10
DAMON
In the parking lot beside Lorton's little railway station, Ted sprawledwearily in his pickup truck.
It had taken much of the day to bring Alex Jackson's bear out of CarterValley. The animal might have been skinned where it fell, cut up andbrought out piece by piece, but not one of the young hunters would hearof such a thing. They had come a long way and worked hard for thistrophy; they would take it with them intact. It had been necessary to dothings the hard way.
Dragging it would have injured the fine pelt, so Ted had lashed its feetto a long pole and put a man on each end. The start had been easy, butgame carried in such a fashion has an astonishing 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 wererelieving each other every fifty paces.
Finally, they'd reached an old tote road up which Ted could drive withhis pickup and the rest had been easy. They'd lashed the bear on AlexJackson's car and six exhausted but happy youngsters had piled in tobegin their long journey homewards.
Ted grinned to himself. He'd spent a week with the Jackson party solelybecause he'd thought they would get into trouble if he did not. Noguide's fee had been expected or asked, but, just the same, it mighthave been good business. The fathers of three of the youngsters wereardent hunters themselves. Ted had been assured over and over again thatthey'd hear about the Mahela and be directed to Ted, far and away theworld's best guide. The youngsters were certainly coming back forfishing season and to spend part of their summer in the Mahela andthey'd want the cabin.
Ted's grin faded. Next year there might not be any cabin to rent. Hestretched wearily in the darkness and yawned.
He'd reached home just in time to pack Tammie and send him on what mustbe his last visit to Al until deer season ended. Sending him so earlymight have been taking a chance, but when Ted next returned home he'dhave a guest with him, and letting anyone else see the packed Tammiewould surely be taking more of a chance. Ted had fixed a meal forhimself, taken two woodcock from the freezer and put them in cold waterto thaw. Then he had driven in to meet John Wilson.
The little station's windows looked as though they hadn't been washedfor the past nine months and probably they hadn't. Lights glowed dullybehind them, and the clicking of the telegrapher's key soundedintermittently. Ted looked about.
The parking lot was full, and the night before deer season opened wasthe only time throughout the whole year when it ever was. Though by farmost of the deer hunters came by car, some traveled by train fromwherever they lived to the city of Dartsburg, sixty miles away. Thenthey 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 jokesand near-jokes about it, it kept a tight schedule.
When Ted's watch read ten past seven, he left the pickup and went tostand in the shadows on the waiting platform. The drivers of other carsjoined him, and here and there a little group of men engaged inconversation. Then the train's whistle announced its approach and everyeye turned down the tracks.
Ordinarily, the train pulled a combined baggage and mail car and onecoach, but on this eventful night a second coach had been resurrectedfrom somewhere and every window gleamed. The train hissed to a halt andhunters started piling off. Without exception, they were dressed inhunting gear; red coats, red caps and whatever they fancied in the wayof trousers and footwear. They lugged everything from suitcases torucksacks and, invariably, either strapped to the luggage or carried ina free hand, rifles were in evidence.
The men waiting on the platform went forward to greet hunters they knewand bundled them off to cars. Jimmy Deeks, Lorton's only taxi driver,called his "Taxi!" just once and was stampeded by a dozen hunters whowanted 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 manyhunters as his cab would hold.
The arriving crowd thinned rapidly and Ted looked with somebewilderment on those who were left. He'd never seen John Wilson andhadn'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 ofthree or more. Then Dan Taylor, the station agent, passed 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 movedon. A second later, a man detached himself from one of the groups andapproached Ted. He was not tall, even in hunting boots he lacked fiveand a half inches of Ted's six feet. He wore a red-plaid jacket, ared-checked cap and black wool trousers that tucked into his boots. Inhis right hand was a leather suitcase and in his left he carried a casedrifle. Despite the gray hair that escaped from beneath his cap, hewalked 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 JohnWilson."
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 soundwas 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 onthe Limited was crowded and I couldn't get in."
"The cafes will be crowded and we'll have to wait. I'll fix yousomething, if you want to come along now."
"Fine!"
Ted picked up the suitcase, escorted John Wilson to the pickup and putthe luggage in the rear. About to open the door for his guest, he wasforestalled when John Wilson opened it himself and climbed in. Tedsettled in the driver's seat.
"Mind if I smoke?" John Wilson asked.
"Not at all."
He lighted a pipe and sat puffing on it while Ted steered expertlythrough Lorton's hunting season traffic. A happy warmth enveloped him.He liked most people, but very few times in his life had he been drawnso close to one on such short acquaintance. John Wilson was probably tenyears older than Al, but far from doddering. He was that rare personwhom age has made mellow rather than caustic.
Then they were on the Lorton Road and started into the Mahela. JohnWilson 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 couldshoot a cannon down Main Street and never hit a person."
They passed a tent set up beside the road, and a gasoline lanternburning inside gave its walls a ghostly translucence. There was a neatpile of wood beside it and wood smoke drifted from a tin pipe thatcurled through the wall. The car in which the campers had come wasbacked off the road. It was a good camp and as they passed Ted was awarethat John Wilson knew it was good. But he said nothing, and Ted had theimpression that he did not talk unless he had something worthwhile tosay.
A quarter mile beyond the camp, the truck's probing lights reflectedfrom the startlingly bright eyes of a deer. Ted slowed. Deer were alwaysrunning back and forth across the road and, since bright lights dazzledthem, they would not always get out of the way. They came closer and thelights revealed very clearly a magnificent buck.
So alert that every muscle was tense, he stood broadside. One rear legwas 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 lookedperfectly symmetrical. It was a splendid creature, one that wouldcommand attention anywhere. After ten seconds, it leaped into the forestand disappeared.
John Wilson said, "A nice head."
He spoke as though the buck had delighted and warmed him, but there wa
sin his voice none of the babbling enthusiasm which some hunters, uponseeing such a buck, might express. Obviously, he had seen big bucksbefore.
Ted commented, "He was a darn' big buck."
"As big," and a smile lurked in John Wilson's voice, "as your Damon andPythias?"
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 passed more tents and trailers, swerved to miss a wild-eyed doethat almost jumped into the truck. Finally, Ted drove thankfully up theHarkness driveway. The house was stocked with everything they needed,and as far as he was concerned, he was willing to stay there until deerseason ended. At any rate, he hoped he'd have to do no more nightdriving.
He escorted his guest in, snapped the light on and waited for what hethought was coming next. It came. John Wilson glanced about and heneeded no more than a glance. It was enough to tell him what was hereand 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 somethingto 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 butter in a skillet, let it brown, seasoned thebrace of woodcock, put them into the pan, covered it and turned theflame lower. He prepared a fresh pot of coffee, biscuits, potatoes and avegetable. All the while, he waited nervously for Tammie to whine at thedoor. There'd have to be some nice timing when the collie returned. Tedmust slip out, strip the harness off and let the dog in without lettingJohn Wilson know he'd worn a harness.
When the meal was ready and Tammie still had not come, Ted's nervousnessmounted. The dog was a half hour late already. What could have happenedout in the Mahela? Ted put the dinner on the table and tried to soundcasual as he announced, "Chow's ready."
"This is 'chow'?" John Wilson chided him. "Butter-browned woodcock isdeserving of a better name. Let me at it!"
He cut a slice of the dark breast and began to eat it. "_Mm-m!_ That'sgood! 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 rightahead and eat."
Tammie's whine sounded again and Ted slipped out the back door. Hastilyhe 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 earlymorning--tucked the note in his pocket and, with Tammie beside him, wentinto 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 andwent 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 deerseason 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 buckshang out?"
"They've been on Burned Mountain for a long while. Hunters may put themoff there and then again they may not."
"Where do they lurk during deer season?"
"Nobody knows exactly," Ted admitted. "They've been seen in a dozenparts of the Mahela. Sometimes they've been 'seen' in a dozen differentplaces at the same hour on the same day. We'll just have to plan as wego 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."
John Wilson resumed sitting in the easy chair. Before Ted washed thedishes, he stole a glance at Al's note.
Ted; I got enuf. Don't send Tammy agen til deer seson ends. I wish your sport luk. I saw one of the big buks on burned mountin today. Gess you'll find both.
Your dad
Ted nodded, satisfied. If Damon and Pythias were still on BurnedMountain, he knew exactly where to go. He touched the note to the flame,waited until it burned to ashes, swept them into a wastebasket andjoined his guest.
John Wilson, looking at the dying embers in the fireplace, askedquietly, "Got your campaign mapped, General?"
"Only the first skirmish. I know--That is, I'm pretty sure that Damonand Pythias are still on Burned Mountain."
"Then at least we'll know where to find them."
"I believe so. Do you mind if I carry a rifle?"
"Why, I hope you do."
"I won't shoot either Damon or Pythias, even if I should get a shot,"Ted promised. "But I would like to get a buck. It helps a lot on themeat bills."
"By all means get one. Pretty warm for this time of year, isn't it?"
"Too warm. Some snow would be a great help."
They exchanged more hunting talk, then went to bed.
An hour before dawn the next morning, after ordering Tammie to stay inthe house, Ted closed the back door behind him and started up Hawkbillwith his guest. He walked slowly, for Hawkbill was a hard climb for ayoung man, even in daylight. Though John Wilson was by no meansdoddering, neither was he young. Ted stopped to rest at judiciousintervals.
The darkness lifted slowly, but it was still a thick curtain of graywhen, in the distance, a fusillade of shots rang out. Ted grimaced. Somefool, who couldn't possibly see what he was shooting at, had shotanyhow. That was one way hunters managed to kill each other instead ofgame.
As daylight became stronger, shots were more frequent. Some quite nearand some far-off, the sounds were a ragged discord, with now four orfive hunters shooting at the same time, then a single shot or successionof shots, then a lull with no shooting. Hunters were seeing deer andshooting, but definitely not all of them were connecting. As Ted knew,many a deer, many a herd of deer, had emerged unhurt after a hundred ormore shots were fired at them.
Ted mounted the crest of Hawkbill and turned to offer a hand to hispanting guest. John Wilson wiped his moist brow.
"Whew! Why didn't you tell me we were going to climb the Matterhorn?"
Ted grinned sympathetically. "You're up it now, and we can see whatthere is to be seen."
Ted buttoned his jacket. The weather was unseasonably warm, but here onHawkbill's summit, little fingers of cold that probed at his exposednose and throat told of chillier things to come. While the temperaturemade no difference, snow would increase their chances a hundred percent. He studied Burned Mountain.
Spread out in a thin skirmish line, a party of red-clad hunters wereabout halfway up it. A deer fled before one of them and the man stoppedto raise his rifle. There sounded the weapon's sharp bark, but the deerran on and disappeared in some brush.
John Wilson said, "He should have had that one with a slingshot."
"Wonder if he could tell whether it was a buck or doe. I--There he is!"
"There who is?"
"One of those big bucks! See him?"
"No."
"A quarter of the way below the summit. Look a hundred yards to theright of that light-colored patch of ground and thirty yards downslope."
"I still don't--Oh, my gosh!"
He uncased his binoculars, put them to his eyes, focused and stared fora full three minutes. When he took the glasses down, there was a gleamof purest ecstasy in his eyes and at the same time a little awe.
"There isn't a buck that big!" he murmured breathlessly.
"Look again," Ted invited. "Wonder where the dickens the other one is."
He searched the briers, a little puzzled. Damon
and Pythias were knownas such because, except during the rutting season, they were never farapart. But definitely only one of the two huge deer was on BurnedMountain now. It was very unusual.
Ted shrugged. There was no unchangeable rule that said the two big bucksmust always be together. Maybe the sound of shooting or the huntersgoing into the woods had caused them to separate, or perhaps they hadparted for reasons of their own.
The shooting continued spasmodically, and not too far away came theoutlandish cacophony of shrieks and shouts that meant a hunting partywas staging a deer drive. A thin voice screamed, "He's coming your way,Harvey!"
As Ted continued to watch the big buck, John Wilson became restless.
"Let's go after him."
"Wait a bit," Ted advised. "It isn't going to be that easy."
The climbing hunters, about a hundred and fifty yards apart, broke outof the forest and into the briers. Two of them were so placed that,unless he moved, they would pass the big buck at almost equal distances.But the buck let them pass without so much as flicking an ear. He knewvery well exactly where both hunters were, but he was no fawn to panicbecause men were in the woods. The buck had a good hiding place, knewit, and he had eluded hunters this time merely by doing nothing.
"He's smart, all right." John Wilson had appreciated the strategy, too."What do you suggest, Ted?"
"I'm going over to flush him out. You stay here and let me know what hedoes."
"But--What good will that do?"
"Deer are pretty much creatures of habit. He's in that bed now becausehe likes it. If he doesn't become too frightened today, the chances aregood, both that he'll go into the same bed tonight and that he'll do thesame thing when he's flushed out of it tomorrow. Only you'll be waitingfor him."
John Wilson nodded. "That listens all right."
"Wave your red hat when he goes," Ted directed. "I'll see that and waitfor you, and we can figure our next move afterwards."
Unencumbered by an older companion, Ted half-ran down the opposite slopeof Hawkbill and started swiftly up Burned Mountain. He had no hope ofseeing the buck, but just going to the bed where it had been lying waswithin itself no easy task. Viewed from the summit of Hawkbill, variousparts of Burned Mountain had various distinguishing characteristics. Butonce on the mountain itself, everything looked alike. Ted emerged fromthe forest into the briers, crashed a way through them, and when hethought he was very near the place where the buck had bedded, he turnedto see John Wilson waving his hat.
Ted sat down for what he was sure would be a long wait. He had climbedto this place in twenty-five minutes, but he was eighteen years old.
An hour later, he heard John Wilson's, "Hall-oo!"
"Here!" Ted yelled.
Carrying his hat, streaming perspiration, but entirely happy, JohnWilson panted up to join him.
"He went out," he said cheerfully, "and I'll swear he flushed no morethan twenty yards ahead of you! Thought sure you'd see him."
"Where'd he go?"
"Quartered up the mountain and crossed the summit just a little to theright of some white birches."
Ted nodded. The course described by John Wilson had kept the big buck inthick cover all the way. It was the route he might have been expected totake, except that there were a dozen others with brush just as thick.However, there was every chance that he would go the same way a secondtime and tomorrow morning John Wilson would be posted in the bircheswhile Ted tried to drive the buck through.
"What's it like on top?" John Wilson asked.
"Patches of laurel and rhododendron. We'll go see what we can do."
* * * * *
That night, tired and hungry, the pair made their way down BurnedMountain. They hadn't seen the monster buck again, but were in no wisedisheartened. There were twenty days of the season left and John Wilsonhad had, and failed to take, a chance at a very good eight-point buck.Obviously, he'd meant it when he said he wanted only the biggest.
Ted prepared supper and washed the dishes afterwards.... The two hunterswere sprawled in the living room when Tammie whined to announce thatsomeone was coming. A minute later there was a knock at the door and Tedopened it to confront George Stacey.
"Come on in, George."
"Cain't. Gotta git home. Thought I'd stop an' tell ya that Thornton,down to Crestwood, fetched in one of them big bucks today."
"He did?"
"Sure did, an' hit's big enough for ary two bucks. Go see hit. Hit'sa'hangin' on the game pole."
"Thanks, George."
"Yer welcome. Go see hit."
"Want to go?" Ted asked his guest.
"Sure thing!"
The night air had a distinct bite, and a definite promise of freezingcold to be. Ted turned the heater on, and after they'd gone a mile orso, the pickup's cab filled with welcome warmth.
As soon as they came in sight of Crestwood it was evident that somethingunusual had occurred at that resort. Carl Thornton provided parkingspace for his guests. Now all the available area was filled and parkedcars lined both sides of the driveway. Ted backed into one of the fewempty spaces. He and John Wilson got out to join the crowd at the gamerack.
Crestwood's hunters had brought in seven other bucks this opening dayand three of them were big deer. But the biggest seemed puny beside themonster that the crowd was eyeing. Its antlers were laced close to thegame pole, but its outstretched hoofs nearly touched the ground. If thisbuck did not set a new record, it would come very close to so doing.
John Wilson murmured, "Gad, what a buck! Is the other as big?"
"They're twins."
Ted went up for a closer look. He put his hand on the hanging buck andset it to swinging gently. He gasped. As unobtrusively as possible,hoping none had noticed his outburst, he drew back into the crowd.
But several matters that had been very cloudy had become very clear.
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