Double Challenge Part 25

Paul Jackson knelt, rested his right elbow on his right knee, raised his rifle--and Ted groaned silently. The youngster's stance was perfect, but so was his buck fever. The rifle shook like an aspen leaf in a high wind. It blasted, and Ted saw the bullet kick up leaves twenty feet to one side of the sleeping bear.

The bear sprang up as though launched from a catapult and kept on springing. Straight up the slope he went, and across the nearly treeless summit.

Ted shouted, "Shoot!"

"Did you say shoot?"

Paul Jackson was still in a daze, bewildered by this thing that could not be but was. The bear was four hundred yards away when he raised his rifle a second time, shot and succeeded only in speeding the running beast on its way. He lowered his rifle and muttered, "I guess I'm not a very good hunter."

"n.o.body connects every time."

The bear was running full speed toward the old mine tunnel. Surprised, its first thought had been to put distance between the hunter and itself, but now it was planning very well. The old tunnel had one outlet that led into a dense thicket of laurel. Certainly the bear knew all about this and he would go into the thicket. Definitely, he was lost to the young hunter.

Then, within the mouth of the old tunnel itself, another rifle cracked spitefully. The running bear swapped ends, rolled over and lay still.

Alex Jackson emerged from the tunnel.

Twenty minutes later, when Paul and Ted reached him, he was sitting quietly beside his trophy and looking at it with unbelieving eyes. But they were wonderfully happy eyes. Long ago he had dreamed his dream.

Now--and probably it never had been before and never would be again in hunting annals--he had seen it come true. He looked dreamily up at Ted and Paul and his voice was proof that, whether it's bringing down a bear, shooting a hole-in-one, or playing a perfect game of chess, any dream can be as bright as the dreamer makes it.

"It charged," he said.

10

DAMON

In the parking lot beside Lorton's little railway station, Ted sprawled wearily in his pickup truck.

It had taken much of the day to bring Alex Jackson's bear out of Carter Valley. The animal might have been skinned where it fell, cut up and brought out piece by piece, but not one of the young hunters would hear of such a thing. They had come a long way and worked hard for this trophy; they would take it with them intact. It had been necessary to do things the hard way.

Dragging it would have injured the fine pelt, so Ted had lashed its feet to a long pole and put a man on each end. The start had been easy, but game carried in such a fas.h.i.+on has an astonis.h.i.+ng way of adding weight.

By the time they'd traveled a quarter of a mile, instead of a mere 250, the bear weighed at least 2500 pounds, and the panting carriers were relieving each other every fifty paces.

Finally, they'd reached an old tote road up which Ted could drive with his pickup and the rest had been easy. They'd lashed the bear on Alex Jackson's car and six exhausted but happy youngsters had piled in to begin their long journey homewards.

Ted grinned to himself. He'd spent a week with the Jackson party solely because he'd thought they would get into trouble if he did not. No guide's fee had been expected or asked, but, just the same, it might have been good business. The fathers of three of the youngsters were ardent hunters themselves. Ted had been a.s.sured over and over again that they'd hear about the Mahela and be directed to Ted, far and away the world's best guide. The youngsters were certainly coming back for fis.h.i.+ng season and to spend part of their summer in the Mahela and they'd want the cabin.

Ted's grin faded. Next year there might not be any cabin to rent. He stretched wearily in the darkness and yawned.

He'd reached home just in time to pack Tammie and send him on what must be his last visit to Al until deer season ended. Sending him so early might have been taking a chance, but when Ted next returned home he'd have a guest with him, and letting anyone else see the packed Tammie would surely be taking more of a chance. Ted had fixed a meal for himself, taken two woodc.o.c.k from the freezer and put them in cold water to thaw. Then he had driven in to meet John Wilson.

The little station's windows looked as though they hadn't been washed for the past nine months and probably they hadn't. Lights glowed dully behind them, and the clicking of the telegrapher's key sounded intermittently. Ted looked about.

The parking lot was full, and the night before deer season opened was the only time throughout the whole year when it ever was. Though by far most of the deer hunters came by car, some traveled by train from wherever they lived to the city of Dartsburg, sixty miles away. Then they came to Lorton on what some of the local wags described as the "tri-weekly"--it went down one week and tried to come back the next.

Actually, it was a daily train, and in spite of a superfluity of jokes and near-jokes about it, it kept a tight schedule.

When Ted's watch read ten past seven, he left the pickup and went to stand in the shadows on the waiting platform. The drivers of other cars joined him, and here and there a little group of men engaged in conversation. Then the train's whistle announced its approach and every eye turned down the tracks.

Ordinarily, the train pulled a combined baggage and mail car and one coach, but on this eventful night a second coach had been resurrected from somewhere and every window gleamed. The train hissed to a halt and hunters started piling off. Without exception, they were dressed in hunting gear; red coats, red caps and whatever they fancied in the way of trousers and footwear. They lugged everything from suitcases to rucksacks and, invariably, either strapped to the luggage or carried in a free hand, rifles were in evidence.

The men waiting on the platform went forward to greet hunters they knew and bundled them off to cars. Jimmy Deeks, Lorton's only taxi driver, called his "Taxi!" just once and was stampeded by a dozen hunters who wanted to go to a hotel or motel. There was some little argument and, after promising to return for the rest, Jimmy went off with as many hunters as his cab would hold.

The arriving crowd thinned rapidly and Ted looked with some bewilderment on those who were left. He'd never seen John Wilson and hadn't the faintest idea as to the sort of man he must look for.

Certainly he'd be alone, and the only hunters left were in groups of three or more. Then Dan Taylor, the station agent, pa.s.sed and saw Ted.

"Hi, Ted."

"Hi, Dan."

"Waitin' for somebody?"

"Yup."

"Well if he ain't on this train, he's sure walkin'!"

The station agent guffawed at his own not very subtle humor and moved on. A second later, a man detached himself from one of the groups and approached Ted. He was not tall, even in hunting boots he lacked five and a half inches of Ted's six feet. He wore a red-plaid jacket, a red-checked cap and black wool trousers that tucked into his boots. In his right hand was a leather suitcase and in his left he carried a cased rifle. Despite the gray hair that escaped from beneath his cap, he walked with a light and firm tread and humor glinted in his eyes.

He asked, "Are you Ted Harkness?"

"That's right."

The man put his suitcase down and thrust out his right hand. "I'm John Wilson."

Ted shook the proffered hand. "I--I thought you'd be different."

"Don't let my grotesque appearance frighten you. I'm harmless."

Ted blurted out, "You said in your letter that you're a doddering _old_ man."

"Ten years older than Methuselah." John Wilson laughed and the sound was good to hear. "I'm glad to know you, Ted."

"And I you. Shall we get out to the house?"

"If you don't mind, I'd like to grab a bite to eat. The dining car on the Limited was crowded and I couldn't get in."

"The cafes will be crowded and we'll have to wait. I'll fix you something, if you want to come along now."

"Fine!"

Ted picked up the suitcase, escorted John Wilson to the pickup and put the luggage in the rear. About to open the door for his guest, he was forestalled when John Wilson opened it himself and climbed in. Ted settled in the driver's seat.

"Mind if I smoke?" John Wilson asked.