Double Challenge Part 26

"Not at all."

He lighted a pipe and sat puffing on it while Ted steered expertly through Lorton's hunting season traffic. A happy warmth enveloped him.

He liked most people, but very few times in his life had he been drawn so close to one on such short acquaintance. John Wilson was probably ten years older than Al, but far from doddering. He was that rare person whom age has made mellow rather than caustic.

Then they were on the Lorton Road and started into the Mahela. John Wilson spoke for the first time since leaving the station.

"They crowd in."

"For deer season they do," Ted agreed. "The day after it ends, you could shoot a cannon down Main Street and never hit a person."

They pa.s.sed a tent set up beside the road, and a gasoline lantern burning inside gave its walls a ghostly translucence. There was a neat pile of wood beside it and wood smoke drifted from a tin pipe that curled through the wall. The car in which the campers had come was backed off the road. It was a good camp and as they pa.s.sed Ted was aware that John Wilson knew it was good. But he said nothing, and Ted had the impression that he did not talk unless he had something worthwhile to say.

A quarter mile beyond the camp, the truck's probing lights reflected from the startlingly bright eyes of a deer. Ted slowed. Deer were always running back and forth across the road and, since bright lights dazzled them, they would not always get out of the way. They came closer and the lights revealed very clearly a magnificent buck.

So alert that every muscle was tense, he stood broadside. One rear leg was a bit ahead of the other, the animal was poised for instant flight.

His antlers were big and branching, and in the car lights they looked perfectly symmetrical. It was a splendid creature, one that would command attention anywhere. After ten seconds, it leaped into the forest and disappeared.

John Wilson said, "A nice head."

He spoke as though the buck had delighted and warmed him, but there was in his voice none of the babbling enthusiasm which some hunters, upon seeing such a buck, might express. Obviously, he had seen big bucks before.

Ted commented, "He was a darn' big buck."

"As big," and a smile lurked in John Wilson's voice, "as your Damon and Pythias?"

Ted answered firmly, "No sir. He was not."

"Then I am in the right place?"

"I hope so, Mr. Wilson."

"It'd be just as simple to call me John."

Ted grinned. "All right, John."

They pa.s.sed more tents and trailers, swerved to miss a wild-eyed doe that almost jumped into the truck. Finally, Ted drove thankfully up the Harkness driveway. The house was stocked with everything they needed, and as far as he was concerned, he was willing to stay there until deer season ended. At any rate, he hoped he'd have to do no more night driving.

He escorted his guest in, snapped the light on and waited for what he thought was coming next. It came. John Wilson glanced about and he needed no more than a glance. It was enough to tell him what was here and his voice said he liked it.

"You do all right for yourself."

"Glad you like it. If you'll make yourself at home, I'll have something to eat rustled up in a little while."

"Let me help you."

"It's a one-man job."

John Wilson reclined in an easy chair while Ted went into the kitchen.

He put a great slab of b.u.t.ter in a skillet, let it brown, seasoned the brace of woodc.o.c.k, put them into the pan, covered it and turned the flame lower. He prepared a fresh pot of coffee, biscuits, potatoes and a vegetable. All the while, he waited nervously for Tammie to whine at the door. There'd have to be some nice timing when the collie returned. Ted must slip out, strip the harness off and let the dog in without letting John Wilson know he'd worn a harness.

When the meal was ready and Tammie still had not come, Ted's nervousness mounted. The dog was a half hour late already. What could have happened out in the Mahela? Ted put the dinner on the table and tried to sound casual as he announced, "Chow's ready."

"This is 'chow'?" John Wilson chided him. "b.u.t.ter-browned woodc.o.c.k is deserving of a better name. Let me at it!"

He cut a slice of the dark breast and began to eat it. "_Mm-m!_ That's good! Something wrong, Ted?"

"Yes--uh--That is, no."

"You're nervous as a wet cat."

"My dog's out and I'm a little worried about--There he is now! Go right ahead and eat."

Tammie's whine sounded again and Ted slipped out the back door. Hastily he knelt to strip the harness off and take Al's note from the pocket.

Then he threw the harness aside--he'd get it in the early morning--tucked the note in his pocket and, with Tammie beside him, went into the house. John Wilson stopped eating to admire.

"That's a beautiful collie. What's his name?"

"Tammie, and he's just as good as he looks."

Tammie sniffed delicately at their guest, received a pat on the head and went to stretch out on his bearskin. John Wilson glanced at him again.

"Aren't you afraid to let him run?"

"After tomorrow, poor Tammie will be confined to quarters until deer season ends."

John Wilson nodded. "That's wise, some hunters will shoot at anything.

What time do you plan to get out in the morning?"

"Whenever you care to leave."

"Isn't it traditional for hunters to be in the woods at dawn?"

"That's right."

"Then let's not violate revered custom. Where do these two big bucks hang out?"

"They've been on Burned Mountain for a long while. Hunters may put them off there and then again they may not."

"Where do they lurk during deer season?"

"n.o.body knows exactly," Ted admitted. "They've been seen in a dozen parts of the Mahela. Sometimes they've been 'seen' in a dozen different places at the same hour on the same day. We'll just have to plan as we go along."

"That suits me. I'll help with the dishes."

"I'll do them."

"You'll spoil me!"

"Take it easy while you can. You're in for some rough days."