Jeff answered wryly, "my heart always pounds."
+
+"Do you think he didn't want us around?"
+
+"I had a slight suspicion."
+
+"What do we do now?"
+
+"Find somebody else," Jeff said cheerfully. "It's part of peddling."
+
+The day was too fine, and too sparkling, to be ruined by any surly
+mountaineer. They walked on, feet winged and hearts gay. Jeff thought
+whimsically that the money he made selling or trading was the very
+smallest part of the reward he received. By far the major portion lay in
+walks just like this, in the fact that he loved the work he was doing,
+and in trying to anticipate what lay ahead. He always tried to build up
+a mental picture of his next customer, always failed to do so, and
+invariably had to discard his carefully-rehearsed approach to create a
+new one on the spur of the moment. Much of the time he knew the sort of
+house in which his next prospect would live, but nothing in his
+experience had prepared him for the house they found not a mile from the
+one they had left.
+
+Rounding a bend, they saw a little hill. There was nothing majestic or
+imposing about it, for it was a very small hill. But it was a very
+beautiful one. It was as though the Creator of the mountains, after much
+deliberation, had decided that the little hill would fit nowhere except
+exactly where it was.
+
+All the trees save one had been stripped from the side, Jeff and Dan
+could see, and the grass growing there was so green and soft that it was
+almost unreal. The one tree gave it just the right touch, so it was as
+though this hill were something out of fairyland. A little herd of sheep
+cropped the grass. Delighted, Jeff let his gaze stray upward.
+
+"Gee but it's pretty!" Dan breathed.
+
+"It is that," Jeff agreed. "Look at the house."
+
+There were trees on the very top of the hill. Silhouetted against the
+blue sky, they seemed to be outlined against a gentle sea. A log house
+nestled in the grove. Something--at first Jeff thought it must be the
+whitewash that outlined all the windows and then he knew it was not--set
+the house apart. Like the hill, it was a fairyland house and Jeff knew
+that they must visit there.
+
+The hill rose in undulating waves, with no harsh angles or uncouth lines
+to mar it. But it was not a park-like perfection. Some person, or
+persons, must have expended enormous labor to make the hill look as it
+did. But every line, every patch of grass, seemed to belong naturally
+just where it was.
+
+Jeff could decide only that this was a happy hill and that whoever lived
+in the house was either the owner of a rare talent or blessed beyond
+belief by the angels. Or perhaps some of both.
+
+They came to the house and marveled. It was made of logs and chinked
+with clay, but nothing haphazard had gone into its making. Even the
+chinking was not just slapped on and troweled in, but flowed in graceful
+lines as though it had always been part of the logs. As old as the cabin
+they had left, the house had a sheen instead of a sad and aged
+appearance. Whoever lived here must love it greatly.
+
+"Howdy, boys."
+
+The woman came around the house so silently and so unexpectedly that for
+a moment Jeff was startled. The top of her head reached scarcely to his
+shoulder. Her silver hair glowed like a halo, but there was something
+which was far from angelic in the remarkable eyes that dominated her
+unusual face. She wore a simple blue dress. Highlighted in silver, an
+exquisitely-stitched blue-bird in flight adorned the front of it. Her
+movements were quick and graceful. But there was no suggestion of
+frailty, and the muzzle loading rifle that swung easily from her right
+hand might have been a strong man's weapon.
+
+Without any hesitation, Pal went forward to receive her caress. In a
+sudden rush of feeling, Jeff forgot his amazement and felt entirely at
+home. He knew all at once that everything and everybody was welcome on
+this hill.
+
+"And howdy to you, Granny!" he said graciously. "I'm--" Jeff thought of
+introducing himself as Tarrant Enterprises, Ltd., but did not. "I'm Jeff
+Tarrant and this is Dan Blazer."
+
+Her head flitted like a bird's. "And I'm Granny Wilson."
+
+"Wilson?" Jeff remembered. "I met an Ike Wilson in Cressman."
+
+"Did you now? Ike's one of my boys. What was he doin'?"
+
+"He was--" Jeff fumbled. "Darned if I haven't forgotten!"
+
+Her laugh was like rippling water. "He was in jail for stealin'
+chickens. You can say it, Jeff. It takes all kinds to make a family. My
+Tommy's a doctor, my Joel's a lawyer, my Billy's a sailor--" She named
+four more sons, all of whom were in some useful occupation, and
+finished, "They all followed their natural bent and Ike just naturally
+took to chicken stealin'." She turned to Dan. "You kin to Johnny
+Blazer?"
+
+Dan said bashfully, "He was my pop."
+
+"Come in," she invited. "Come in and set down to gingerbread and milk. I
+vow I've missed Johnny and I'm glad to have his kin! You come, too,
+Jeff, and fetch your dog!"
+
+Jeff looked at the rifle. "Have you been hunting?"
+
+"Land no!" She laughed. "I was shootin' at Brant Severance!"
+
+"You--!"
+
+"Didn't hit him," she said. "Didn't aim to hit him. Just wanted to show
+him he couldn't pester my sheep."
+
+"But--isn't there--"
+
+She anticipated and forestalled his question. "Nope, I'm all alone. My
+boys, they want me to come with them. Land! I'd grow old and shrively in
+a city! Two houses are one too many! Do come in."
+
+Granny opened the door that was made of carefully-mortised,
+hand-polished boards and adorned with an excellent wood carving that
+depicted a running buck chased by wolves. Jeff and Dan breathed their
+delight.
+
+Except for the stove, the pots and pans that hung behind it, the lamps,
+and a few other articles that would be very difficult to fashion with
+hand tools, every bit of furniture had been made of whatever materials
+were available. But whoever made it had not been contented with
+something merely useful. Strict utility had received consideration, but
+beauty was in vast abundance.
+
+Jeff looked through a large window that faced the back and saw a neat
+garden, a little grove of fruit trees, a fat mule, a brown cow, and a
+cat sitting on a stone. It was exactly the big, fluffy, white cat that
+should have belonged in such a place. Not until he took a second glance
+did he realize that the cat was not alive at all, but woven into a
+tapestry. He went nearer.
+
+Stretched on a walnut frame, the tapestry was so exquisitely woven that
+the cat's every hair not only showed but was in the right place. The cat
+was about to lick a front paw, and even after he knew it was a tapestry,
+so real was the illusion of life that Jeff extended a hand to see if the
+cat might not be soft and warm. He turned to Granny.
+
+"Who did this?"
+
+She was all gentleness. "I did. That's my Kitty Cat, dead these four
+months."
+
+There was longing in her voice, and more than a hint of sadness, and
+Jeff knew that the cat had meant a great deal to her. He understood.
+Some people loved horses, some preferred dogs, and some set their
+affections on cats. But for Granny it could not be just any cat.
+
+Jeff asked, "Do you do much of this sort of thing?"
+
+"Land, yes! A body ought to keep busy!"
+
+Jeff said gently, "I think you've kept busy a long while around here."
+
+"Sixty-four years the seventh of May," she said pertly. "Came as a
+sixteen-year-old bride. Enos, God rest his soul, has been gone these
+past three years. You two come on into the kitchen."
+
+She led them into the kitchen, seated them, opened a trap door in the
+floor, took cool milk from an earth-bound chamber, and lifted a tray of
+gingerbread from a cabinet. Eighty years old, her movements were almost
+as brisk and sure as a girl's. Jeff and Dan ate heartily; any food they
+prepared for themselves could not possibly compare with this. Granny
+seated herself companionably near.
+
+"Ike say when he was gettin' out?" she asked.
+
+"Well, no. He was there with Bucky--" Jeff snapped his fingers. "I
+forgot his last name."
+
+"Bucky Edwards," she furnished. "Land! He and Ike been stealin' chickens
+for a span of time."
+
+Jeff sensed something completely fine. She was old in years only. Until
+the day she died her mind would be young and strong. Ike's escapades
+probably did hurt her, but Ike was as much her son as the doctor, the
+lawyer and the others who had decided in favor of respectable careers.
+She would not deny him.
+
+Jeff said, "Ike and Bucky didn't seem to have any definite plans."
+
+"They have some," she assured him. "They'll come here, and when they do,
+there'll be a heap of trouble--" She stopped suddenly, as though she had
+said something unwise.
+
+"When do you expect them?" Jeff asked.
+
+"Don't rightly know. Maybe soon. Maybe not so soon."
+
+For a moment Jeff was silent and Dan was still stuffing gingerbread into
+his mouth. Granny had spoken of trouble when Ike came, but apparently it
+was not trouble for herself, and if she wanted him to know more about it
+she would have told him. He wished he could offer her help, but he had
+an uncomfortable feeling that she knew how to help herself. He was
+trying to think of a way to steer the conversation away from Ike when
+Granny relieved him of the necessity for so doing.
+
+"What you peddlin'?" she asked brightly.
+
+Jeff fidgeted. The contents of his pack, for the most part, were
+designed for those who had little. Jeff tried to please people who
+yearned after a bit of gay ribbon, a new knife, anything they might need
+or desire but could not get for themselves. But he couldn't imagine what
+Granny lacked and countered her question with one of his own.
+
+"Where do you get your thread and yarn?"
+
+She looked surprised. "Spin it myself, to be sure. I have sheep. I grow
+flax, too."
+
+Jeff followed up because he was interested. "Do you also make your own
+dyes?"
+
+"Land, yes! 'Twould be a sin to let the yarbs go to waste when they grow
+right at the door step!"
+
+"Do you use anything besides herbs?"
+
+"Bark, seeds, nut husks and shells, it's all here. Take a bit of this, a
+bit of that, a bit of another thing, seethe it, and there's a dye."
+
+"I know you do your own weaving."
+
+"Land, yes!"
+
+Jeff grinned ruefully. For the first time since its founding, Tarrant
+Enterprises, Ltd., had reached a blind end. "Something for Everyone,"
+was one of its numerous slogans. But he did not have anything for Granny
+Wilson and he was honest about it.
+
+"Granny, I don't believe I can offer you a thing."
+
+"Oh, come now! You must have somethin'!"
+
+"But I haven't."
+
+"Now, Jeff, you jest open that pack and give me a look for myself."
+
+"I'll do that much."
+
+Jeff laid his pack on the table and opened every compartment. Granny
+reached for a skein of gray yarn. She tested it with her fingers,
+murmured, "Poorly, poorly," and handed it back. Granny ignored the
+bright ribbons, had no time whatever for the knickknacks, lingered over
+a packet of needles, and her eyes were accusing when she gave them back.
+
+"Young man, you are a poor shakes of a peddler."
+
+"I tried to tell you I hadn't anything you'd want."
+
+"You should have somethin' to please a poor old woman."
+
+"I know. If I had anything good enough for you--Oh, darn!"
+
+A skein of yarn tumbled out of the pack and caught on a buckle. Jeff
+reached through the slit for one of the many-bladed knives, opened the
+scissors, and carefully snipped the tangled wool off. Granny clapped
+joyful hands.
+
+"I knew it! I knew it! Give me that."
+
+Jeff handed her the knife. Granny's eyes shone.
+
+"Just the thing!" she cried ecstatically. "Just what I need! My eyes
+ain't what they used to be. I missed two shots at runnin' bucks last
+fall and I'm forever mislayin' my necessaries. 'Twould be handy to have
+so many in one piece. Cash or swap?"
+
+Jeff said recklessly, "Let's call it a gift, Granny."
+
+"But," she was honestly troubled, "you can't give me aught that cost you
+dear."
+
+"Yes I can."
+
+"Not by my leave," she said firmly. "It's only right that a body gets
+his worth."
+
+"I'll swap even for a look at some of your other tapestries."
+
+"My what?"
+
+"Your cloth pictures, like the cat."
+
+"Land! I'll get some."
+
+She bounced from her chair, bustled into an adjoining room, and they
+heard her open a trunk. A moment later she was back with two tapestries
+under her arm. She spread one, a yard long by about twenty inches wide,
+and Jeff gasped.
+
+It was _The Last Supper_, but instead of following conventional
+patterns, Granny had drawn inspiration from the life around her. Jesus
+and His disciples were seated at a wooden table that was innocent of any
+adornment or finery whatsoever, but the table was so finely done that a
+sliver thrusting out from it seemed both real and symbolic. There was an
+air of dignity that rose above mere human dignity, and the dyes had been
+applied with a touch so delicate that holy light seemed to emanate from
+the picture. Its message was one of hope. Judas was not to be abandoned.
+
+"Do you like it?" Granny asked.
+
+"It--" Jeff was at a loss for words. "It's wonderful!"
+
+"Preacher Skiles thinks the Lord ain't right."
+
+"Preacher Skiles assumes a great deal of responsibility."
+
+She laughed. "'Twas not the way he meant it. He thinks Jesus should be
+sittin' above the rest, with maybe angels flyin' at His shoulder."
+
+"It's better this way."
+
+"That's what I thought," Granny asserted. "The Lord, He wasn't above the
+beggars, the sick and those who done wrong. Somehow I got to think of
+Him as comin' down to all of us."
+
+"I, too."
+
+"This one," Granny spread the other tapestry, "I call _The Fall of
+Satan_."
+
+Jeff gasped again. The picture centered around the black silhouette of
+Satan, with a background done in delicate shades of red. There was about
+the figure utter misery, abandonment and despair. The gates of hell,
+which he had not yet entered, were merely suggested. But they were
+suggested so artistically that one sensed the seething fires, the
+complete torment, that awaited.
+
+Dan looked and shuddered. "Gee!"
+
+Jeff breathed, "Why hasn't anyone else seen these, Granny?"
+
+"Enos," she answered, "didn't hold with hangin' them on the walls and
+I've tried to keep the house as Enos'd want it. But I knew Enos wouldn't
+mind Kitty Cat. He--he's company."
+
+"Somebody should see them."
+
+"Pooh! Who'd bother with an old woman's foolishness?"
+
+"I would."
+
+"Then take them. Take them for the knife."
+
+"I won't do it."
+
+She seemed crestfallen. "I didn't think you would."
+
+Jeff said seriously, "It isn't that. These are worth a great deal of
+money."
+
+"They are? How much?"
+
+Jeff hazarded a guess, "Twenty-five dollars."
+
+"Land!"
+
+"Each," Jeff finished.
+
+"My land!"
+
+"Granny, do you trust me?"
+
+"Pooh! I didn't raise eight of my own 'thout knowin' aught of boys."
+
+"Are these dear to you?"
+
+"I don't set much store by 'em. Enos never liked 'em."
+
+"Let me take them into Ackerton," Jeff urged. "Let me see what I can do
+with them there."
+
+"Go ahead if you've a mind to. Land! Meal time and I haven't started a
+thing for you boys to eat!"
+
+
+
+
+8. ACKERTON
+
+
+Jeff awakened an hour before sunrise. He raised himself on his bunk and
+listened. Dan's regular breathing proved that he still slept, and Jeff
+settled back beneath his warm blankets to do some thinking.
+
+In some respects, the trading around Smithville had not gone as well as
+he had hoped it would. The hill men had been eager for his knives of
+many uses, his fishing tackle, his small tools, his nails and all the
+bolts and screws he had. They had also taken all the novelties. But they
+had spurned his inferior products because they could make better ones
+themselves, and Jeff had been able to trade only one watch. Watches were
+useless to those who guided themselves by the sun.
+
+The women had been happy over the gay ribbons, the thread and yarn, the
+pins and needles, and the bolt of gingham had gone in two days. It was
+better and more colorful than anything Abel Tarkman stocked. But the
+women had wanted only a small portion of his kitchenware and spices.
+Jeff had traded all his cinnamon, pepper, tea and the few other things
+that could not be found locally. But no hill woman would think of
+offering anything at all for what she could find growing within easy
+reach of her doorstep or was able to produce in her garden.
+
+The candy had been exhausted by the third day, and Jeff grinned at the
+way it had gone. He had conceived what he thought was the clever idea of
+bribing the children with it, and he had discovered that the older folks
+had a sweet tooth, too. Never to be forgotten was Grandpa Severance,
+sucking a striped peppermint stick with toothless jaws.
+
+However, in other respects, trading had far exceeded Jeff's fondest
+hopes.
+
+Though the hill people had rejected some of his wares, they had been
+willing to pay well for what they did want. Jeff and Dan had visited
+their cabins or met them on the trails, for news that a peddler who'd
+rather trade than sell was abroad had penetrated into the remotest
+valleys. Jeff had a dozen hunting knives whose quality ranged from fair
+to superb. There were three exquisitely balanced hand-made hatchets, a
+wonderfully polished hunting horn, a set of fine miniatures made of deer
+antler, a fringed buckskin shirt, four pairs of superior moccasins and
+other articles, including an ancient matchlock pistol still in working
+order. Granny Wilson's tapestries remained his biggest prize.
+
+Jeff knew that, beyond any doubt, his week's work had paid him more than
+any previous month's. But he knew also that he would have to get trade
+goods that conformed to the hill people's idea of what they wanted.
+Therefore, in order to get new stock and dispose of the wares he had, a
+trip to Ackerton was necessary. That presented a problem.
+
+Dan had traveled with him all week. Far from lagging, his interest in
+trading had heightened. So far Dan had kept his promise and had done as
+Jeff said. But by the fastest route it would take a full day to go to
+Ackerton, a full day to return, and Jeff thought that he would need at
+least four or five days in the city. What would Dan do if Jeff were not
+there to restrain him? The boy had never forgotten that a blood feud had
+brought him back to Smithville.
+
+Dan's bunk rustled and he whispered, "Jeff."
+
+"I'm here."
+
+"Just wanted to see if you're awake."
+
+As it usually did when he needed it most, happy inspiration came to
+Jeff.
+
+"I'm awake all right and I want you to do something for me."
+
+"Sure, Jeff."
+
+"I'm going to Ackerton today and I may be gone a week or more. I want
+you to take Pal and go up to watch over Granny Wilson."
+
+"But--"
+
+"She needs somebody," Jeff urged. "You and I have stopped in there
+almost every day and kept an eye on her. We can't just leave her alone."
+
+Dan said reluctantly, "All right, Jeff. Can I take the shotgun?"
+
+"You'd just better."
+
+His problem neatly solved, Jeff relaxed. When Dan announced that he had
+been assigned as her protector, Granny, in her wisdom, would accept him
+as such. If he should get out of hand, the shotgun shells were loaded
+with nothing but paper. They'd make a satisfactory noise but wouldn't
+hurt anybody.
+
+Jeff prepared their breakfasts, they cleaned the cabin, and with the
+shotgun over one shoulder, half-pulling the unwilling Pal with his free
+hand, Dan started for Granny Wilson's. Pack on his shoulder, Jeff strode
+into Smithville.
+
+There were two routes to Ackerton. The hard one was over the mountains.
+The easy one was eighteen miles down the logger's road to Delview, where
+a train could be boarded, and Jeff chose that way. He walked swiftly,
+anxious to make time, but even as he walked he filed in his mind the
+locations of the cabins he either passed or saw evidence of. There were
+vast possibilities for trade around Smithville. So far he and Dan had
+explored only a small part of it.
+
+Half past twelve brought him to Delview, and Jeff walked openly down the
+street. Larger than Cressman, Delview was busier, and Jeff's peddling
+instincts cried for expression. He submerged them; a city was the only
+place to offer the wares he carried now. Jeff stopped when a policeman
+tapped his shoulder.
+
+"Are you peddling?"
+
+"No," Jeff answered blandly, "just passing through."
+
+"You come from Cressman?"
+
+"Cressman? I came from Smithville."
+
+"Just thought I'd ask. Been fishing?"
+
+"Hunting," Jeff said gravely.
+
+He grinned to himself and walked on. Obviously, Pop and Joe Parker had
+sent word to Delview, but just as obviously they'd told the police there
+to be alert for a red-headed peddler accompanied by a huge dog. On
+impulse, Jeff stopped at a drugstore, bought a postcard, addressed it to
+Joe Parker, and wrote, "Thanks for sending me to Delview. Regards to
+Pop. Happy days."
+
+He signed it J. Seymour Tarrant, Esq., dropped it into a mail box, made
+his way to the station and bought a ticket to Ackerton.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Leaving Delview at half past three, and stopping several times en route,
+the train did not reach Ackerton until a quarter to eight. Jeff bore the
+slow ride serenely, for only the unwise thought that they must forever
+hurry. Besides, time could always be used to good advantage and the slow
+train was a heaven-sent opportunity to work out a plan. Arriving in
+Ackerton, Jeff had a clear idea of just what he wanted to do there.
+
+He left the train and made a confident way through the huge station. He
+had the pack on his back because that was the easiest way to carry it,
+and he met the curious stares directed at him with a good-natured grin.
+He was as out of place here as a well-dressed Ackertonite would have
+been in Smithville, and he elicited the same curiosity. But he did not
+mind because he had been in cities before and he would be forgotten as
+soon as he was out of sight. Jeff's questing eyes found a paper banner
+displayed above one of the station's newsstands:
+
+     HOTEL KENNARD, ACKERTON'S BEST
+
+He glanced at the banner and followed a pointing arrow with TAXI
+stenciled on it. Imperiously he beckoned the lead cab and directed, "The
+Hotel Kennard."
+
+The cabbie looked questioningly at him. "The Kennard?"
+
+"The Kennard," Jeff repeated, "and since I know the shortest way, you
+might as well follow it."
+
+The cabbie shrugged; if this ill-dressed traveler wanted to go to the
+Kennard, and was able to pay for the trip, that was his affair. Jeff
+relaxed in the back seat and gave himself over to enjoying a city's
+sights, sounds, and bustle. Maybe, if he were a very wealthy merchant,
+instead of a peddler, he would enjoy such a place himself. A moment
+later he decided that he wouldn't. Half his fun lay in personal contact
+with customers, and there was little that was personal about city
+business. The cab halted at the curb and the driver opened the door.
+
+"Just a second," Jeff directed.
+
+He glanced swiftly at the Kennard and was satisfied. It was in one of
+the better sections, and the well-dressed men and women going in and out
+were proof enough that it was, if not the best, at least one of the best
+hotels. Thus Jeff had the base of operations that he wanted. He paid the
+cabbie and entered the hotel.
+
+The lobby was plush, with thick carpeting, marble pillars, and the usual
+quota of those who were waiting or simply loafing in upholstered chairs.
+Heads rose, and Jeff winked slyly at an obviously affluent man who
+peered at him over the top of a paper. Embarrassed, the man ducked back
+beneath his paper. Jeff made his way to the desk.
+
+"First floor room with bath," he directed loftily. "I wish to be away
+from street noises and," he looked critically around the lobby, "I
+prefer the better furnishings."
+
+The blasé clerk, who had registered all sorts of guests but few like
+this, took Jeff's measure with his eye.
+
+"Those rooms are five dollars a day."
+
+"My good man! I asked for a room, not advice!"
+
+"Ye--" the clerk was still suspicious but he was also there to rent
+rooms. "Yes, sir. Overnight only?"
+
+"My stay is indefinite."
+
+Jeff signed the register with a flourishing "Jeffrey S. Tarrant,"
+accepted the key and gave his pack over to a solemn-faced bellboy who
+led him down a corridor. He examined the room as he entered, displayed a
+dollar bill, flipped a quarter and said to the bellboy,
+
+"Bring me a city directory, will you?"
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+The bellboy left, knocked discreetly a few minutes later, handed Jeff a
+bulky directory, and Jeff tipped him a dollar. He washed and, careless
+of the glances he attracted, enjoyed a good dinner in the Kennard's
+dining room. Then he returned to his room, belly-flopped on the bed,
+opened the directory, laid a pencil and sheet of paper on it and began
+to run his finger down the columns. He came to "Barnerson, Joseph D.,
+dlr. antqes. 413 Grand Ave.," and wrote the information on his sheet of
+paper. Jeff noted five more dealers in antiques, six sporting goods
+stores and six shops chosen at random which, from their listings, seemed
+to cater to exclusive trade. That done, he referred to a city map in the
+same book and drew a line through whatever did not seem to be in one of
+Ackerton's better districts.
+
+The first phase of his campaign was outlined. Jeff rang for the evening
+papers and read until he was too sleepy to read any more.
+
+From force of habit he awoke at dawn, but turned over and went back to
+sleep. The hill people began their day with the first light, but he was
+in a city now. Jeff awoke again at eight o'clock, breakfasted and made
+his way to the street. He wandered down it and entered the first
+clothing store he found.
+
+"I want a business suit," he told the clerk who accosted him.
+
+"This way, sir."
+
+The clerk tried to read Jeff, thought he'd succeeded, and brought out a
+suit that had been in style fifteen years ago and probably in storage
+since.
+
+Jeff rose with a curt, "Don't you have any new suits?"
+
+"Oh! Sorry, sir. My error."
+
+He fitted Jeff with a neat blue serge suit, a white shirt, a modest but
+smart tie, a pair of socks, and new shoes. Jeff took his old clothes
+back to the Kennard, wrapped one of Barr Whitney's knives, thrust it
+into his inside coat pocket and went out. His trap was set and scented.
+Now he had to see if he would catch anything.
+
+There were four sporting goods stores still on his list, but Jeff passed
+the first because its windows were dirty and the second because it
+advertised a bargain sale. But the third seemed to offer what he wanted.
+He asked the friendly clerk who came forward, "Is Mr. Ryerson in?"
+
+"No, he isn't. But Mr. Calworth is."
+
+"May I see him?"
+
+"This way."
+
+Jeff followed the clerk down the aisle and examined the store closely as
+he did so. The fire arms, fishing tackle and other sporting equipment
+displayed on the counters was all of quality make and he hadn't been
+asked for an appointment, so evidently this store catered to sportsmen
+able to afford the best and at the same time it was not overly formal.
+The clerk ushered him into an office and Jeff's hopes rose.
+
+"Mr. Calworth," the clerk said, "this gentleman wants to see you."
+
+"My name's Tarrant," Jeff shook Mr. Calworth's extended hand, "Jeff
+Tarrant, and I'd hoped you'd be kind enough to furnish me with some
+information."
+
+"Sit down, Mr. Tarrant."
+
+Mr. Calworth was middle-aged, and a sprinkling of gray showed in his
+black hair. But there was a sparkle in his eyes, an ease of movement and
+callouses on his hands. Obviously he did something besides sit at a
+desk, and Jeff guessed shrewdly that he was an outdoor enthusiast
+himself. Jeff took the proffered chair and draped himself carelessly,
+but not too carelessly, upon it.
+
+"I represent Tarrant Enterprises," Jeff almost added the Ltd., but
+caught himself in time. "We may wish to expand."
+
+"Are you in sporting goods?"
+
+"Partly."
+
+"And you're considering Ackerton?"
+
+"Yes and no. That's what I hope to decide."
+
+"There's plenty of room, Mr. Tarrant."
+
+"But how much _good_ room?"
+
+Mr. Calworth laughed. "I'll tell you frankly. There are a variety of
+sporting goods stores, but Ryerson and Hapley split forty-five per cent
+of the trade and ninety per cent of the most desirable trade. However,
+there is no reason why an aggressive newcomer should not do very well."
+
+Jeff bent forward. "Is there a survey--Oh!" Purposely arranged to do so,
+the knife in his pocket had slipped and thrust the front of his new coat
+outward. Grinning his embarrassment, Jeff took the knife from his pocket
+and balanced it on his knee.
+
+Mr. Calworth's eyes followed his movements. "What do you have there?"
+
+"One of our specialties." Jeff gave him the knife. "A rather exceptional
+piece."
+
+Mr. Calworth slipped the knife from its sheath, and his eyes warmed as
+he examined it. He tested the blade with his thumb and shaved a couple
+of hairs from the back of his hand. When he turned to Jeff, he was
+interested.
+
+"You specialize in this sort of thing?"
+
+"We specialize in quality," Jeff said casually. "When we sell, we like
+to believe that the customer receives full value."
+
+"Do you get many articles as good?"
+
+Jeff shrugged. "Look at it. Can that be mass-produced?"
+
+"No," Mr. Calworth admitted. "What is your retail price on this knife?"
+
+"Twenty dollars," Jeff said firmly.
+
+"When do you intend to open your branch, Mr. Tarrant?"
+
+"I'm not sure we will open it. At least, we won't until after much more
+extensive research."
+
+"Would you care to make Ryerson your agent until you decide definitely?"
+
+Jeff deliberated. Then, "I hadn't thought of an agency."
+
+"It can't hurt you and it might make you some money. I'll continue to be
+frank. This is not something to offer an average customer because he
+simply cannot afford it. But there are sportsmen who can, and they come
+to Ryerson's. We'll take this, and any other quality merchandise you
+have, at a thirty per cent discount."
+
+Jeff thought of Barr's other knife, a few of the rest, the hatchets, the
+bridle reins, and made a swift calculation. Not all were equally
+valuable, but all were quality. If Ryerson paid him cash, he would more
+than make up for everything he had dispensed from his pack, his train
+fare, his expenses in Ackerton, and he would still have valuable goods.
+He said finally, "It should work to our mutual benefit."
+
+"May we expect some more soon?" Mr. Calworth asked.
+
+"I have a few in my sample case at the Kennard. You may have those as
+soon as I've time to deliver them and more in--shall we say three
+weeks?"
+
+"I'll send a clerk for what you have," Mr. Calworth promised, "and leave
+your check at the Kennard desk. Or would you prefer payment to your
+business headquarters?"
+
+Jeff held his breath inwardly, but answered quite casually, "It doesn't
+matter."
+
+"We'll leave it at the Kennard," Mr. Calworth decided. "What should the
+total be?"
+
+Jeff made a swift mental calculation. Barr Whitney's two knives for
+twenty dollars each, one almost as good for fifteen, two for ten and
+three for five dollars each. Pete's horsehide thong for four dollars and
+the three hatchets at five dollars each. That less thirty per cent. Jeff
+gave the total, "Seventy-six dollars and thirty cents."
+
+"Good!" Jeff knew that this keen man would examine each article and see
+if the price was suitable. "Are you going back to the Kennard?"
+
+"I must stop in for a few minutes."
+
+"May I send someone along to pick up the rest of the things?"
+
+"Certainly."
+
+"Fine! Don't forget us, Mr. Tarrant."
+
+Jeff walked back to the Kennard with one of Ryerson's clerks, gave him
+the merchandise intended for him in the lobby and got a receipt. Then he
+returned to his room, looked over the motley collection of knives that
+remained, and decided that he could sell or trade them to his advantage.
+But he wanted to take care of some of the other articles first and then
+give special attention to Granny's tapestries. He examined the pistol
+and the set of miniatures. Both were unknown quantities.
+
+About a foot long, the pistol had a metal barrel and ivory handles that
+had faded to a soft yellow. On each handle was an elaborate boar's head.
+Nat Stancer, who had traded Jeff the pistol for two screwdrivers, had
+kept it in good working order. Jeff did not know how much it was worth,
+but certainly it would be of use only to a hill man or to someone
+interested in antiques.
+
+The miniatures were small but well carved and proportioned, and all of
+them consisted of deer in various stages and poses. There were a doe and
+fawn, a running buck, a lone fawn, three grazing does, a resting buck
+and a doe rearing. They had cost Jeff a yard each of red, blue and
+yellow ribbon, but the woman who had traded them had not done the
+carving. The miniatures were also old and Jeff thought they had probably
+been fashioned by some invalid with nothing else to do.
+
+The pistol in one side pocket and the miniatures in another, Jeff set
+out to visit the antique dealers whose names and addresses he had
+listed. With no experience in antiques, he had only a vague idea as to
+how to go about selling his, so he took the dealers in alphabetical
+order and the first name on his list was Joseph Barnerson.
+
+He entered the store, a narrow building sandwiched between two larger
+ones, and looked curiously at the objects surrounding him. Jeff
+recognized few and wanted none, but looking at them strengthened his own
+conviction that, no matter what the article might be, it was desirable
+to somebody. Jeff turned toward the man who came to meet him. He had
+half expected somebody old and creaking, but this man was only about
+thirty and far from decrepit.
+
+"What may I do for you?"
+
+"I have an old pistol," Jeff said, "and maybe I'd sell it if I got the
+right price."
+
+The man smiled. "Mister, I sell antiques. I do not buy them."
+
+"You don't? Where do you get your stock then?"
+
+The smile became a grin. "I get my merchandise in my own way. Let me see
+your pistol."
+
+Jeff handed it over. The man examined it closely and finally said,
+"They're a drug on the market. I'll give you fifty cents."
+
+"In that case, wrap up six for me. I'll give you three dollars for 'em."
+
+"Where would I get six?"
+
+"You said they're a drug on the market."
+
+"So," the man admitted, "are most other antiques. Their value depends on
+how badly somebody wants them. Find somebody who wants the pistol and
+you'll get a fair price. To somebody who doesn't want it, it isn't worth
+a penny."
+
+"That makes sense."
+
+"What are you going to do now?"
+
+"Find somebody who wants it."
+
+But, though Jeff visited other dealers in antiques, none offered him
+more than a dollar for the pistol and nobody offered anything for the
+miniatures. It was very late when he returned to the Kennard.
+
+
+
+
+9. MIGHTY MISSION
+
+
+In his room at the Kennard, Jeff slept late. The past four days had been
+busy ones, and more than a little hectic, and he was tired.
+
+Mr. Calworth himself had brought back three of the cheapest knives.
+Admittedly they were worth five dollars each, but they were not
+merchandise that Ryerson could sell to its more exacting customers. If
+they were to pay premium prices, they demanded premium quality and
+Ryerson had better knives in stock that they sold for four dollars and a
+half. However, Mr. Calworth had softened their return by taking the
+fringed hunting shirt, the four pairs of moccasins and the polished
+hunting horn, and privately Jeff kicked himself for failing to offer
+them in the first place. They had brought thirty-eight dollars and
+Ryerson's would take all Jeff could supply if the quality remained as
+good.
+
+The pistol was also gone. Failing to sell it to anyone at the price he
+wanted to get, Jeff had carelessly left it on his dresser. The maid who
+tidied up the room had found it, decided that only a desperate outlaw
+would use such a thing and taken to it the clerk. Unable to resolve a
+situation so grave, and unwilling to take the responsibility, the clerk
+had consulted the manager and the manager had come to see Jeff.
+
+He apologized for his employees but thought that they had been well
+intentioned. He also recognized the pistol and it just so happened that
+his hobby was collecting antique fire arms. If Jeff cared to sell the
+pistol--Jeff did, for fifteen dollars.
+
+Jeff had tramped the streets, going from store to store and bartering.
+It had taken time. But bit by bit he had rid himself of almost
+everything he had brought to Ackerton and stocked his pack with items
+the hill people favored. None of it had cost Jeff any money and, in
+addition to all expenses, he had a clear profit of almost a hundred
+dollars. Under ordinary circumstances that would have been excellent.
+But these circumstances were not ordinary.
+
+He had been unable to find a buyer for either the miniatures or Granny
+Wilson's tapestries.
+
+Though it revolted his peddler's instincts to do so, he was willing to
+keep the miniatures if it took too much time to sell them. Not only did
+he refuse to do so with Granny's tapestries, but he was determined to
+settle for nothing less than the price he had assured Granny he could
+get. However, at least for the moment, he had reached a stalemate.
+
+Jeff had visited every store that seemed to have a wealthy trade. But
+the most expensive tapestry he had been shown cost twelve dollars and
+fifty cents and he hadn't even bothered to show Granny's.
+
+Jeff turned over, opened his eyes, sat up, yawned and occupied his mind
+with the problems of the day. The smile remained on his lips and his
+eyes retained their sparkle. The fact that he had had no success with
+the tapestries proved only that he had not yet offered them to the
+right person. They were a challenge, and it was a challenge to which he
+could rise. If he had permitted himself to be discouraged by every small
+setback, he would have stopped peddling long ago.
+
+He dressed, breakfasted and lingered over his plate to ponder the
+problem of the tapestries. Naturally one did not walk up to any
+stranger, ask him if he needed an expensive tapestry and proceed to sell
+him one. But there had to be a way because there was always a way. What
+way? Jeff tried his best to come up with an answer and couldn't do it.
+He still had no intention of leaving Ackerton until the tapestries were
+sold.
+
+Jeff fell back on the idea that first things must be first and he still
+had more to do in Ackerton. Maybe something would occur to him while he
+was doing it.
+
+He went to his room, referred to the directory, found the Jackson School
+for Boys, noted its address on a slip of paper and tucked one of
+Granny's tapestries, _The Last Supper_, under his arm before he left the
+hotel. Far from doing so only once, Opportunity was always knocking, and
+Jeff thought that many people missed her visit only because they were
+unprepared when she was all but hammering the door from its hinges.
+
+Jeff took a taxi across town. There were trolleys, but he hadn't
+acquainted himself with their schedules and, besides, taxis were faster.
+Now that time was a factor--he wanted to finish his business and return
+to Smithville--he could not afford to loiter. Jeff looked interestedly
+at the section of the city they were entering.
+
+Downtown Ackerton was crowded, with land so precious that there was no
+room for any space at all between buildings. Even the more modest
+residential areas had houses close together and a bit of yard in front
+and back. This must be where the wealthy element lived. The houses were
+large and set back from the streets. By Ackerton standards, the lawns
+were very spacious, though all of them together wouldn't have offered a
+hill dweller as much room as he needed. They came to an area where there
+were no residences at all but only a few business places, and Jeff had a
+fleeting glimpse of one that interested him. The display windows were
+clear, but drapes hung behind them and Jeff thought he saw a tapestry
+displayed. He memorized the name; the Murchison Galleries.
+
+The cabbie turned aside into a paved drive and halted his taxi beside a
+large building that had a distinct air of gentility. The taxi stopped
+and Jeff looked puzzled.
+
+"I wanted the Jackson School."
+
+"This is it."
+
+Jeff paid the driver, got out and looked around. Obviously a converted
+mansion, the Jackson School had none of the aloofness of the mansions
+they had passed. Surrounded by green lawns and flower gardens, there was
+the same strong sense of being welcome that was so evident on Granny
+Wilson's hill. Jeff whistled. Johnny Blazer, who had lived in a cabin
+behind Smithville, hadn't stinted himself when he chose a school for his
+son. Jeff knew a little misgiving. It was his intention to see Dan back
+here when the school term opened. But could he afford it?
+
+"Might as well find out," he murmured to himself.
+
+Inside the main entrance, a pleasant girl looked up from a desk upon
+which was a typewriter, an inkwell with a tray of pens and a few papers.
+She smiled at Jeff.
+
+"Yes?"
+
+"I'd like to see--" Jeff tried and could not think of the titles given
+officials in private schools for boys. He grinned. "I'd like to discuss
+a youngster who probably would be in the sixth grade."
+
+"Is he a student here?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"I'll call Mr. Nelson. Will you be seated, please?"
+
+She talked into a speaking tube. Jeff seated himself on a comfortable
+divan, and as soon as he saw him, he approved of the man who came in.
+About fifty years old, he was short and inclined to stoutness. He wore a
+gray suit that fitted well and had been chosen with care. His face was
+flushed and his hair iron-gray. But the blue eyes that set his face off
+were gentle, understanding and wise. Jeff rose to meet him.
+
+"Mr. Nelson?"
+
+"Yes sir." His voice was soft and pleasant.
+
+"My name's Jeff Tarrant," Jeff introduced himself. "I've come to talk to
+you about Dan Blazer."
+
+Alert interest flooded the headmaster's face. "Oh, yes. Do you know
+where he is?"
+
+"Yes. Let me tell you."
+
+Mr. Nelson listened attentively while Jeff spoke of finding Dan in
+Johnny Blazer's cabin. Jeff told of Dan's fierce anger, and his
+unshakable determination to seek out whoever had killed his father and
+extract full vengeance. He spoke of his own part in it and of the
+paper-loaded shotgun shells. Jeff did not try to conceal the fact that
+he was a peddler, nor did he hide Dan's interest in peddling. He told of
+his own hopes to find Johnny's murderer, let the law take its course,
+and of the effect he thought that would have on Dan.
+
+For a moment after he finished, Mr. Nelson did not speak. Then he asked,
+"Where is the boy now?"
+
+"I left him in very good hands. He will lack for nothing."
+
+Mr. Nelson looked troubled. "What do you intend to do with him, Mr.
+Tarrant?"
+
+"If I can afford it, I want to bring him back here when the fall term
+opens."
+
+Mr. Nelson smiled gently. "Mr. Tarrant, when you looked up the Jackson
+School for Boys, I'm sure you saw nothing about our being restricted to
+wealthy boys only. We do have students, and I'll admit that they are of
+exceptional ability, who pay whatever their parents or guardians can
+afford."
+
+"Where does Dan rate in that category?"
+
+"Very highly. Very highly I assure you. An outstanding youngster, but
+your revelations were not a complete surprise."
+
+"You expected him to run away?"
+
+"I took him to his father's funeral," Mr. Nelson said softly. "He said
+little, but I knew what he was thinking. After he ran away, I wrote to
+the authorities in Smithville, but I've had no reply."
+
+"That's my fault," Jeff admitted. "I told them that Dan was under my
+care and that I'd contact you personally."
+
+"You did? By any chance did you have ideas about looking us over?"
+
+"I had that idea. And I had no intention of letting him come back if you
+did not measure up."
+
+"Oh! We do meet your standards?"
+
+Jeff smiled. "You're good enough."
+
+"You might have brought Dan with you."
+
+"I might also have put him in a cage," Jeff said wryly. "And if I kept
+him there for one, three, or ten years, he'd get out some time. When he
+did, he'd still go back and hunt whoever shot his father."
+
+"How old are you, Mr. Tarrant?"
+
+"Going on nineteen."
+
+"Would it be impertinent to ask your background?"
+
+Jeff said quietly, "I lived in an orphanage until I was a little past
+fourteen. Then I ran away and worked at various jobs. Since quitting the
+last one, I've been a peddler."
+
+"I see. And what do you hope to gain by sending this youngster back to
+us?"
+
+Jeff still spoke quietly. "Sleep, easy sleep at night because I did not
+leave him alone when he had no one else to whom he could turn."
+
+"What does Dan think about it?"
+
+"I haven't told him," Jeff grinned, "but I have a pact with him. Dan has
+agreed to do anything I say."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"He likes peddling, and he has an idea that he's going to throw in with
+me. I told him he couldn't unless he minded me."
+
+"What are your plans for the future?"
+
+"I haven't decided," Jeff said seriously. "But I like Smithville, and if
+things continue to get as well as they've started out, in the next three
+or four years I'll be able to build up a good business right in
+Smithville."
+
+"I see. Do you have any ideas about Dan's 'throwing in' with you?"
+
+"Yes I do," Jeff confessed. "I like him and I'd like to have him;
+Tarrant and Blazer would be a mighty good team. But first he must have
+an education."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"So he'll know what I have never learned. I read as much as I can, but
+that's not as good as solid groundwork in school."
+
+"If you pay for his education, would you insist on his later services?"
+
+"No, he can choose his own way."
+
+"You're willing to be responsible for him on such a basis?"
+
+"Yes, sir. Wh--what is your tuition fee?"
+
+"Mr. Blazer paid--" Mr. Nelson named half the sum Jeff had expected.
+"What do you wish to have me do?"
+
+"I want only your written confirmation that Dan is in my care."
+
+"May I also say that you are to return him to us by September
+fourteenth?"
+
+"Certainly."
+
+"All right. Miss Jackson, may I borrow your desk?"
+
+The confirming letter in an inside pocket, Jeff strode happily out of
+the school. It had all been much simpler than he had thought possible,
+but Mr. Nelson was an understanding person. Jeff knew that he himself
+had undergone one of the most severe examinations of his life--and had
+passed it. Relieved about Dan, he could now give his whole attention to
+the business at hand.
+
+It was a long way to the Kennard, but Jeff did not want to hail or phone
+for a taxi as yet because the neighborhood, and the stores he had seen,
+interested him. He walked back the way he had come, saw the stores
+ahead, and halted in front of the Murchison Galleries.
+
+He wanted to assure himself that he had seen what he thought he had
+seen, and it was there. In the window, somehow accentuated by the very
+simplicity of its surroundings, was a tapestry that depicted a bowl of
+crocuses in bloom. Though he did not know a great deal about tapestries,
+Jeff realized that this was a very fine one. But mentally he compared it
+to Granny's, and decided that hers was better. Jeff entered the
+galleries.
+
+Though only fair-sized, the arrangement of the interior loaned an
+illusion of spaciousness and its air was one of quiet refinement. There
+were paintings on the walls and others on easels, and without examining
+them too closely, Jeff knew that the way they were placed added much to
+their effectiveness. He turned to meet the man coming toward him and was
+greeted with a pleasant, "Good morning."
+
+He said it as though he were welcoming a guest into his house, and Jeff
+responded in kind. "Good morning. I think you may save my life!"
+
+"Indeed?" The man arched his brows. "You hardly seem on the verge of
+expiring."
+
+"I really am, though. You do know something about tapestries?"
+
+"A bit." The man smiled indulgently. "What do you wish?"
+
+Jeff unrolled Granny's _The Last Supper_ and held it up for inspection.
+"I _must_ find the exact duplicate of this."
+
+"May I see it?"
+
+The man took the tapestry, felt its texture, turned it over and examined
+it at arm's length. His eyes hardened ever so slightly. Lowering the
+tapestry, he wrinkled his brow in thought.
+
+"Perhaps we may help you, Mr.--"
+
+"Tarrant," Jeff supplied. "Jeffrey Tarrant."
+
+"I'm Raold Murchison. You wish us to find a duplicate of this?"
+
+"If you can," Jeff wanted twenty-five dollars but decided he might as
+well try for more. "It's worth a hundred dollars."
+
+"How soon must you have it, Mr. Tarrant?"
+
+"Tomorrow noon's the deadline," Jeff said ruefully. "Just think! I've
+been in Ackerton almost a week before I found you."
+
+"Where are you staying?"
+
+"The Kennard. Room sixteen."
+
+"May we retain this until tomorrow at noon?"
+
+"Of course, naturally you will--"
+
+"Naturally. I would not ask you to leave it without a receipt. Will you
+be at the Kennard at noon?"
+
+"I'll make it a point to be there."
+
+"I shall phone you then, Mr. Tarrant, and advise you concerning our
+success or failure."
+
+He gave Jeff a receipt and noted his name and room number. Jeff left the
+galleries, knowing that he had taken a gamble. But who hoped to win had
+to take chances. With nothing else to do, he gave the rest of the day
+and most of the next morning to wandering about Ackerton. He returned to
+his room at twenty to twelve, and exactly twenty minutes later his phone
+rang.
+
+"Mr. Tarrant," it was the desk clerk, "there's a Mr. Murchison here to
+see you."
+
+"Send him in."
+
+Jeff opened the door for Raold Murchison, and no matter where he stood,
+he would still be master of the Murchison Galleries.
+
+"I came in person, Mr. Tarrant, because that seemed best."
+
+"Indeed?"
+
+"Yes, we succeeded in locating the exact duplicate of your tapestry."
+
+Jeff gave thanks for his ability to wear a poker face when such was in
+order. If the Murchison Galleries had located the twin of Granny's _The
+Last Supper_, Granny had made it. And Raold Murchison wouldn't even know
+how to talk to her.
+
+Murchison smiled tentatively. "In the process of finding the duplicate,
+we also found a customer who is enamoured of the pair."
+
+"Those things happen."
+
+"I assume that you have a customer who will pay you at least two hundred
+dollars?"
+
+Jeff made no comment. It was Murchison's privilege to assume anything he
+wished. The art dealer continued, "I am prepared to offer you a hundred
+and twenty-five dollars for yours."
+
+Jeff's heart leaped but his face revealed nothing. Obviously, somewhere
+among his wealthy neighbors, Raold Murchison, just as Jeff had hoped,
+had known the exact person who would appreciate such a tapestry.
+Naturally, he would sell it for more than the price offered Jeff, but he
+was entitled to a profit, too. Hiding his elation, Jeff frowned.
+
+"It isn't the price I thought I'd get."
+
+"But you cannot sell yours without a duplicate?"
+
+Jeff looked away without answering. Murchison waited expectantly.
+Finally Jeff looked back. "Well, all right," he agreed.
+
+"How about taking another tapestry?" Jeff asked.
+
+"Oh, you have another?"
+
+Jeff showed him _The Fall of Satan_. Raold Murchison examined it and
+turned to Jeff.
+
+"A fair enough piece and I'll speculate. Shall we say fifty dollars?"
+
+"Let's say seventy-five?"
+
+"I'm taking a chance but--Will you accept my personal check?"
+
+"Certainly."
+
+Raold Murchison wrote a check and waved it in the air until it dried.
+"If you should be in Ackerton again, Mr. Tarrant, the Murchison
+Galleries are ever ready to be of service."
+
+He left and Jeff leaped high to click his heels in the air. He had hoped
+to get fifty dollars for both tapestries. He had two hundred and a
+strong hint that more tapestries would be welcome. He fairly danced down
+to the desk.
+
+"When is the next train for Delview?" he asked.
+
+The clerk consulted a time table. "Five-three."
+
+"Thanks."
+
+Jeff ran out on the street and hailed a taxi.
+
+"The nearest place where I can buy a kitten," he directed, "and stay
+with me. I want you all afternoon."
+
+"Sure, Bub."
+
+Half past four, and five pet shops later, Jeff found what he wanted. Of
+three white Angora kittens in the window, one was almost the twin of
+Granny's departed pet. It watched Jeff shyly, and arched its back
+against his hand. Then it promptly proceeded to bite his finger. Plainly
+it was a kitten with character.
+
+"I want it!" Jeff told the astonished proprietor. "Put it in a cage or
+something because it's going on the train!"
+
+Lifted into a second-hand bird cage, the kitten spat its indignation and
+fell to swiping at shadows with a silky paw. Jeff laid five dollars, the
+requested price, on the counter and thrust his hand into the pocket
+where the miniatures lay.
+
+"Present for you," he said, scattering them across the counter. He
+rushed to the cab. "Hotel Kennard and don't spare the gasoline. I have
+to be at the station by five-two!"
+
+He made it with a whole minute to spare.
+
+
+
+
+10. BOMBSHELL
+
+
+Dan Blazer, going up the trail toward Granny Wilson's with the shotgun
+in one hand and Pal's leash in the other, was a little angry and more
+than a little resentful. Though Jeff had said that Dan was going to take
+care of Granny, the boy had convinced himself that he was actually to be
+taken care of. He resented it because he and Jeff had a pact--Dan had
+promised to do anything Jeff said--but Jeff seemed to have forgotten. If
+he wanted to stay at Granny's, he had only to say so and nothing else
+was necessary. Dan turned to pull the balky Pal along.
+
+"Come on!" he ordered. "Come on, Pal! Jeff's going to Ackerton and he
+doesn't want either you or me with him!"
+
+Pal, who had wanted to go with Jeff but who was beginning to get the
+idea that he was not supposed to, stopped straining back on the leash.
+He was not wholly abandoned, as he had been when Johnny went away, and
+that was a comfort.
+
+Dan brightened a little. Jeff had not only let him have the shotgun and
+the six shells but had insisted that he take them. The very fact that
+Jeff had trusted him with both made him feel more like a man and less
+like a little boy. He gripped the shotgun tightly. Some day he would
+look down the rib that separated its two barrels and see the man who
+had shot his father. Dan's eyes flashed, then softened. That day must
+not be now; he had promised Jeff that he wouldn't shoot anybody and Jeff
+was very smart. Dan skipped along.
+
+Save for the one dark cloud, the future glowed with bright promise. Jeff
+had promised to make a peddler of him and that would be the ideal life.
+Dan thought of it during his waking moments and dreamed of it in his
+sleep. All he had to do in order to make his dreams come true was obey
+Jeff, and that was a small price to pay for the reward it offered. Jeff
+was all-wise, all-good, all-powerful, and maybe he _had_ really sent Dan
+to take care of Granny.
+
+When Granny's green hill came in sight, Dan's spirits were almost
+completely lifted. The fact that he wished so desperately to take a
+man's part helped convince him that he was taking one, and he forgot his
+resentment to greet Granny with a smile.
+
+"Good morning, Granny."
+
+"Dan! My land! Where's Jeff?"
+
+"Gone to Ackerton and he'll be gone for some time. He--" Dan hesitated.
+"He sent me and Pal up to look after you while he's away."
+
+Granny reacted precisely as Jeff had thought she would. "Now that was a
+kindly thought! I really miss a man around the house. Come in and let me
+set you a dish of cookies."
+
+Granny's wholehearted acceptance of himself and his mission removed most
+of the lingering suspicion Dan retained that Granny was really supposed
+to take care of him. He swelled with newfound importance and felt a
+profound gratitude toward Jeff for sending him on a man's job. The
+cookies Granny set before him were tangible proof that taking care of
+her would not be without its rewards. With the appetite of a dragon and
+the digestion of a goat, and despite his substantial breakfast, Dan
+finished all the cookies and wished there were more. But it would hardly
+be polite to ask.
+
+"I can stay until Jeff gets back, Granny," he said. "You won't have to
+worry while I'm here."
+
+"I won't," she asserted. "I just won't fret even one particle. It's such
+a comfort to have you. What's Jeff doing in Ackerton?"
+
+"Trading. We've been working pretty hard and now he has to trade
+everything we got." Dan thought wistfully of Jeff, who in the boy's mind
+was nine feet tall and possessed all the capacities of a wizard. "He'll
+do all right, too. Those city people, they're not near as smart as
+Jeff."
+
+"They couldn't be," Granny agreed solemnly. "That Jeff, he's man all
+through."
+
+"We're partners," Dan said. "Partners in everything. Any of those
+Whitneys been bothering you, Granny?"
+
+"Not of late." Granny looked a bit puzzled. "Why do you ask about the
+Whitneys?"
+
+"Because," Dan said fiercely, "one of them shot my pop and soon's Jeff
+and me find out which one, we're going to shoot him!"
+
+"My land! How you talk!"
+
+Dan felt suddenly that he was a little boy again, and justly censured by
+an adult for lack of wisdom. He all but blushed. "We're not going to do
+it right away."
+
+"That's nice," Granny said.
+
+"Now I have to take care of you. What needs taking care of first?"
+
+"You might go see that no pesky thing's troublin' my sheep."
+
+Pal at his heels, Dan raced down to where the fat sheep were at their
+endless task of cropping grass. They looked at him with mildly surprised
+eyes and continued to crop. Dan circled the sheep three times, petted
+the gentle creatures, and was more than a little disappointed because
+there seemed to be no immediate need of his protective services. But he
+did not lose hope, there was still a lot of Granny's hill left.
+
+Molly, Granny's placid old cow, and Ephraim, Granny's mule, were as well
+off as the sheep. Dan sighed, then became a little excited when four
+blackbirds winged out of the trees to scratch in Granny's garden. He
+stalked them carefully. But before he could come near enough, Pal
+charged the blackbirds and sent them in jittery flight back to the
+trees.
+
+Dan circled the foot of the hill, looking hard for something from which
+Granny should be protected. But all he found was a cottontail rabbit
+that confounded the fleet Pal by ducking into a burrow three inches in
+front of his nose. Dan wandered back to Granny's house just in time for
+lunch.
+
+That, consisting of bread much softer and better than any Abel Tarkman
+sold, butter, delicately-spiced strawberry preserves, goblets of milk,
+and a crisp apple turnover smothered in cream, was better than any Dan
+had eaten, even at the Jackson School for Boys.
+
+Suddenly homesick, he thought of the school and all it had meant to him,
+then put the thought behind him. He had left the school because he was
+driven by a mission that would not let him rest and would never permit
+him to have peace until it was fulfilled. Until it was, he must think
+of nothing else; he shouldn't even think seriously of going peddling
+with Jeff but he couldn't help that. Then his faith restored itself.
+Jeff was all-wise and all-powerful. Jeff had promised him that justice
+would be done. Dan was a bit ashamed of his doubts.... Unable to swallow
+another bite, he pushed his plate back and lingered over it. Granny, who
+hadn't had a hungry boy to satisfy in far too long, was shaping an apple
+pie at the table and Dan's eyes lingered on her. The big wood stove cast
+a pleasant glow into the room, and tantalizing odors promised much to
+come. Dan licked his lips, the faint beginning of fresh hunger rising on
+the very heels of the meal he had just eaten.
+
+Dan wrinkled his brows. He had been sent to look after Granny, and look
+after her he would. But she didn't seem to need any looking-after right
+now and the forest surrounding the hill was an inviting place. He asked,
+"Is everything all right, Granny?"
+
+"Land! It's right as rain since you got here. Haven't felt this safe in
+a dog's age."
+
+"Would you still feel safe if Pal and me went down in the woods this
+afternoon?"
+
+"Can you beat that? I was just about to ask you if you would! What you
+goin' to do there, Dan?"
+
+"Look around and make sure nothing's lurking too near."
+
+"Good! Good! If you can spare the time, you might bring a few trout for
+us to sup on."
+
+"Oh, boy!"
+
+Dan whooped from his chair. With Pal bustling at his heels, he ran out
+to the garden. He loved to fish, his father had taught him how to catch
+trout, and Granny's accustomed tackle, a hook and line tied to a willow
+pole, hung over the door. In the spring's damp overflow Dan grubbed
+until he had filled his pocket with fat worms. Then he snatched the pole
+from over the doorway and raced down to the little stream that from the
+hilltop wound like a silver ribbon through the forest.
+
+He strung a worm on his hook, crawled cautiously up to a pool and
+dropped the worm gently, watching with bated breath the ripples that
+spread. A trout surged from the depths, struck viciously, and Dan drew
+his wriggling catch in. Deftly he slipped it onto a willow stringer.
+
+Stringer in one hand, pole in the other, he sneaked up to another pool
+and caught another trout. Mindful of the pies Granny was making, he
+decided that he needed no more than two trout for himself because his
+appetite must be saved for more important things. Granny might eat
+three. Dan had four trout on his stringer when Pal growled.
+
+Hackles raised, ears alert, nose questing, he peered up-stream. Dan
+stopped, not knowing what was coming but sure that Pal wouldn't growl
+for no reason. Dragging the dog with him, the boy slipped into the brush
+and a moment later Barr Whitney appeared.
+
+He was fishing, too, but instead of a willow stringer he carried a
+buckskin creel into which he slipped trout as he caught them. Dan held
+his breath and at the same time did his best to control his rising rage.
+He wished mightily that he had brought the shotgun, but so far there had
+been no indication that he would need it. Watching Barr come nearer, he
+made himself very small.
+
+If he did not move, maybe Barr wouldn't see him. But when the man came
+opposite Dan, he swerved and splashed across the creek. Trousers
+dripping, seeming like some wet monster that emerged from the water, he
+had only a glance for the growling Pal. But he thrust a hand inside his
+shirt and the boy knew that he had a weapon of some sort concealed
+there. Dan quieted the growling Pal by gently stroking him.
+
+"What be ye doin' here, boy?"
+
+Dan glared. "I don't talk to no blamed Whitneys!"
+
+Barr's eyes clouded. "Mind your tongue, boy."
+
+"I won't mind it! But one of you Whitneys will wish you'd minded
+yourselves when Jeff and me find out who killed my pop!"
+
+"We will?"
+
+"Yes, you will! And me and Jeff are on the track."
+
+"You be?"
+
+Jeff's image came to stand beside Dan, so that he no longer felt small,
+alone and so terribly frightened. With his friend beside him, he could
+do anything. "Ha!" he exploded. "You think Jeff's a peddler, but he's
+not." Dan cast desperately for an apt description and thought of the
+most awesome image his mind could conjure up. "He's a policeman. A real
+policeman. Now he's gone into Ackerton for more policemen, and soon's he
+gets some, they'll get every one of you darned Whitneys. You wait!
+You'll be sorry, Jeff said so!"
+
+"So-o," Barr Whitney purred. "So-o."
+
+"Aren't you--Aren't you going to do anything to me?"
+
+"Can't think of ary I'd do, 'cept mebbe string you on the hook an' use
+you for bait."
+
+No longer interested in fishing, Barr Whitney splashed back across the
+creek and disappeared in the forest. Immensely gratified, Dan watched
+him go.
+
+He'd told those Whitneys.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Except that the fluffy kitten did not like the bird cage and expressed
+his dislike with frequent far-carrying "_miaouws_" that attracted the
+attention of everyone else in the day coach, Jeff's trip from Ackerton
+to Delview was almost routine. It was not entirely so because twice the
+conductor threatened either to take the kitten into the baggage car or
+throw Jeff and his luggage off the train. Both times a chorus of dissent
+rose from the six other passengers in the car. The train did not make as
+many stops as the one from Delview to Ackerton had, but it was equally
+slow and the kitten provided diversion.
+
+When they finally reached Delview, the kitten stood erect and glared at
+everything in sight. Obviously he was a creature of great character and
+he would fit in perfectly on Granny's hill.
+
+Pack on his back and the caged kitten dangling from his right hand, Jeff
+strode down Delview's main street. He had decided, as he usually did, to
+guide himself by whatever circumstances seemed to require. If he felt
+too tired, he would put up at one of Delview's two hotels overnight. But
+the events of the day, particularly his astounding success with Granny's
+tapestries, had roused him to a pitch of enthusiasm so high that he was
+not at all tired. The star-lighted night was ideal for walking and Jeff
+made up his mind to go right through to Smithville. He should get there
+some time in the early morning hours. He was anxious to see Dan again
+and to watch Granny's eyes when he told her what he had done with her
+tapestries.
+
+He was hungry, but the first café he entered was one of Delview's
+exclusive eating places and the late diners who still lingered there
+stared in horror at the caged kitten. A waiter asked him to leave, and
+Jeff did not feel like arguing the point. The second café, not so
+pretentious and presided over by a fat man with a completely bald head
+and a clean apron, was less particular. Jeff laid his pack down, put the
+cage on a chair and ordered,
+
+"Steak, fried potatoes and coffee. Heavy on all three and a saucer of
+milk for the kitten."
+
+"Sure, bud, sure."
+
+The fat man poked a pudgy finger at the kitten, who crouched in the cage
+and evidently imagined himself unseen. He sprang suddenly, and when he
+leaped against the cage's door, it burst open. The kitten slithered
+through, jumped to the table, gave everything in the restaurant a
+haughty look, scrambled to Jeff's shoulder and began to purr
+contentedly.
+
+"Cute lil' feller!" the fat man said admiringly. "Why do you keep him
+caged?"
+
+Jeff saw opportunity. The cage had been only a means for getting the
+kitten from Ackerton to Granny's. But if the kitten preferred Jeff's
+shoulder, he was welcome to ride there. The fat man was obviously
+interested in the cage.
+
+"Usually I don't," Jeff admitted. "I got the cage to bring him through
+from Ackerton." He added, as though it were an afterthought, "Darn'
+thing cost me two dollars."
+
+"_Hmm._ Need the cage any more?"
+
+"I don't know."
+
+"My wife's been lookin' for such. She keeps birds. What'll you take for
+it?"
+
+Jeff forsook bargaining. His pack was full, and since the kitten seemed
+happy on his shoulder, he did not want to carry the cage to Smithville.
+
+"Swap for the dinner."
+
+"It's a swap."
+
+The fat man, who apparently was also the cook, went into the kitchen. He
+came back with a platter containing a huge steak and an ample supply of
+potatoes. He also had a mug of coffee that held at least a pint. The
+kitten scrambled from Jeff's shoulder to the table top, turned up his
+nose at the saucer of milk placed before him, and looked appealingly at
+Jeff's steak.
+
+Jeff grinned. This kitten knew what he wanted and was willing to try for
+it. Jeff fed him a small piece of steak, then another, and a third. Only
+when Jeff firmly refused to give him any more did he turn and lap up
+every bit of the milk. When it was time to go, he climbed back on Jeff's
+shoulder and pressed his naked nose and pads against his friend's neck,
+where they would stay warm.
+
+Jeff walked swiftly through the cool night, stopping every hour or so to
+rest. He enjoyed every second of it.
+
+Dawn was faint in the sky when they came to Smithville, and rising and
+stretching on Jeff's shoulder, the kitten greeted it with a hearty
+_miaouw_.
+
+"Who's there?" It was the constable, Bill Ellis.
+
+"Jeff Tarrant," Jeff called.
+
+"I've been waiting for you."
+
+Even though the constable was only half-seen, there was about him a
+great hesitation that was mingled with a certain furtiveness as he came
+through the darkness. Jeff waited, more than a little surprised.
+
+Bill Ellis came nearer and whispered, "Where you been?"
+
+"Why--Ackerton."
+
+The kitten miaouwed again and Bill Ellis took a backward step. "What's
+that?"
+
+"Just a kitten that I'm bringing to Granny Wilson."
+
+There was vast urgency in Bill Ellis' voice as he said, "Don't go there.
+Turn around and get out of the hills. Don't come back."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"Never mind why. Just go."
+
+"I'm going to Granny's."
+
+Bill Ellis' shrug was more sensed than seen. "You got a gun?"
+
+"Why--no."
+
+"Where is it?"
+
+"At Granny's. By the way, here's the letter from the school."
+
+He took the letter from an inside pocket and handed it over. Bill Ellis
+accepted it, but it seemed unimportant.
+
+"If you won't run," he said, "get to Granny's and get your gun while
+darkness lasts. Don't go anywhere again without it."
+
+"But--"
+
+"Do as I say and--" there was a definite note of fear in Bill Ellis'
+voice--"don't tell anybody I told you."
+
+He turned and walked swiftly away, as though the peddler had suddenly
+become an outcast or tainted being with whom he must not have further
+contact. Jeff stood a moment, completely bewildered. Why this unexpected
+warning? What had come into the hills since he'd left for Ackerton? Why
+was Bill Ellis afraid?
+
+Jeff called softly, "Bill."
+
+The constable waited. Jeff trotted to him.
+
+"Tell me some more."
+
+"I've told you enough. Don't go out unless you can protect yourself. I
+can do nothing for you, and the best thing you can do is run."
+
+"Nobody would gun down an unarmed man."
+
+"Don't be a fool."
+
+"I see. Bill, did Johnny Blazer have a gun when he was found?"
+
+"No. Leave me now. It's growing lighter."
+
+Jeff resumed his journey up the road, and the kitten stretched all four
+paws against his neck. Shaking his head uncertainly, he did not turn
+aside when he came to Johnny Blazer's cabin. Bill Ellis had told him to
+get to Granny's and arm himself--before daylight. He'd better do it.
+
+The sun was just rising when Jeff came to Granny's green hill, and he
+heard Pal's happy roar of welcome. He quickened his steps, and even on
+this hill of peace he had an uncomfortable feeling that he was watched
+by furtive eyes. Johnny Blazer had been shot down in cold blood.
+
+At the door, he composed himself. Granny and Dan must not be worried.
+When he entered the cabin, an ecstatic Pal flung himself forward and
+Jeff tickled the big dog's ears. He turned to meet Granny, who always
+rose with the sun.
+
+"Hiya, Granny!" He plucked the kitten from his shoulder. "I brought you
+a present!"
+
+"Oh, the love!"
+
+Granny cuddled the kitten against her cheek. Knowing experienced hands
+and instantly liking Granny almost as much as she loved him, the kitten
+licked her cheek with a pink tongue and fell to purring. Rubbing sleepy
+eyes, pajama-clad Dan came from his bedroom.
+
+"Jeff!"
+
+"Hi, Dan!"
+
+"My land!" Granny's eyes sparkled like sunshine on dewdrops. "I'll make
+some breakfast right away."
+
+"What'd you see in Ackerton?" Dan asked eagerly. "What'd you see in
+Ackerton, Jeff."
+
+"Hang on to your horses!" Jeff laughed. "I'll tell you in good time.
+Granny, I sold your tapestries."
+
+"Did you now?"
+
+"Couldn't get what they're worth, though," Jeff said sadly.
+
+"Land! Had no idea they were worth anything."
+
+"I got two hundred dollars."
+
+"Jeff!" Granny almost dropped the kitten.
+
+"I did, Granny. Four times as much as I told you I'd get."
+
+"But--"
+
+"And there's a place for more."
+
+Granny stroked the kitten and there was a look of near sadness in her
+eyes. After a moment she said gently, "It seems almost sinful, that much
+for aught so small."
+
+"It's not," Jeff assured her. "The man who bought them from me will make
+a profit, too."
+
+"He can do that and welcome he is. Land! Who would have thought it? Two
+hundred dollars! Half would do me for a year."
+
+"All would do you for two years."
+
+Granny shook her head. "No, Jeff. For sixty-four years I've abided here
+and never had a hundred dollars all at once. Never missed it, either,
+'cept when Enos was sick. I might have paid a doctor for him. If you
+see fit to give me half, I'll take it should I have need of aught that
+is not at my hand. Half is yours."
+
+Jeff hesitated. He worked for profit, but somehow it hadn't seemed right
+to make any on Granny. Still, as far as she was concerned, a hundred
+dollars was a vast sum and obviously she had gone as far as she intended
+to go.
+
+Granny laughed. "We'll leave it that way and I'll have more ta--Oh,
+hang! I keep forgettin' the name. More cloths the next time you go. It
+seems a mort of pay for what pleasures me so dear. Now I'll rouse up
+some eatables."
+
+She baked delicious pancakes, fried a heaping platter of sausage and put
+them on the table. Granny and Dan listened intently, prompting him if he
+omitted the smallest detail, as Jeff told everything about his trip to
+Ackerton.
+
+When he had finished, he looked pointedly at Dan, declaring, "And
+finally, I arranged for you to go back to school in September."
+
+"I'm not going," Dan said firmly.
+
+"You must go," Jeff urged. "Dan, you and I can build up a good business
+here, but unless we always want to carry peddlers' packs, one of us has
+to know business methods. The place to learn them is in school."
+
+"I want to carry a pack."
+
+"You'll have your chance; it isn't going to work that fast. Think of ten
+or maybe even fifteen years from now. Imagine a trading post in
+Smithville and a store in Ackerton with BLAZER AND TARRANT ENTERPRISES
+in gold letters a foot high across both of 'em." Jeff grinned. "We
+could cut out the Ltd. If we were partners, we wouldn't be limited any
+more."
+
+Dan said stubbornly, "I can't go."
+
+"Could you if--if you were satisfied about your pop?"
+
+Dan hesitated. "You promise, Jeff?"
+
+"I promise."
+
+"Before I go?"
+
+"Before you go."
+
+"Then," Dan sighed, "I reckon I can go back."
+
+"Good," Jeff said quickly. "Now I want you to stay here and keep Pal
+with you. I'm going away for a little while."
+
+"Where you going, Jeff?"
+
+"Into Smithville and I'm taking the shotgun."
+
+"I'm going with you."
+
+"Not this time. I have to go alone."
+
+"But--"
+
+"It's wisdom he speaks," Granny said softly. "You bide here, Dan."
+
+"Well--When you coming back, Jeff?"
+
+"I don't know exactly. But I will be back."
+
+"You take a care."
+
+"Now don't be fretting about me." Jeff grinned.
+
+But he was not grinning when, with the shotgun in his right hand and the
+paper-loaded shells in his pocket, he left Granny's house and hit the
+trail back to Smithville. The time for a showdown was here.
+
+Jeff planned as he walked. He had always known that he would stop
+wandering and settle down when and if he found a place he liked well
+enough, and he liked these hills. Though he'd never been able to imagine
+himself confined to any one small spot, the hills were not small. They
+presented a challenge he liked. The fact that he'd have to fight for his
+right to be here, and that there were problems to be solved, was not
+extraordinary. He'd always had to fight and there'd always been
+problems.
+
+Jeff knew suddenly what he had never known before, his whole life had
+been almost desperately lonely. He hadn't thought of it in such a light
+because there had been no fair basis for comparison. Never having been
+anything except lonely, he could not know what it was to be otherwise.
+Now he had Dan, Granny, Pal, and a genuine love for all three. They were
+his, and having them was good.
+
+He had no illusions about becoming very rich, for he saw no great wealth
+in the offing. There would be a comfortable living, with always enough
+variety so that there would be continual zest. The hill people needed
+what the outside world could offer, but without someone to act as
+intermediary, they had almost no chance of getting it. Those of the
+outside world delighted in the products of the hills, and they had the
+money to pay for them. Nobody would be cheated.
+
+Jeff put these thoughts behind him. First things must always be first,
+and before he did anything else he had to meet, and fight, whoever was
+gunning for him. For Dan's sake, and his own conscience, he must bring
+to justice whoever had shot Johnny Blazer. He could do neither with
+words, for it had come to guns. But before he could use the shotgun
+effectively, he had to have live ammunition for it. He wished mightily
+that he had left at least one shell loaded.
+
+Wanting only to see if anything had been disturbed there, Jeff swung
+aside when he came to Johnny Blazer's cabin. He entered.
+
+Inside, each man armed with a rifle that swung at once to cover Jeff,
+were Pete, Barr, Yancey, Grant and Dabb Whitney.
+
+
+
+
+11. THE TALKING TREE
+
+
+They stood along the wall, unkempt and untidy, but there was something
+about them that was as cold and deadly as the whine of a bullet or the
+fangs of a viper. They were lean as weasels, and as fast. The rifles
+they held, from the repeating carbines belonging to Barr, Yancey, Dabb
+and Grant, to Pete's single-shot fifty caliber, seemed a part of them
+and they had grown up with those rifles. These were men who had no shots
+to waste and who therefore must make every one count. They would be
+shamed if they shot a turkey or grouse anywhere except through the head
+and they had only raucous jeers for whoever was unable to shoot as well.
+
+"Turn 'raound!" Pete ordered gruffly.
+
+"Not here ya fool!" Barr countermanded the order. "A fair half of
+Smithville'll come a'racin'."
+
+Pete sneered. "Let 'em come. They won't find us."
+
+"No!" Obviously Barr was in command. "This goes my way."
+
+Jeff stood, cold and shaken and knowing that, when he walked into the
+cabin, he had walked into his own death. These must be the men about
+whom Bill Ellis had warned him. But why should the Whitneys want to kill
+him? Summoning all his past experience with Tarrant Enterprises, Ltd.,
+which had taught him to try to appear outwardly cool in the hottest of
+spots, Jeff did his best to seem not only calm but to take full command
+of the situation.
+
+"You're in my cabin," he said quietly.
+
+"We knaow," Pete's eyes were venom-laden, "but you won't be needin' it
+fer long."
+
+The rest of the Whitneys said nothing. Jeff studied them and tried, by
+reading their faces, to determine his next act.
+
+Pete, so poisoned with hatred that it distorted his face, offered
+nothing. Yancey, Dabb and Grant might be swayed if it were not for Barr.
+Dominating the rest, and with them, at the same time he stood apart from
+them. He was strong, Pete was weak--and for that very reason extremely
+dangerous. The rest needed leadership. But while there was no lust in
+Barr's eyes, neither was there any mercy. Jeff looked steadily at him
+and kept his voice quiet.
+
+"What's it about?"
+
+"We liked ya, peddler." Barr's voice was very grave. "We liked ya an'
+you traded fair with your goods. But there's no bit of room in these
+hills for a policeman."
+
+"Policeman!" Jeff exploded.
+
+"We know," Barr seemed downcast, as though someone he trusted had
+betrayed him. "The boy told us."
+
+"Told you what?"
+
+"All--an' 'twill serve ya naught to plead or ask pardon. If you're a
+man, be one now."
+
+Jeff's head whirled. Apparently, while he was in Ackerton, one or more
+of the Whitneys had met Dan and the boy had spun some fantastic tale.
+Jeff looked over his captors again and saw only unyielding
+determination. He took a deep breath before he spoke.
+
+"What did Dan tell you?"
+
+"Enough," Barr grunted. "We had the truth from a babe's mouth."
+
+"But--"
+
+Dabb interrupted. "What made ye set your mind on the thought that a
+Whitney kil't Blazer?"
+
+"Didn't you?"
+
+"We do not pry into killin's," Barr said. "You erred when you did."
+
+Another piece fitted into the puzzle. Evidently Dan had told whoever it
+was he had met that he and Jeff were out to avenge Johnny, and doubtless
+he'd said that Jeff was an officer. Jeff pondered Dabb's question and
+Barr's comment. It was possible, even probable, that only his killer
+knew who had shot Johnny. Whoever was guilty would be a fool if he was
+anything except close-mouthed about it.
+
+"Leave us shoot him," Pete said nasally. "'Twill serve naught to do
+elsewise."
+
+"I said we'd wait," Barr growled.
+
+Jeff breathed a little easier. The Whitneys intended to shoot him, but
+not immediately and he wondered what they were waiting for and why.
+Perhaps, as Barr had mentioned, they were too close to Smithville, and
+in order to remain unseen, perhaps they would wait until night to take
+him out. Maybe there were other reasons, but evidently he had a little
+time. Jeff took a shot in the dark.
+
+"I'll be missed in Ackerton."
+
+"We know," Barr muttered. "The boy said it all."
+
+Jeff moistened dry lips with his tongue. His chance shot had ricocheted;
+whatever story Dan had concocted tied in with Jeff's trip to Ackerton.
+He had to think his way out of this.
+
+"People will be looking for me."
+
+"They won't find you," Barr promised. "But could be they'll find us."
+
+Jeff said pointedly, "Five against one?"
+
+"You had a shotgun when you come in."
+
+"And if I'd known who was waiting, I'd have come shooting. But you can
+all cheer up. Maybe those who look for me won't expect to need guns, and
+you can take them just like you did me. Maybe they won't even have guns.
+Then you can shoot them down from ambush, _like you did Johnny Blazer_!"
+
+Six pairs of eyes regarded him, and only Pete's remained unchanged. The
+rest shifted from deliberate purposefulness to cold fury, and Barr's
+face turned white. His lips tautened, and he bit his words off and spat
+them at Jeff.
+
+"Ye lie!"
+
+"I do not lie!"
+
+Swiftly Barr closed the distance between them. His left hand snaked
+forward and his open palm struck Jeff's cheek. It was not a blow that a
+man might offer a worthy antagonist, but an insulting slap. Barr's eyes
+were glowing coals.
+
+"Ye lie, policeman! Nary a man in the hills shot Blazer thataway!"
+
+Jeff snarled back, "I don't lie and I can prove it!"
+
+His face still white, Barr stepped back. He jerked his rifle to
+shooting position and lowered it reluctantly. Tense as stretched
+buckskin, he studied Jeff and snapped, "Say those words ag'in!"
+
+"Johnny Blazer not only had no gun when he was shot, but whoever shot
+him was hiding when he did it!" Jeff pronounced each word very slowly
+and very clearly, as though he were rehearsing a careful speech.
+
+"How d'ye know he lacked aught to shoot back?"
+
+"I--" Jeff thought of Bill Ellis and caught himself in time. "I saw
+someone who found him on my Ackerton trip. Johnny had no gun when they
+picked him up."
+
+"Shut up!" Barr whirled furiously on his cousin who had started to
+speak. He said, more to himself than to anyone else, "Blazer's guns
+_was_ found in his cabin."
+
+Jeff laughed tauntingly. "You hillbillies are brave men! Now all you
+have to do is admit that whoever shot Johnny was hiding in the brush."
+
+Still furious, Barr regarded him steadily. "How do ya know that?"
+
+"All I had to do was look."
+
+"What'd ya look at?"
+
+Jeff answered contemptuously, "I wouldn't expect any of you to think
+that far, but the bullet went clear through Johnny. There are enough
+trees and shrubs around so that it had to nick one of them. It's easy to
+figure the angle it came from."
+
+Jeff held his breath. He himself had not thought of this until now, but
+it had to be right. Johnny Blazer was a woodsman. If whoever shot him
+had been in the open, Johnny would have seen him. Because he was
+unarmed, he probably would have died anyhow. But he would have died in
+the brush for he would at least have tried to escape.
+
+Slow-thinking Dabb digested Jeff's statement and spoke solemnly. "Hit's
+right, Barr. None among us thought to look."
+
+Barr was momentarily bewildered. "None saw the need."
+
+"But need there might be."
+
+"Go look, Dabb."
+
+"I'll gao, too," Pete offered.
+
+"Dabb's goin'."
+
+Rifle in the crook of his arm, Dabb left the cabin. Jeff waited
+uneasily. Dabb's education might be a bit short in the conjugation of
+verbs and the more complex forms of mathematics, but it had taught him
+all about ballistics. When he came back he would know whether or not
+Johnny had been shot from ambush.
+
+If he hadn't been--Jeff looked at Barr's stormy eyes and shuddered.
+
+Twenty minutes later, Dabb returned. He came slowly, and somewhat
+shrunkenly, as though he had been both derided and belittled. He stood
+in the doorway, not looking at the rest, and when he spoke his voice was
+muffled and reluctant.
+
+"Hit's true, Barr. Hit's true enough. Whosoever shot Blazer was
+crouchin' in a little patch of evergreens a hunnert an' fifty steps from
+the road." He said, as though that was vastly important, "With my own
+eyes I saw his crouch. He broke some twigs the better to see."
+
+Something came into the cabin with him, an unseen but heavy and mournful
+something that seemed, within itself, to rob everyone of the power of
+speech. The Whitneys looked sidewise at each other and Barr spoke
+slowly,
+
+"Thus ye saw?"
+
+"Thus I saw."
+
+"Whar did the lead strike?"
+
+"The tree," Dabb answered dully. "Hit's buried in the tree."
+
+There was silence which Barr broke with a soul-desolated cry, "This day
+I know shame!"
+
+They were weighted as though by heavy burdens, and Jeff understood why
+they scourged themselves. By the cowardly action of one of their number,
+something they could never get back had been taken from all of them.
+They must hang their heads because among them walked a man who was not a
+man. Jeff rubbed salt into their wounds.
+
+"You can all be proud of yourselves."
+
+It was as though they did not hear. This terrible crime, this heinous
+sin, had been committed, but they did not want to believe.
+
+Grant said hopefully, "Maybe 'twar an outlander."
+
+"'Twar no outlander," Barr muttered. "'Twas a hill man."
+
+Jeff trembled, fired with another idea. If the tree could talk, he had
+thought, it might tell who shot Johnny Blazer. _The tree could talk!_
+
+"Are you afraid to find out who did it?" he challenged.
+
+Barr glowered at him. "An' how do we do that!"
+
+"Dig the bullet out of the tree."
+
+"Pay nao heed to him!" Pete intoned. "He would but tangle us an' lead us
+from him."
+
+"Hold your tongue!" Barr ordered gruffly. "No man walks safe with one
+among us who shoots men as he would a varmint! Get the bullet, Dabb!"
+
+Dabb left a second time and Jeff hoped his wildly beating heart could
+not be heard. To these mountain men killing was right, as long as men
+met in a fair fight. But it was soul-blackening, the extreme depths of
+degradation, to kill as Johnny Blazer's killer had, and that killer was
+about to be known. Only one rifle could have fired the fatal shot, and
+the hill men would recognize that bullet and know who had fired it. Or
+would they? Four of the Whitneys present carried thirty caliber rifles
+and there must be more in the hills. Jeff's hopes alternately rose and
+waned.
+
+Then Dabb came back and held up the leaden slug so all could see. Four
+pairs of eyes swung accusingly on Pete. Mushrooming where it had struck
+Johnny and then the tree, the slug still retained its shape where it had
+fitted its brass shell. There could be no mistake; it was fifty caliber.
+
+Sweat broke out on Pete's forehead. "Hit--Hit--'Twarn't me!"
+
+Barr spat, "'Twar you!"
+
+"He--he stole pelts out'en my traps!"
+
+"You met him unfair!"
+
+Pete half screamed. "He had a rifle an' shot afore I did!"
+
+Barr said relentlessly, "Whar was his rifle?"
+
+"I--I brought it back here!"
+
+"He had no rifle! You lay like a whiskered cat afore a mouse's den an'
+gave him no fairness. Do not add a lie to cowardice."
+
+Jeff said eagerly, "Now you know, Barr. Now all of you know, and Dan did
+tell part of the truth. I promised him that we'd find out who shot his
+father. It was all we wanted and all we will want. I am not a
+policeman."
+
+Barr looked squarely at him. "So you say."
+
+"It's true. Go to Ackerton and find out what I did there. And think a
+little. Neither the Whitneys nor anyone else can take the law into their
+own hands and forever keep it there. Do the right thing now."
+
+"An' what is that?"
+
+"Take Pete into Smithville and turn him over to Bill Ellis. He'll get a
+fair trial."
+
+"_Pah!_" Yancey exploded. "Give our kin into the law's keep? 'Tis best
+to shoot him ourselves!"
+
+"Stop the talkin'." Barr was still looking at Jeff. "You say ye are a
+peddler an' naught else?"
+
+"I say so."
+
+"Yet, you saw fit to beholden yourself to the boy? You took it upon
+yourself to tell him you'd settle with whosoever shot his father?"
+
+"I did."
+
+"Then, be ye peddler or policeman, you shall."
+
+"What do you mean?"
+
+"We'll bide here through the day," Barr pronounced. "With the night we
+shall go to a cabin on Trilley Ridge. You have a shotgun an'," Barr
+inclined a contemptuous head toward Pete, "he has a rifle. With the
+dawn, both at the same time, ye'll walk on Trilley Ridge. If you come
+down the ridge, peddler, ye'll be free to come an' go amongst us. If
+Pete comes down it, he has a twenty-four hours to leave the hills. I
+shall sit with ye in the cabin. Grant, Dabb an' Yancey shall be at the
+foot of Trilley Ridge, to shoot should one of ye flee rather than
+fight."
+
+Grant, Dabb and Yancey nodded solemn agreement. Jeff's head reeled. With
+tomorrow's dawn, he was to fight a death duel with Pete Whitney. Barr
+would be with them all night to make sure that things went according to
+his fantastic plan. Dabb, Grant and Yancey would be waiting to kill
+whoever violated the terms of the duel. If Jeff won, even though he
+would be privileged to remain in the hills, he would have killed a man.
+Regardless of what happened or who won, the Whitneys would have rid
+themselves of an unwelcome kinsman and closed the mouth of one who might
+be a policeman.
+
+Jeff licked dry lips. He had never killed a man and knew that he could
+never kill. He tried to think of some way out, of something he could do,
+and there was nothing. Jeff licked his lips again.
+
+"What say you?" Barr demanded.
+
+"It--it's a crazy idea!"
+
+"'Tis what ye wanted, what ye told the boy you'd git."
+
+"I didn't tell him I'd get it this way. For heaven's sake, man, listen
+to reason! The law, and not me, should take care of this."
+
+Barr's eyes flamed. "Are ye a policeman?"
+
+"No!"
+
+"The boy said different."
+
+"Mebbe," Grant said slowly, "'twould be best to shoot him. I'll go on
+Trilley Ridge with--with who used to be my kin."
+
+Jeff heaved a great sigh. First things first, always a new customer down
+the road, and if he went on the ridge, he would have time to think. If
+he did not, his hours were numbered anyway. He said slowly, "Let it be
+your way, Barr."
+
+Barr said quietly, "'Tis well ye say so, for 'twould not be right should
+a Whitney shoot a Whitney or be shot by one. D'ye lack aught?"
+
+"My pack."
+
+Barr looked curiously at him but Jeff made no attempt to satisfy his
+curiosity. He'd always been able to pull almost anything he needed out
+of his pack and there should be something to help him now. He couldn't
+think of what it was, but the pack had been a part of him for so long
+that he would feel better if he had it.
+
+"Whar's the pack?" Barr asked.
+
+"At Granny Wilson's."
+
+"Get it an' fetch it," Barr directed Yancey. "D'ye need aught else?"
+
+Jeff's brain was still whirling. "No."
+
+Barr glanced inquiringly at Pete, who stared like a vicious animal and
+said nothing. There was finality in Barr's words. "Ask no more for it
+shall not be given. Both have had your say."
+
+The words hammered dully at Jeff's ears. Then he awoke with a start and
+swallowed twice. For the first time he became aware of the shotgun
+shells that weighted his pocket. They were even more harmless than so
+many stones, for they were still loaded with paper.
+
+But he'd been given a chance to speak and he had not spoken.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Pal went wild with joy when Jeff returned from Ackerton. He stayed as
+close as he could get, for he had missed his master greatly and needed
+him sorely. He smirked at the white kitten when he spotted it, but made
+no hostile move because Jeff had brought it. Wholly contented, Pal lay
+at Jeff's feet while he breakfasted and talked with Granny and Dan.
+
+When Jeff rose to leave, Pal danced happily to the door and wagged his
+tail in anticipation. Everything was once more as it had been and
+should be. They were about to go peddling together on the trails. The
+big dog glanced back to see if Dan was coming, too. Instead, the boy
+grasped his collar.
+
+"You stay here."
+
+Pal flattened his ears and drooped his tail. But he was not allowed to
+go. For a full minute he stood hopefully in front of the door. Then he
+went sadly back into the kitchen.
+
+Playing with a ball of paper that Granny had wadded up and thrown on the
+floor, the fluffy kitten arched its back and spat. Pal paid no
+attention. His heart was heavy and joy had gone with Jeff.
+
+All the rest of the morning he was a wooden dog who did not even rouse
+himself when Yancey Whitney came to the door, said that Jeff wanted his
+pack, and went away with it. That afternoon he followed Dan about the
+hill, but he had no eyes for the sheep, the cow, the mule, and he lacked
+zest even for chasing blackbirds that came to pillage Granny's garden.
+He cared only about the trail up which Jeff had come and down which he
+had gone again.
+
+That night, after Dan and Granny had gone to bed, Pal padded restlessly
+over to the door. Eagerly he sniffed every wind that blew and every
+scent that tickled his nose. He knew when six deer, feeling safe in the
+cover of night, came out of the forest and climbed the hill to graze in
+the sheep pasture. He heard a mouse rustle, and he was aware when a
+night-flying owl cruised past the door. All these things he smelled or
+heard. He felt only the absence of his master.
+
+The night was very deep and very black when Pal's yearning for Jeff
+became unbearable. He pushed his nose against the door, and when he did
+so the latch rattled slightly. He pricked up his ears and bent his head
+toward the noise, but he did not understand any of the mysterious ways
+by which people fastened things.
+
+Softly he reared against the door, sniffing at every crack. Getting
+down, he trembled anxiously. Then, inch by inch, he began a second
+inspection of the door.
+
+It was completely accidental when, in raising his head, he pushed the
+latch upward and the door swung open. Pal did not linger to think about
+anything else; he knew only that the way was clear. He flew into the
+night, found Jeff's trail and raced along it.
+
+At Johnny Blazer's cabin, he scented Jeff's trail and that of five
+Whitneys--the pack-laden Yancey had gone back there--leading into the
+hills. Pal followed along.
+
+He halted momentarily at the foot of Trilley Ridge, for Dabb Whitney was
+sitting on a big rock and the smell of his pipe was rank and heavy in
+the darkness. Pal slipped past, knowing that he could not be seen in the
+night. He caught the odor of wood smoke. Then, mingled with it, were the
+scents of Pete and Barr Whitney and of Jeff. Abandoning the trail, Pal
+followed his nose to his beloved master.
+
+He came to the cabin and scratched on the door.
+
+
+
+
+12. SURPRISE
+
+
+They came to the cabin on Trilley Ridge after dark, Jeff and Pete
+walking side by side and Barr silent behind them. Jeff balanced the pack
+on his shoulders and was glad he had it there. It was an old friend and
+had always been a true one. He had been in trouble many times while it
+was on his shoulders, but he had never stayed in trouble.
+
+As they walked he tried to pinpoint directions, but because of the
+darkness he could not do so. They had left the road for a path so faint
+that the casual traveler would not even see it as he passed. There was
+another path, and still another, and all of it was country that the hill
+men knew well but that Jeff did not know at all. When they finally
+reached the cabin, he was sure only that it was north of the road. But
+it would not have been an unpleasant journey if Pete had not been
+walking with him.
+
+Found out, Pete had retreated sullenly into himself and Jeff again
+thought of an animal. But Pete was no ordinary savage thing that might
+attack because it was hungry or seeking a fight. He planned, and hidden
+behind his weak blue eyes was a crafty brain. Jeff knew that Pete's
+only thought revolved around ways to kill him, and it was a cold thing
+to know.
+
+The men came to the cabin and Barr said, "This is hit."
+
+Jeff spoke over his shoulder. "You sure the place isn't haunted?"
+
+"No ha'nts." Barr seemed perplexed, as though there was something about
+the mission he no longer understood. "Push the door an' go in."
+
+"Sure," Jeff said agreeably.
+
+He opened the door and felt Pete go tense beside him. Jeff gripped his
+shotgun with both hands, preparing to bring it crashing down on the
+man's head. Pete would kill without imperiling himself, if he could, and
+almost his only chance would occur when they entered the dark cabin. But
+Barr knew this too.
+
+"Stay here," he ordered his cousin. And to Jeff, "Got a match in your
+pocket?"
+
+"Yep."
+
+"Go in by yourself an' light hit. Strike hit to the tallow candle
+that'll be settin' on the table."
+
+Jeff entered, felt the cabin's walls enclose him, and had a strange
+feeling that Barr Whitney was a complete fool. It would be simple to
+swing suddenly, cock the shotgun as he swung and, always supposing he
+had some live ammunition, send a leaden hail back through the door. Then
+he understood.
+
+Barr was no fool. He had merely gauged Jeff and he knew men. He had
+known that Pete would turn and shoot if sent in first, but Jeff would
+not. Besides, Jeff thought wryly, though Pete might be forced to stand
+in any line of fire that might sweep out the door, Barr would be
+elsewhere.
+
+Jeff took a match from his pocket, struck it, and looked around the
+cabin. It was one fairly large room, and at the far end was a natural
+stone fireplace. There was a table, three chairs, two double bunks built
+one on top of the other, cooking utensils hanging from wooden pegs
+driven into the wall, and small windows. The cabin was either a
+bachelor's home or else it was used only on occasion by some person or
+persons who had reason to spend time here. Jeff touched his dying match
+to the fat tallow candle that stood on the table and flicked the burned
+match onto the floor.
+
+"Come on in," he said cheerfully. "And welcome to our happy home!"
+
+Pete's face was cold, and that was almost the only expression. He strode
+to a chair, pulled it away from the table and sat down with his rifle
+across his lap. Jeff stood his shotgun in a corner and turned to face
+Barr.
+
+"Snug little den," he said pleasantly.
+
+Barr looked puzzled and said nothing. However, the burning determination
+and the sternness were partly gone from his face. This was a serious
+business but Jeff was not accepting it seriously. Never flicking his
+eyes from his captives, Barr pulled a chair very close to the door.
+
+"Here we be," he pronounced, "an' here we stay 'til the sun lightens the
+topmost twigs on the big pines."
+
+"That's cute," Jeff declared admiringly. "That's really cute!"
+
+Barr glared at him. "What is?"
+
+"Your description. ''Til the sun lightens the topmost twigs on the big
+pines.' Not exactly poetry, but it has a poetic spirit. Well, if we're
+going to be here all night, we should do something besides glare at each
+other."
+
+He slid out of the pack, laid it on the table and stretched. Then he
+stifled a yawn. He'd had no sleep last night and evidently he'd get none
+tonight, but more than once he'd had to stay awake as long, and he could
+do it again.
+
+"If you be weary," Barr indicated the bunks, "you might sleep."
+
+"Thanks," Jeff declined, "but I'm afraid I'd have bad dreams. Besides,
+this may be my last chance to talk with you. What'll we talk about,
+Barr?"
+
+Barr broke out suddenly, "I can't plumb ya. Can't plumb ya a'tall!"
+
+Jeff said smoothly, "It's easy. I'm not a complex person. I'll tell you
+my life story if you want to hear it. Won't cost you a cent."
+
+"I swan!" Barr ejaculated. "I could like ye a lot if'n I didn't--"
+
+"If you didn't think I was a policeman? Sorry I can't change your mind
+on that subject. But I'm not."
+
+Barr's eyes searched Jeff's. "Why'd the boy say it?"
+
+Jeff shrugged. "If I knew why boys say things, I'd be a lot smarter than
+I am."
+
+"But ya did tell the boy ya'd find out who kil't Blazer?"
+
+"Yup."
+
+"Yet, now ye got the chanst, you'd pass it by?"
+
+"This is a chance? I don't want to kill anybody. I never promised Dan
+anything except that we'd find his father's murderer. Afterwards I was
+going to turn him over to the law."
+
+Barr wrinkled his brows. "But ye be no policeman?"
+
+"I'm not," Jeff said flatly. "Barr, what had you intended to do with
+me?"
+
+It was Barr's turn to shrug. "Shoot ya."
+
+"And in your opinion, that was right?"
+
+Barr said fiercely, "A body don't stop to think should he tromp on its
+haid does he find a pizen snake on his h'arthstone!"
+
+Jeff lapsed into silence. His life story he had offered in jest, but he
+understood Barr's. His ancestors had been among the first to come to
+America, and they had come because there wasn't room enough for them in
+Europe. But neither had there been room enough in America's scattered
+colonies for people so fierce, reckless and proud. They had either left
+the settlements of their own accord or been driven out. They had wanted
+above all to live by their own personal inclinations and not by rules
+which they had little part in making. Always they had sought the wildest
+and most inaccessible places because only there could they live as they
+must.
+
+Barr Whitney typified this wild independence, which couldn't possibly
+endure. Sooner or later even the hill clans must submit to the forward
+march of civilization and Jeff hoped that the advancing juggernaut would
+not crush them completely. The spirit they represented always had been
+and always would be necessary to free people. Probably the older ones
+would go down fighting; certainly they would never learn that they must
+bend themselves to others. Perhaps their children, or their children's
+children, would.
+
+Jeff shrugged. That was to come. This was now, and neither civilization
+nor anything else had as yet tamed Barr Whitney. Jeff rubbed a hand on
+his trousers.
+
+"You ail?" Barr asked.
+
+"My hand's twitching."
+
+"The oil of shunk an' the grease of b'ar, mixed two of one to one of the
+other, an' cooked on a hick'ry fire when the moon's near horn points to
+water, will drive out ary itch."
+
+Jeff grinned. "Can't wait for the moon's near horn to point to water,
+and besides I don't want a cure. When my hand twitches, I'm lucky."
+
+Pete moved so swiftly that he seemed in one split second to be sitting
+on his chair and then, magically, to be standing with his rifle at half
+raise. But quick as he was, Barr was quicker. His rifle cracked, a lock
+of hair detached itself from Pete's head to float softly to the floor,
+and before the sound died Barr had levered another cartridge into the
+chamber. He spoke as casually as though he had just shot at a squirrel.
+
+"Next'un's goin' through your haid, Pete. Si' down."
+
+Pete sat. Barr grinned. Jeff dared let himself think of the prospect
+that awaited.
+
+Tomorrow morning, side by side and at exactly the same time, Jeff and
+Pete would be allowed to leave the cabin. Jeff pulled his stomach in, as
+though he could already feel Pete's slug ripping through it. Again he
+pondered escaping, but all he could think of was what he had already
+considered.
+
+If he ran, one of the waiting Whitneys would shoot him down when he came
+off the ridge. There was little chance of doing anything tonight; Barr
+was along to see that he didn't. He couldn't protect himself with paper
+bullets. Jeff had a wild notion of whirling as they stepped out the
+door, smashing Pete over the head with the muzzle of his shotgun, and
+trying to claim him as prisoner. But that was a very wild plan which had
+almost no chance of success. Pete was far too quick and far too expert a
+rifleman.
+
+Jeff put such thoughts behind him. No man could do anything well if he
+tried to do more than one thing at a time, and first things must be
+first. He shivered.
+
+"How about a fire, Barr?"
+
+"Lay a blaze if'n ye want. Thar's wood in the box."
+
+Jeff laid a fire, lighted it and stood with his back to the fireplace as
+flames crackled. He looked at a darkened window and had a curious
+thought that this night would never end. It should, he decided, have
+passed long ago. But when he looked at his watch, it was only half past
+nine.
+
+He should be hungry but he wasn't. They'd eaten in Johnny Blazer's
+cabin, and now he was too nervous to eat. After a very long interval, he
+looked again at his watch.
+
+It was a quarter to ten.
+
+Jeff glanced at his pack and created mental images of the goods it
+contained. There were knives, fishing tackle, a half dozen new mouth
+organs, fiddle strings, gay ribbons, scissors, needles--He had bought
+only what the hill people wanted, and among all of it he could not think
+of a single article that would help him now.
+
+Jeff set his jaw. Maybe, if there was something to do, time would not
+drag so slowly and, besides, he could think better when he was busy.
+"Play cards?" he invited.
+
+"No." Barr shook his head.
+
+"Oh, come on!"
+
+Barr tipped his head toward Pete, who sat motionless, with his rifle
+across his lap. Unmoving, he missed nothing and was ready at a split
+second notice to take advantage of anything that offered.
+
+"Take his rifle away," Jeff urged. "You can still watch him."
+
+"A body has the right to keep his rifle."
+
+"He sure is nursing it." Jeff felt reckless. "How about sitting in,
+Pete? We don't have to shoot each other before morning."
+
+Pete refused to answer. Jeff pulled his chair to the table and tried to
+entertain himself with solitaire. But he was too tense and strained to
+concentrate, and when he found himself adding the four of hearts to the
+seven of spades, he shoved the cards across the table and let them lay
+there. Restlessly he threw another chunk of wood on the fire and turned
+to Barr.
+
+With no noise, and almost without effort, Barr rose. His eyes were alert
+and his face was intent. He backed, so that while continuing to command
+the cabin and the two in it, he could control the door, too. There was a
+rasping scratch on the door and Barr said softly, "See what's thar. See
+who's a'visitin'."
+
+Jeff opened the door and Pal panted in. His ears were flat and his tail
+hang-dog as, giving Barr a wide berth and glancing suspiciously at Pete,
+he went to the far end of the cabin and stood. Not knowing whether or
+not he was to be punished for leaving Granny's, he looked expectantly at
+his master. Jeff laughed and twitched his fingers.
+
+"Come here, you old flea cage."
+
+Grinning happily, Pal came at once and Jeff brushed his shaggy head with
+an affectionate hand. He was less tense and, strangely, his anxiety
+lessened. The great dog wagged an ecstatic tail while Jeff continued to
+pat his head.
+
+For a short space, delighted to be near each other once more, neither
+had paid attention to anything else. Pal licked Jeff's face with a big,
+sloppy tongue and wagged everything from his muzzle to the tip of his
+tail. He turned to growl at Barr and Pete, and Barr flicked his rifle.
+
+"I wouldn't leave him try it."
+
+"I won't," Jeff promised.
+
+He slipped two fingers beneath Pal's collar, led him over to the table
+and sat down. Bending over Pal, as though continuing to caress him, he
+hoped Barr could not hear his pounding heart, and was glad his eyes were
+hidden. After a moment, Jeff raised his head.
+
+He looked too casually at the candle that flickered a foot from his
+hand. Trying to appear disinterested, he gauged Pete's exact distance
+and Barr's position. He moistened dry lips with his tongue and reviewed
+his suddenly-formed plan.
+
+Even though he risked a burned hand doing it, he was positive that he
+could snuff the candle out before Barr could shoot. Then he'd tip the
+table over and fight his way out. Jeff nibbled his lower lip and looked
+doubtfully at Pal. Barr was supple as an eel and strong as an ox; Jeff
+might need help and could he count on Pal?
+
+Barr asked suspiciously, "What ye flustered about?"
+
+Jeff muttered silently at himself. He had a plan. If it was desperate,
+the situation called for desperate measures. But everything depended on
+surprise. To give Barr the slightest warning would also give him time to
+shoot Jeff. It went without saying that he would then be able to shoot
+Pal, and Jeff hadn't the least doubt that Barr would be happy to do
+both. He forced a laugh.
+
+"It's just nice to see something around here that's not hell-bent to
+shoot something else."
+
+Barr remained alert. "Whar'd ye get Blazer's dog?"
+
+"Found him over beyond Cressman," Jeff said truthfully. "Do you keep
+dogs?"
+
+"Houn's," Barr admitted. "Wouldn't pester myself with a no-account dog
+such as that."
+
+Jeff cast for a way to lull Barr. "Depends on what you want in a dog,
+wouldn't you say?"
+
+"Could. What do you want?"
+
+Jeff did his best to look like a man who faces a desperate situation,
+but who was mightily cheered because his dog saw fit to track him down.
+If he did everything exactly right, and with split-second precision, his
+plan had at least an even chance of working.
+
+Escape would not solve everything. Pete would still be unpunished and if
+the Whitneys should meet him, Jeff, again, they would not bother to take
+him prisoner. They'd shoot on sight. But he could name Johnny Blazer's
+killer. That would start things, and maybe he'd be able to finish them.
+
+Regardless of what might happen in the future, this was now. Jeff had to
+get out of the cabin before he could do anything else, but it was as
+though Barr could read his mind.
+
+"You're ponderin'," he accused.
+
+"Is that a crime in these hills?"
+
+"If," Barr said deliberately, "you try to make a break, I'll kill ye in
+your tracks. I have spoke it."
+
+Jeff said irritably, "Don't be a darn fool!"
+
+"Don't you be one, nuther. You're gettin' a chanst."
+
+"Yes," Jeff sighed, "a big chance." He looked again at the candle. "Any
+of your hounds ever get you out of jail, Barr?"
+
+"_Pah!_ How might a houn' do such?"
+
+"Well, Pal got me out."
+
+"Those words I mistrust."
+
+"He did," Jeff insisted. "It was in Cressman--"
+
+He told of the Cressman jail and of how he was literally thrown out of
+it because, when he played the mouth organ, Pal howled. He spoke of
+inquiring the way to Delview as a ruse to throw Pop and Joe Parker from
+his trail, for he suspected that they had intended to have him
+rearrested there. Instead of going to Delview, he had come over the
+hills to Smithville.
+
+Barr chuckled derisively. "Peddlin' teach you sech tall tales?"
+
+"It's true."
+
+"Ha! You toot music an' the dog howls?"
+
+"Let me show you."
+
+Jeff took a mouth organ from his pack, blew a soft note and Pal
+responded with a moaning wail that trailed out on a soft soprano note.
+
+Barr seemed dumfounded. "Doggone!"
+
+Jeff's eyes strayed to the candle. Barr rose, wrenched it from its
+drippings and put it down at the far end of the table. He resumed his
+seat. "I can see best when hit's thar," he announced grimly. "You wa'nt
+havin' notions 'bout that candle, was you?"
+
+"Why, no, of course not."
+
+Jeff managed to appear innocent, even while he mentally kicked himself.
+His chance had come and gone. There'd be another chance and Barr seemed
+more at ease.
+
+"This night I learn't what I knew not. A dog howls to noise."
+
+"This one does."
+
+"Make him do hit ag'in. 'Tis a mighty curious thing."
+
+Jeff blew another note and Pal howled again. Barr's eyes sparkled. An
+elemental creature himself, he was interested in the elemental and this
+fascinated him. He must find the answer, but while seeking it he did not
+forget to keep his eyes on Jeff and Pete.
+
+"Why's he do hit?" he asked.
+
+"I don't know," Jeff admitted. "Can't figure it myself."
+
+"Have him do hit some more."
+
+At the first note, Pal obliged with a banshee wail that subsided, then
+gathered force and mounted again. The sound filled the cabin and offered
+the illusion of being not only real, but all reality. It was as though
+the door burst open of its own accord, and Jeff rubbed his eyes in
+disbelief.
+
+Ike Wilson stood framed in the doorway.
+
+He was slim, supple, smiling, but behind the smile there was something
+hard as stone and there was nothing to provoke humor in the cocked,
+double-barreled shotgun he carried. Half erect in his chair, Barr froze
+there. Pete's face turned white. Ike grinned happily.
+
+"Hi, peddler!"
+
+"Hi, Ike! Where the blazes did you come from?"
+
+"Broadview Prison. Stopped by Granny's an' she told me you was about.
+Heerd the dog howl an' calc'lated you'd be nigh." His chuckle was rich
+and very audible. "I didn't expect a hul nest of you. Good thing I
+peered in the window glass afore I come in."
+
+Barr snarled, "This ain't your mix!"
+
+"Oh, yes, it is! Yes, it is my mix! Now just hand me that lil' old rifle
+gun, Barr. Stock foremost."
+
+Fighting against so doing but unable to help himself, Barr relinquished
+his rifle. Ike threw it through the open door.
+
+"Now, Pete," he coaxed, "I need your'n."
+
+Pete remained rooted. Smiling, but with a deadly something behind the
+smile, Ike tightened his finger on the shotgun's trigger.
+
+"Don't like to shoot settin' pat'tidges, but I will."
+
+Pete handed his rifle over. Ike tossed it out and slammed the door.
+Holding the shotgun with one hand, he drew a length of buckskin from his
+pocket and whipped it straight. He spoke as though he were addressing a
+petulant child. "Now just put your hands behin't the chair, Barr. This
+shotgun might go off accidental like, an' it makes quite a hole."
+
+Tight-lipped, Barr did as he was ordered. Expertly Ike laced his hands
+and then his feet. He approached Jeff apologetically.
+
+"'Feard I'll have to tie you too, peddler."
+
+"But--"
+
+"Now don't gimme no fuss." Ike rubbed the friendly Pal's head. "Jest do
+like Uncle Ike says."
+
+Jeff thrust his hands behind the chair and permitted himself to be
+bound. Ike slipped a rawhide thong through Pal's collar and tied him to
+the chair rung. He stood erect and looked around, his manner that of one
+who has just done a job and done it well.
+
+Jeff asked, "What's the big idea, Ike?"
+
+Ike chuckled again. "Business! Say, how come these Whitneys had a gun on
+you?"
+
+"Barr," Jeff inclined his head, "had the idea that I'm a policeman."
+
+"Fer snort's sake!" Ike faced Barr. "Your brain soft? He's a peddler an'
+a good 'un. I ought to know. I was in jail with him."
+
+"Leave me loose," Barr snarled, "an' I won't hurt ye."
+
+"'Pears to me you won't anyhow."
+
+"Ye'll not git back down the ridge!"
+
+"Now, now," Ike soothed, "jest leave that to Uncle Ike. I got up it,
+didn't I?"
+
+Ike whirled to face Pete and something inside of Jeff turned cold. He
+had seen angry men, but suddenly he knew that not even Barr Whitney was
+as strong in anger as Ike Wilson. It was an inward quality, for
+outwardly he remained very gentle and he did not raise his voice.
+
+"I come fer Bucky."
+
+Pete muttered sullenly, "Got nothin' to do with Bucky."
+
+"Oh, yes, you have," Ike corrected him. "Yes, you have. Bucky's still in
+Broadview, but you're goin' to help get him out. Bet that if you
+strained yourself, you could mind the night we got Wheeler's chickens.
+You was goin' to stay behin't, you said, an' leave us know should
+somebody come. But when the police come, you was a long ways behin't.
+What'd they pay you fer turnin' us in, Pete?"
+
+Sweat glistened on Pete's brow. "I had naught to do with it!"
+
+"You'll never git anywhere, Pete, lyin' in such a way. Are you comin'
+like a little man, or am I goin' to scatter your spare parts from here
+to Cressman?"
+
+Pete gasped, "What you goin' to do with me?"
+
+"Jest lay in the hills," Ike soothed. "Leastwise we'll lay thar 'til I
+can send word to that smart Joe Parker. Goin' to tell him, I am, that I
+know who stuck up the Cressman bank. Goin' to tell him that, when Bucky
+comes into the hills, he'll find that man tied to a tree. I reckon
+Parker'll swap for that."
+
+"If he doesn't," Jeff said suddenly, "you can offer more. Pete killed
+Johnny Blazer!"
+
+"He did?" Ike's eyes glowed eagerly. "Now I know I got me a swap! Come
+'long, Pete."
+
+Herding his captive, he started for the door. Suddenly he stopped and
+ordered, "Wait thar!"
+
+Pete stood still. Ike glided to Jeff, sliced the bonds that tied his
+hands, and bent to whisper, "Gimme five minutes, peddler--jest five
+minutes an' kiss Granny fer me."
+
+"I will," Jeff promised, "and I'll tell her that you'll deliver one to
+her yourself in a few days."
+
+He waited ten minutes before stooping to untie his feet. He rose, and
+before freeing Barr he glanced out of one of the small windows.
+
+The first hint of dawn was in the sky and the horizon was endless. He
+had found binding ties in these hills, but somehow he had found
+limitless freedom, too.
+
+
+
+
+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 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 door step." 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."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+_Books by Jim Kjelgaard_
+
+
+BIG RED
+
+REBEL SIEGE
+
+FOREST PATROL
+
+BUCKSKIN BRIGADE
+
+CHIP, THE DAM BUILDER
+
+FIRE HUNTER
+
+IRISH RED
+
+KALAK OF THE ICE
+
+A NOSE FOR TROUBLE
+
+SNOW DOG
+
+TRAILING TROUBLE
+
+WILD TREK
+
+THE EXPLORATIONS OF PERE MARQUETTE
+
+THE SPELL OF THE WHITE STURGEON
+
+OUTLAW RED
+
+THE STORY OF THE MORMONS
+
+CRACKER BARREL TROUBLE SHOOTER
+
+THE LOST WAGON
+
+LION HOUND
+
+TRADING JEFF AND HIS DOG
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of Project Gutenberg's Trading Jeff and his Dog, by James Arthur Kjelgaard
+
+*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 41690 ***