7
A FLIGHT OF WOODCOCK
The sheriff stood tall in the doorway, his face unreadable, while at thesame time he seemed to strain forward like an eager hound on a hotscent.
Disconcerted, showing it and aware that he showed it, Ted fought forself-possession. He said, "Well hello."
"Hello, Ted." Callahan was not unfriendly. "How are things?"
Ted tried to cover his confusion with a shrug. "Not much change."
"You seem," Callahan was looking narrowly at him, "a bit nervous."
"Is that strange?"
"Guess not." Callahan was too casual. "It's probably a nerve-wrackingbusiness. Uh--thought I heard you talking?"
"You might have. I was talking to Tammie."
"Your dog, eh?"
"That's right."
"I don't see him around."
"I just let him out the back door. He likes to go for a little run atnight."
"I'm darned," Callahan said, "if I didn't think I caught a glimpse ofyou letting him out. Tammie looked awful big."
"He's a big dog."
Just how much had Callahan seen? Definitely, a pack-laden collie was notgoing camping and Callahan would know where it was going. The sheriffdropped into a chair and crossed his right leg over his left knee.
"I know he's big, I've seen him before. But he sure looked bigger thanusual. That's a mighty good dog, Ted."
"Yes, he is."
"Highly-trained, too, isn't he? That dog will do almost anything youwant him to, won't he?"
"Oh, sure," Ted said sarcastically. "Every night he sets his own alarmfor five o'clock. Then he lays and lights a fire so the house will bewarm when I get out of bed."
"Aw now, Ted!" Callahan said reproachfully. "You know darn' well what Imean! Why only the other night I found Silly Ass Stacey running down theroad like a haunt was chasing him. 'Don't go up there!' he told me.'Don't go up to Harknesses! They have a man-eating dog and it just ateme!'"
Doubtless unintentionally, Callahan had given something away. TheHarkness house was being closely watched or the sheriff wouldn't havebeen on the Lorton Road at the hour when Sammy ran down it. In fullcontrol of himself now, Ted did not let himself reveal what he had justlearned. He said grimly, "Sammy was in our chicken coop."
"_Hm-m._ Want me to pick him up for it?"
"I doubt if he'll be as fond of chicken stealing from now on. Tammieknocked him down and did a little snarling over him. He didn't hurthim."
Callahan grinned. "Figured that out all by myself; nobody who'd mostbeen eaten could run as fast as Silly Ass was running. Hope it doesteach him a lesson; if he gets rid of his oversized notions, he won't beanything except a harmless sort of nut. Jail might make him vicious. Butthat's what I mean about your dog. You've really got him trained."
"I spend a lot of time training him."
"You have to if you want results, but it's worth it. You have a dog youcan really work."
"There are limits."
"Of course. Of course there are. A dog's a dog. But I'll bet," Callahanlooked squarely at Ted, "that Tammie would even go find your father ifyou told him to."
"You're sure?"
"Well, who could be sure? But I admire trained dogs no end and yours isthe best I ever saw. Call him back, will you? I'd like to see himagain."
"I--" Ted hesitated and hated himself because Callahan noticed hishesitation. "I don't know if I can. Tammie takes some pretty longrambles at night and he may be out of hearing."
"You'll have Loring on your tail if he bothers game."
"Tammie doesn't bother anything unless he's ordered to do it."
Callahan said admiringly, "That's where training comes in. This couldeven be a story!"
"What could?"
"Why, your dad laying out in the Mahela. He doesn't have any grub exceptthe load he cooked the night Loring and I were here--and wasn't I thedope not to see through that? He needs about everything. You can't takeit to him because you could be followed. But you have a big, strong,well-trained dog. You, oh you might even make a pack for him. Then youload the pack and send it to your dad. Who's going to follow Tammie? Getit?"
Ted looked at the floor. Coming at exactly the wrong second, Callahanhad seen enough to rouse suspicion but not enough to be sure ofanything. The boy conceded, "It's a story all right."
"Could even be a _true_ story, huh?"
"You're doing the guessing."
"Oh, well," Callahan shrugged, "I didn't come here to bother you. But Isure would like to see that dog of yours again and I haven't much time.Call him back, will you?"
Both hands in front of him, fingers tightly locked, Ted walked to theback door. When Tammie took anything to Al, he usually ran. If he hadrun this time, and kept on running, he would be out of hearing. If hewas not out of hearing, he would come back. Ted hoped Callahan didn'tsee him gulp. If Tammie returned with the pack, it would be all theevidence Callahan needed that the dog could find Al. But not to call himwould serve only to convince the sheriff, anyhow, that Tammie was on hisway to Al.
Ted opened the back door and whistled. He waited a moment, whistledagain and closed the door behind him.
"He'll come if he heard."
"And if he didn't," Callahan commented, "he's a long way back in theMahela, huh?"
"That's right."
"Now that's strange," the sheriff mused. "I know a little about dogs.You take an airedale, for example. He'll make long tracks, if he gets achance. But I always thought a collie was pretty much the home type. Inever figured they'd get very far from their doorsteps. Unless, ofcourse, maybe it's a trained collie that's sent away."
"Dogs vary."
"Of course, of course. There's no rule says two of any one breed have tobe alike. Couple of years ago, over beyond Taylorville, we had to get apack that was running wild and, believe it or not, there was a Bostonbull with them. Now who'd think a Boston bull--What's that?"
"I--I didn't hear anything."
"Well, I did. Ah! There it is again!"
A second time, and unmistakably, Tammie's distinctive whine sounded atthe back door. Ted's heart plummeted to his toes and his throat wentdry. He was about to rise and let Tammie in--the only thing he coulddo--but he was forestalled by Jack Callahan.
"There he is. He heard you, all right. I'll let him in."
He walked to the back door ... opened it. Ted hoped his gasp was not asloud as it seemed. Wearing no pack, Tammie came sedately in, greetedCallahan with a wag of his tail and tripped across the floor to sit downbeside his master. The boy bent his head to conceal ecstatic eyes.Poker-faced Callahan showed nothing of what he must be feeling.
"Just as handsome as I remember him!" he said admiringly. "That dog's areal credit to you, Ted!"
"He has just one little flaw," Ted said gravely. "Sometimes he thinks hesees things he never saw at all."
Callahan grinned engagingly. "Some people make that mistake, too.Especially when there's deep shadow. How are you making out, Ted?"
"All right. My camp's rented for five weeks and I may rent it forwoodcock season, if the flight comes in."
"Loring told me there's flight birds at Taylorville. He said there'squite a few, and he thinks there'll be a big flight."
"Hope it comes here!"
Callahan said soberly, "If it'll help you, so do I. I'm sorry you're introuble."
"Trouble comes."
"I know, but being the sheriff who makes it isn't the snap job it'scracked up to be. I've had to hurt a lot of people I'd rather notbother, but when I swore to uphold the law, I didn't make any exceptionsand I'm not going to make any. I hope you don't hold that against me."
"I don't."
"Just so you understand. A lot of people who cuss peace officers wouldfind out for themselves what a mess they'd be in if there weren't any."
"I know that, too."
"Then you know why I must bring your dad in. When I do, and I will,he'll get every break I'm able to offer. By the same token, SmokyDelbert may have some bre
aks coming. So long for now, Ted."
"So long."
Callahan left and Ted was alone with Tammie. He tickled the big dog'ssoft ears.
"The Lord watches over idiots!" he murmured. "He sure enough does!"
What had happened was obvious. Disliking the pack anyway, Tammie hadn'tgone more than a couple of hundred feet before ridding himself of it.Only he knew how he'd unclasped the buckles, but he'd managed. Ofcourse, when ordered to do so, he should have gone to Al. But he couldbe forgiven this time.
"I'd best get to bed," Ted told him. "I don't know where you left thatpack, but do know I'd better find it before Mr. Callahan comes back thisway. That man has sixteen eyes, and don't ever let's think he's dumb! Hecame right close to tipping over our meat house tonight!"
Ted was up an hour before dawn and had breakfasted by the time the firstpale light of day began to lift night's shroud from the great beechtrees. With Tammie at his side, he stepped out the back door and formeda plan of action.
He didn't know exactly how much time had passed between his whistle andTammie's appearance at the door, but it couldn't have been more thanfifteen or twenty seconds. Certainly the collie had needed some littletime to rid himself of the pack. It couldn't possibly be far from thecabin. Ted petted the dog.
"You lost it," he scolded gently. "Why don't you find it?"
Tammie raced ahead twenty yards, whirled, came back to leap at and snaphis jaws within a quarter inch of Ted's right hand, then flew awayagain. He continued running around and around, stopping at intervals tosnap. But though he never missed very much, he never hit either.
Ted walked slowly, on a course parallel to the cabin, and he turned hishead from side to side as he walked. There were no thickets or windfallshere. There was nothing at all except the big beeches. Wherever Tammiehad dropped it, the pack wouldn't be hard to see.
Descending into a little swale, Ted flushed three woodcock out of it.Their distinctive, twittering whistle, which Ted had always thought wasmade by wind rushing through stiff flight feathers, sounded as theyflew. The boy's eyes glowed with pleasure.
The ruffed grouse was a marvelous game bird and nobody who knew himwell, or even fairly well, would ever deny it. But there was a veryspecial group--Ted himself belonged to it--who held the woodcock inhighest esteem. Swift-winged and sporty, the woodcock had an air ofmystery and romance possessed by few other wild things.
Measuring eleven inches, from the tip of his bill to the end of histail, the woodcock's plumage varied from black to gray, with differentshades of brown predominant. So perfectly did they blend with theirsurroundings that, even though a hunter might watch a flying woodcockalight on the ground, he was often not able to see it afterwards. Theirlegs were short and their bills, with which they probed into soft earthfor the various larvae and worms upon which they fed, were ridiculouslylong. But their eyes remained their outstanding characteristic.
Placed near the top of the head, they were luminous and expressive, asthough, somehow, they mirrored all of nature. They were very large inproportion to the bird's size. Whoever saw them would never forget themand who knew the woodcock knew one of the finest and most delightful ofall wild creatures.
Ted marked the trio down, but he did not approach them again. The seasonwas not open, and nobody could ever be sure of woodcock. Perhaps thesewere stragglers. Maybe they marked the vanguard of a big flight thatwould be in the Mahela when the season opened and maybe they didn't.He'd have to wait and see and, even then, neither he nor anyone elsecould be sure. Cover that might be alive with woodcock one day could beempty, or hold only a few birds, the next. During the night, everywoodcock had often picked up and moved on.
When he'd gone as far as he thought he should, Ted moved twenty-fiveyards deeper into the woods and swung back on a course parallel to theone he'd followed. He began to worry.
The pack couldn't possibly be far because Tammie hadn't had time to gofar. It was good sized, so it should be easy to see. Ted made anotherswing about. Two hours after he had started hunting, he stopped. He wasa half mile from the house, definitely the extreme limit Tammie mighthave reached. The boy went back to cover the same area morecarefully.... He went through it a third time. By midday, he was whollybaffled.
The pack was not here. Where was it? Had Jack Callahan, nobody's fool,seen more than he had admitted seeing? Had he slipped back after leavingTed and found the pack himself? It seemed improbable. Recovery of thepack, so obviously for a dog and not for a man to wear, would be proofwithin itself that Ted had intended to send Tammie to Al. And ifCallahan had the least reason to suppose that Tammie could really findAl, he'd be in the house right now, insisting that he do it. Ted pettedthe collie.
"Why can't you talk?" he murmured. "Why can't you tell me what you didwith it?"
Tammie licked his master's fingers and wagged his tail. Ted sighed. He'dlooked in all the places where the pack might be and hadn't found it. Itstood to reason that nobody else was going to find it either, or atleast, they wouldn't find it easily. Still worried, Ted went back to thehouse and fixed a lunch. He thought of looking for the pack some moreand decided against it. There was no other place to look but there werethings to do. He hadn't been at the camp since the night Al was accusedof shooting Smoky. If he intended to rent it to hunters, he'd better gosee how things were.
Ted chose to walk, for he had been doing a great deal of seriousthinking and had changed many of his ideas. Running a successful resort,or even a successful camp, involved a great deal more than just being agracious host. In any city, or even any town, such a camp probablywouldn't rent at all because it was so radically different from whaturban residents had come to expect in their dwellings. But it fitted theMahela, and for a short time each year, it would be appreciated becauseit offered a refreshing change from conventional living. But there wasstill more involved.
Few people wanted to get into the out-of-doors merely for the sake ofbeing there. The place must offer something, and beyond any doubt theMahela's prime attraction was its deer herds. But nobody, regardless ofwhether he was running Crestwood or renting camps, could hope to make aliving just from the three-week deer season alone. He would also have tolure all the small game hunters and all the fishermen he could, and ifhe didn't lure them honestly, they'd never come back. It stood to reasonthat nobody who lived a couple of hundred miles from the Mahela couldknow what was taking place there. They must be kept informed, and Tedwished to walk now because he wanted to judge for himself whether or notthere would be a worthwhile flight of woodcock.
The birds might be anywhere at all. Ted had flushed them from the verysummit of Hawkbill. But as a rule they avoided the thickest cover andhaunted the streams, bogs and swamps because they found their foodalong stream beds and in swamps. With Tammie trailing happily besidehim. Ted followed the course of Spinning Creek.
He flushed two woodcock from a sparse growth of aspens and watched themwing away and settle on the other side of the creek. Then he put up asingle and, farther on, a little flock of five. In the clearing, almostat the camp's door, another single whistled away and dropped nearTumbling Run. That made nine woodcock between the Harkness house and thecamp. Definitely it was not a substantial flight and no hunter should beadvised to come to the Mahela because of them. But there were more thanthere had been.
A doe and two spring fawns were nosing about the apple trees. Bears hadbeen climbing the same trees, leaving scarred trunks and broken branchesin their wake. Black bears, of which there were a fair number in theMahela, would come almost as far for apples as they would for honey. Butthey came only at night and did a lot of damage when they climbed thetrees. However, these tough apple trees had been broken by bears everyyear they'd borne a crop and they'd always recovered. They'd recoveragain, and Ted supposed bears had as much right as anything else to theapples. He grinned. The fruit was gnarled and wormy, but it was awoodland delicacy and woodland dwellers competed for it as fiercely as acrowd of undisciplined children might compete for a rack of ice-creamco
nes.
Ted walked all around the camp, saw nothing amiss and unlocked the door.He pulled the hasp back, went in--and saw Tammie's pack lying under thetable. Momentarily alarmed, he stopped. Only one person could have leftthe pack! He picked it up and thrust his hand into a side pocket. Hefound and pulled out a page torn from the pad of paper he'd inserted inthe pack and read the penciled note.
Dear Ted; I was cuming to see you last nite. Tammy met me a sniff from the dor and I snuck up and saw Calhan. Gess he wants to see me rite enuf but I don't want to see him!
Hope taking Tammy's pak don't throw you off.
I can get along a good spel with the stuf in the pak and wudcok seson cuming on. I've saw a mess of flite wudcok. Don't send Tammy agen without you know it's safe and send him after midnite. I won't be so far away he can't get to me and bak. Watch Calhan. He's sharp.
Your dad
P.S. I got the kyote.
Ted heaved a mighty sigh of thanksgiving. Al had the pack's contents andthere were three blankets missing from the camp. For the first time, thedark clouds that surged around the boy revealed their silver lining. Alwas still a fugitive, but he had enough to eat and he was sleeping underblankets. It seemed a great deal.
Ted read the note again and smiled over it. A hunted outlaw, Al wasstill abiding by the principles in which he believed. He might have beenjustified in killing game for food, but the reference to woodcock seasonindicated that he had done no such thing. Possibly--Ted remembered thathe had his coyote traps--he had caught a bobcat or so. The season wasnever closed on bobcats and, if one could overcome naturalsqueamishness, they were really delicious eating. Ted lifted the stovelid, put the note within, applied a lighted match, waited until thepaper burned to ashes, then used the lid lifter to pound the ashes todust.
He looked fondly at Tammie, who had been nowise derelict. Ordered to goto Al, he had done exactly that and it was none of Tammie's doing if Alhad been within a "sniff" of his own back door.
Ted said cheerfully, "Guess we'll go home, Tammie. But we'll come backfor the pack tonight, Mr. Callahan, or some of his friends, probablywill be patroling here and there."
That night there were three more letters, two from deer hunters whowanted the camp the usual first two weeks of the season and one from agrouse hunter who wanted the first week. Ted advised them of the camp'spresent status, put his letters in the mailbox and lifted the red flagto let the carrier know there was mail to pick up. The next night therewere five letters, two of which had been sent airmail. Ted opened thefirst.
Dear Mr. Harkness: Your letter intrigued us no end. We haven't seen a good flight of woodcock for ten years and didn't think there was any such thing any more. Should they come in, by all means call me and reverse the charges. My business phone is TR 5-4397; my home is LA 2-0489. Call either place and we'll start an hour afterwards. There'll be seven of us, and I enclose a ten-dollar check as deposit.
Cordially, George Beaulieu
The second airmail letter read:
Bless you, Ted! You've started me dreaming of Damon and/or Pythias. One or the other will do, but nothing else, please! By your own invitation, you're stuck with me for the full twenty-one days. I'll see you the day before the season opens.
Gratefully, John L. Wilson
There was a check for a hundred dollars enclosed and almost grimly Tedfolded both checks in his wallet. He'd have to spend some money forfood, but not a great deal. The freezer was almost full and much of thegarden remained to be harvested. He stared at the far wall.
He had not planned it this way. He had looked forward to a happyventure, to enjoying and helping his guests, and if he made money in sodoing, that would be fine. Had things turned out as he'd planned, therewas already enough money in sight to build and equip another camp. Butthat was not to be. Al had to come out of the Mahela some time. When hedid, they were in for a fight, and money would be a powerful weapon inthat all-out battle. They must win, and anything else must be secondary.
The other three letters were from deer hunters who wanted the camp thefirst two weeks of the season.
Ted devoted the next fortnight to harvesting the garden. He dug thepotatoes, emptied them in the cellar bin and stacked squash and pumpkinsbeside them. Bunches of carrots and turnips were stored in another bin,and shelled beans were put in sacks.
Almost every mail brought more letters, and two out of three were fromdeer hunters. Ted rented his camp for the season's third week. Maybenobody could make a living from deer hunters alone, but anybody who hadenough camps, perhaps ten or twelve, could certainly earn a decent sumof money from just deer hunters.
The Mahela changed its green summer dress for autumn's gaudy raiment andthe frosts came. Woodcock continued to drift in, and two days before theseason opened, they arrived in force. Where there had been one, therewere thirty, and still they came. Ted drove into Lorton and called fromthe drugstore.
"Mr. Beaulieu?"
"Yes?"
"This is Ted Harkness, Mr. Beaulieu. The woodcock are in."
"A big flight?"
"The biggest in years."
"We'll be there tomorrow," George Beaulieu said happily. "Hold the campfor us!"
"I'll do that, and anybody in Lorton can tell you where to find me."
"Thanks for calling. We'll be seeing you."
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