Double Challenge Part 22

"Right as rain."

Ted got grimly back into the pickup and started down the road. Nine dollars a day for fourteen days meant another hundred and twenty-six dollars that probably would be sorely needed when Al had his inevitable day in court, but Ted hadn't wanted to accept the job tonight because, somehow, doing so would have seemed grasping. But he'd swallow his pride and take it tomorrow. He must think of nothing except clearing his father's name.

Back at the house, Ted loaded Tammie's pack very carefully. Laying out in the Mahela, Al would not expect and did not need luxuries. Ted packed cornmeal and oatmeal, desiccated soup, a parcel of dried apricots, powdered milk, sugar, tea, flour. But when everything else was in, there was room for a parcel of frozen pork chops. Ted added them and a note.

Dad: Everything's fine. There are grouse hunters in camp now and there will be bear hunters next. Take care of yourself and let me know what you need.

Love, Ted

At five minutes past midnight, he strapped the pack on Tammie, took him to the back door and let him out. Just as he did, there was an almost timid knock on the front door. He jumped nervously.

"Go to Al!" he urged. "Take it to Al, Tammie! And please run!"

He shut the back door and perspiration broke on his brow as he stood anxiously near it. Callahan, whose suspicions should have been effectively lulled, was not lulled at all. He'd merely bided his time, struck at the right hour and Ted was trapped.

He crossed the floor on shaky legs and opened the front door to come face to face with Nels Anderson. Ted gasped.

His one-time working partner was pale and looked ill. Weariness had left its impression in great blue patches beneath both eyes, but it was not entirely physical weariness. Nels had suffered some terrible shock--and in his extremity he had come to his friend.

"Nels! What's wrong?"

"I," Nels forced the shadow of his former smile, "am all right."

"Come on in!"

"I--I do not want to bother you. But I saw your light and--"

"What on earth have you been doing?"

"Walkin'. Yoost walkin'."

"All night?"

"I--" Nels looked at the floor. "I did not want to see Hilda. I--I lose my yob."

"How come?"

Nels smiled again, but it was a sickly smile. "Mrs. Martin, she's helpin' in the kitchen while huntin' season's on, she says, 'Nels,' she says, 'the door on the walk-in cooler is stuck. I can't open it. Can you?' I say I open it and Thornton comes. 'Told you to stay out of here!' he yells. He was awful mad. 'Now get out and stay out!' So, no more yob."

"You'll get another one."

"Oh sure. I get another one easy. You--You know where?"

Ted said recklessly, "I know where you can work for the next two weeks.

There's a bunch of hunters in my camp and they're looking for somebody to do their cooking and odd jobs. Get up there tomorrow morning and say I sent you. The pay is nine dollars a day."

Stars shone in Nels' woebegone eyes. "You mean it?"

"Sure I mean it."

"Yah! I go tell Hilda!"

Nels had shuffled in the door but he seemed to float out of it. Ted stared grimly at the black window. He needed the money himself, but Nels had a wife and five children and whether or not they ate regularly depended on whether Nels worked steadily. Ted paced back and forth, then sank into a chair.

Weariness overcame him and he dozed.... He awakened suddenly, sure he'd heard something. Then Tammie whined for admittance and Ted got up to let him in. He took off the pack and looked for the note he knew he would find.

Dear Ted: Tammy c.u.m agen, as you know. I'm set rite nise now. There is no need to send Tammy agen for a cuple weeks. Tel your bear hunters that a lot of bears hang out in Carter Valley.

Your dad

9

A BLACK BEAR CHARGES

Ted had had an awakening.

Four days after he sent Nels to work for the Beamish party, Nels had come back singing their praises in the loftiest tones. They were all gentlemen of the highest order. n.o.body cared what he cooked as long as there was plenty of whatever it was. Driving Nels into Lorton, Mr.

Strickland had asked him to order groceries and had paid the rather large bill without a murmur. That night they'd voted him the best camp cook they ever saw and given him a ten-dollar tip.

Of course, they were a little bit queer. He'd told them his name at least a dozen times, but everybody insisted on calling him Hjalmar. They p.r.o.nounced it exactly as it was spelled, too. Nels didn't mind because Hjalmar was certainly a fine old name. But it had taken him almost a day to get used to it.

They were wonderful hunters, especially that Mr. Beamish. The first day he'd shot five grouse, the second seven, and on the two succeeding days he'd shot five and seven. That made twenty-three grouse in four days and he'd used just thirty-two sh.e.l.ls. It must be some kind of record or something, Nels didn't know. However, each day everyone else in the party had paid Mr. Beamish money. Nels understood if Mr. Beamish scored too many misses, he'd have to pay all the others. Still singing the praises of the Beamish party, Nels hurried off to resume his duties with them.

Ted was left to ponder a problem that he had hoped he would never have to face.

Too many people--who were too often intelligent people--took game laws far too lightly. They shot what they wished when they wished to, and few of them ever thought that they were doing any wrong. Actually, in every sense of the word, they were thieves. Bag and possession limits, insofar as it was humanly possible to apportion wild game justly, were provided so everyone might have a share and still leave some behind. Who took more than his share, took from all the others.

Beyond the shadow of a doubt, it was the duty of anyone who knew of game law violations to report the violator to the nearest warden so the proper action could be taken. But how could Ted report Arthur Beamish's when Beamish was his guest? The boy still hadn't made a decision when, the next day, Loring Blade came in.

The warden said quietly, "I've been watching the grouse hunters in your camp."

"You have?"

"Yes, and I arrested one of them this morning, a man named Beamish. He's killed nineteen grouse that I know of, seven over anything he should have had, in four days."

Ted said reluctantly, "He's killed twenty-three."

"How do you know?"

"Nels told me."

"Wish I'd known that, but I think he'll toe the mark now."

"What'd you do to him?"