They built the nightly fires circling the camp to keep out the
animals.
"It'll be the death of me yet," said Adams wearily, "cutting all
this wood."
"We have to get to work on that stockade," Cooper said. "We've
fooled around too long. Some night, fire or no fire, a herd of
mastodon will come busting in here and if they ever hit the
helicopter, we'll be dead ducks. It wouldn't take more than just
five seconds to turn us into Robinson Crusoes of the Pleistocene."
"Well, now that this recognition thing has petered out on us,"
said Adams, "maybe we can get down to business."
"Trouble is," Cooper answered, "we spent about the last of our
money on the chain saw to cut this wood and on Chuck's trip to
Washington. To build a stockade, we need a tractor. We'd kill
ourselves if we tried to rassle that many logs bare-handed."
"Maybe we could catch some of those horses running around out
there."
"Have you ever broken a horse?"
"No, that's one thing I never tried."
"Me, either. How about you, Chuck?"
"Not me," said the ex-ambassador extraordinary bluntly.
Cooper squatted down beside the coals of the cooking fire and
twirled the spit. Upon the spit were three grouse and half a dozen
quail. The huge coffee pot was sending out a nose-tingling aroma.
Biscuits were baking in the reflector.
"We've been here six weeks," he said, "and we're still living in a
tent and cooking on an open fire. We better get busy and get
something done."
"The stockade first," said Adams, "and that means a tractor."
"We could use the helicopter."
"Do you want to take the chance? That's our getaway. Once
something happens to it...."
"I guess not," Cooper admitted, gulping.
"We could use some of that Point Four aid right now," commented
Adams.
"They threw me out," said Hudson. "Everywhere I went, sooner or
later they got around to throwing me out. They were real organized
about it."
"Well, we tried," Adams said.
"And to top it off," added Hudson, "I had to go and lose all that
film and now we'll have to waste our time taking more of it.
Personally, I don't ever want to let another saber-tooth get that
close to me while I hold the camera."
"You didn't have a thing to worry about," Adams objected. "Johnny
was right there behind you with the gun."
"Yeah, with the muzzle about a foot from my head when he let go."
"I stopped him, didn't I?" demanded Cooper.
"With his head right in my lap."
"Maybe we won't have to take any more pictures," Adams suggested.
"We'll have to," Cooper said. "There are sportsmen up ahead who'd
fork over ten thousand bucks easy for two weeks of hunting here.
But before we could sell them on it, we'd have to show them
movies. That scene with the saber-tooth would cinch it."
"If it didn't scare them off," Hudson pointed out. "The last few
feet showed nothing but the inside of his throat."
Ex-ambassador Hudson looked unhappy. "I don't like the whole
setup. As soon as we bring someone in, the news is sure to leak.
And once the word gets out, there'll be guys lying in ambush for
us--maybe even nations--scheming to steal the know-how, legally or
violently. That's what scares me the most about those films I
lost. Someone will find them and they may guess what it's all
about, but I'm hoping they either won't believe it or can't manage
to trace us."
"We could swear the hunting parties to secrecy," said Cooper.
"How could a sportsman keep still about the mounted head of a
saber-tooth or a record piece of ivory?" And the same thing would
apply to anyone we approached. Some university could raise dough
to send a team of scientists back here and a movie company would
cough up plenty to use this place as a location for a caveman
epic. But it wouldn't be worth a thing to either of them if they
couldn't tell about it.
"Now if we could have gotten recognition as a nation, we'd have
been all set. We could make our own laws and regulations and be
able to enforce them. We could bring in settlers and establish
trade. We could exploit our natural resources. It would all be
legal and aboveboard. We could tell who we were and where we were
and what we had to offer."
"We aren't licked yet," said Adams. "There's a lot that we can do.
Those river hills are covered with ginseng. We can each dig a
dozen pounds a day. There's good money in the root."
"Ginseng root," Cooper said, "is peanuts. We need _big_ money."
"Or we could trap," offered Adams. "The place is alive with
beaver."
"Have you taken a good look at those beaver? They're about the
size of a St. Bernard."
"All the better. Think how much just one pelt would bring."
"No dealer would believe that it was beaver. He'd think you were
trying to pull a fast one on him. And there are only a few states
that allow beaver to be trapped. To sell the pelts--even if you
could--you'd have to take out licenses in each of those states."
"Those mastodon carry a lot of ivory," said Cooper. "And if we
wanted to go north, we'd find mammoths that would carry even
more...."
"And get socked into the jug for ivory smuggling?"
They sat, all three of them, staring at the fire, not finding
anything to say.
The moaning complaint of a giant hunting cat came from somewhere
up the river.