They passed 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 butter in a skillet, let it brown, seasoned the
brace of woodcock, 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. "Butter-browned woodcock 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?"
"Nobody 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."
John Wilson resumed sitting in the easy chair. Before Ted washed the
dishes, 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.