Double Challenge Part 5

"What isn't?"

Al grinned ruefully, "Seems like yesterday I worked here."

"You worked at the old Hawley logging camp?"

"Yep. Ch.o.r.e boy. Got up at four every mornin' to feed and curry the horses so they'd be ready to go into the woods. You wouldn't think fifteen men, or fourteen men and a boy, ate and slept in that old house, would you?"

"It's big enough."

"By gosh! Seems like a person gets born, takes six breaths and gets old.

That old house is still good, though. Those boards are really seasoned and I bet they last another hundred years."

Ted asked without much interest, "What happened?"

"Old Man Hawley sold everything 'cept that little patch when the state took over and made the Mahela into state forest. Jud, his son, was goin'

to make a huntin' camp of it. But he never did and he never will. Bet you could buy the works for a hundred and fifty dollars."

Ted almost yelled, "Dad!"

"What's the matter? Bee sting you?"

"No, but something else did! Dad, I'm going to buy it!"

"That?" Al looked puzzled.

"Don't you see?" Ted's eyes were shining and Al knew his heart was singing. "With more and more people coming into the Mahela every year, they must have more places to stay. I'm going to tear this house down and build a camp right here! Bet it'll rent five months out of the year!"

"Well, I'll be jugged!" Al hoped Ted couldn't interpret his smile. "That _is_ an idea!"

"We'll buy them all!" Ted bubbled, "with the money you were going to use to send me to college! There're plenty of these small plots in the Mahela and n.o.body else wants them! They can be had cheaply! Dad, it can be done that way!"

"By gosh, Ted, it might! But it'll take a while."

"I know but--What's Tammie barking at?"

"One way to find out is to go see."

Off in the goldenrod, Tammie barked again. They made their way to him and found him peering into a shallow little stream, Tumbling Run, that wound out of the beeches, crossed the clearing and hurried back into the beeches, on its way to meet Spinning Creek. In the middle of the run, a small gray racc.o.o.n with a trap on its left front paw did not even glance up. It had fought the trap fiercely and now was too spent and too weary to fight anything.

Al's words were almost an explosion. "Smoky Delbert!"

He jumped down into the creek, encircled the little racc.o.o.n's neck with an expert hand and used his free hand to depress the trap spring. Free, but not quite believing it, the little animal went exactly as far as the trap chain had previously let him go and then ventured two inches farther. Sure at last that the miracle had happened, he scuttled into the goldenrod. Al jerked the trap loose from its anchor.

"Let's go, Ted."

"Where?"

"You want to buy this place. We'll go into Lorton and see Jud Hawley.

But on the way, we'll have a little palaver with Smoky."

A half hour later, Al drove his pickup into the Delbert yard, to find another truck there ahead of him. It belonged to Loring Blade, the warden, who was talking with Smoky. He turned to nod at Al and Ted.

"Hi!"

Al said, "I won't be but a minute, Lorin'." He held the steel trap out to Smoky Delbert. "This yours?"

Smoky looked at him through insolent, half-closed eyes. "Nope."

"You lie in your teeth! I've told you before not to set traps before furs are prime. I'm tellin' you again and this is the last time."

"What goes on?" Blade demanded.

"Nothin' you can help, Lorin'. Smoky, if I find you poachin' in the Mahela once more, I'm goin' to beat you within an inch of your life!"

"You got any ideas along that line," Smoky remained insolent, "come shootin'."

Al said, "I can do that, too!"

3

THE CAMP

Sprawled on his favorite bearskin in the Harkness living room, Tammie dreamed a dog's good dreams and his paws twitched with excitement as he lived again some old adventure. Al, sitting in front of the fireplace, studied the bed of glowing coals within it as though they were as fascinating as the first coals he had ever seen. Sitting at the table with a pen in his hand, a pile of fresh paper on one side and a pile of crumpled sheets on the other, Ted was busy writing.

He laid the pen down, picked up what he had just written and frowned over it. Making a motion to crumple this paper too, he thought better of it and called, "How's this, Dad? 'For Rent, furnished camp in the Mahela. Bunks for eight. Forty-five dollars a week in small game season, sixty in deer season. Available for season. Ted Harkness, R.D. 2, Lorton.'"

Al shrugged. "Says 'bout everythin' you got to say."

"I don't know." Ted's frown deepened. "'Bunks for eight,' it says. If a bunch of deer hunters take the place, they may bring twelve or sixteen.

Do you think I should say, 'Bring extra cots for more than eight?'"

"Mighty important point," Al said gravely, "but do you figure you got to throw out that much sign?

"If I was readin' that and wanted to rent a camp and saw 'bunks for eight,' I'd calc'late that there wasn't bunks for ten or sixteen. I'd figger that, if I brought more than eight, I'd best bring somethin' for 'em to sleep on."

"If I say 'accommodations for eight,' and a bigger party wanted to take the camp, they might pa.s.s it up."

"'Bunks' is the word," Al p.r.o.nounced. "Why it's pra'tically liter-choor.

City people are always gettin' accommodations. Might help rent your camp if they knew they was goin' to sleep on bunks."

"That's a point," Ted agreed. He continued to frown thoughtfully. "Now this 'available for season,' do you think I should say at ten per cent discount?"

"Nope."