Mayor Cowper got off to a good start. He approved, took over, and embellished a suggestion that Carmen and Bob should have their own quarters. He suspended work on the wall and set the whole village to constructing a honeymoon cottage. Not until his deputy, Roy Kilroy, reminded him did he send out hunting parties.
He worked hard himself, having set the wedding for that evening and having decreed that the building must be finished by sundown. Finished it was by vandalizing part of the wall to supply building stone when the supply ran short Construction was necessarily simple since they had no tools, no mortar but clay mud, no way to cut timbers. It was a stone box as tall as a man and a couple of meters square, with a hole for a door. The roof was laid up from the heaviest poles that could be cut from a growth upstream of giant grass much like bamboo- the colonists simply called it “bamboo.” This was thatched and plastered with mud; it sagged badly.
But it was a house and even had a door which could be closed- a woven grass mat stiffened with bamboo. It neither hinged nor locked but it filled the hole and could be held in place with a stone and a pole. The floor was clean sand covered with fresh broad leaves.
As a doghouse for a St. Bernard it would have been about right; as a dwelling for humans it was not much. But it was better than that which most human beings had enjoyed through the history and prehistory of the race. Bob and Carmen did not look at it critically.
When work was knocked off for lunch Rod selfconsciously sat down near a group around Cowper. He had wrestled with his conscience for a long time in the night and had decided that the only thing to do was to eat sour grapes and pretend to like them. He could start by not avoiding Cowper.
Margery Chung was cook for the day; she cut Rod a chunk of scorched meat. He thanked her and started to gnaw it. Cowper was talking. Rod was not trying to overhear but there seemed to be no reason not to listen.
“-which is the only way we will get the necessary discipline into the group. I'm sure you agree. Cowper glanced up, caught Rod's eye, looked annoyed, then grinned. “Hello, Rod.”
“Hi, Grant.”
“Look, old man, we're having an executive committee meeting. Would you mind finding somewhere else to eat lunch?”
Rod stood up blushing. “Oh! Sure.”
Cowper seemed to consider it. “Nothing private, of course- just getting things done. On second thought maybe you should sit in and give us your advice.”
“Huh? Oh, no! I didn't know anything was going on.” Rod started to move away.
Cowper did not insist. “Got to keep working, lots to do. See you later, then. Any time.” He grinned and turned away.
Rod wandered off, feeling conspicuous. He heard himself hailed and turned gratefully, joined Jimmy Throxton. “Come outside the wall,” Jimmy said quietly. “The Secret Six are having a picnic. Seen the happy couple?”
“You mean Carmen and Bob?”
“Know any other happy couples? Oh, there they are- staring hungrily at their future mansion. See you outside.”
Rod went beyond the wall, found Jacqueline and Caroline sitting near the water and eating. From habit he glanced around, sizing up possible cover for carnivores and figuring escape routes back into the kraal, but his alertness was not conscious as there seemed no danger in the open so near other people. He joined the girls and sat down on a rock. “Hi, kids.”
“Hello, Rod.”
“H'lo, Roddie,” Caroline seconded. “'What news on the Rialto?'“
“None, I guess. Say, did Grant appoint an executive committee last night?”
“He appointed about a thousand committees but no executive committee unless he did it after we adjourned. Why an executive committee? This gang needs one the way I need a bicycle.”
“Who is on it, Rod?” asked Jacqueline.
Rod thought back and named the faces he had seen around Cowper. She looked thoughtful. “Those are his own special buddies from Teller U.”
“Yes, I guess so.
“I don't like it,” she answered.
“What's the harm?”
“Maybe none . . . maybe. It is about what we could expect. But I'd feel better if all the classes were on it, not just that older bunch. You know.”
“Shucks, Jack, you've got to give him some leeway.”
“I don't see why, put in Caroline. “That bunch you named are the same ones Hizzonor appointed as chairmen of the other committees. It's a tight little clique. You notice none of us unsavory characters got named to any important cominittee- I'm on waste disposal and camp sanitation, Jackie is on food preparation, and you aren't on any. You should have been on the constitution, codification, and organization committee, but he made himself chairman and left you out. Add it up.”
Rod did not answer. Caroline went on, “I'll add it if you won't. First thing you know there will be a nominating committee. Then we'll find that only those of a certain age, say twenty-one, can hold office. Pretty soon that executive committee will turn into a senate (called something else, probably) with a veto that can be upset only by a three-quarters majority that we will never get. That's the way my Uncle Phil would have rigged it.”
“Your Uncle Phil?”
“Boy, there was a politician! I never liked him- he had kissed so many babies his lips were puckered. I used to hide when he came into our house. But I'd like to put him up against Hizzonor. It'ud be a battle of dinosaurs. Look, Rod, they've got us roped and tied; I say we should fade out right after the wedding.” She turned to Jacqueline. “Right. . . pardner?”
“Sure . . . if Rod says so.”
“Well, I don't say so. Look, Carol, I don't like the situation. To tell the truth . . . well, I was pretty sour at being kicked out of the captaincy. But I can't let the rest of you pull out on that account. There aren't enough of us to form another colony, not safely.”
“Why, Roddie, there are three times as many people still back in those trees as there are here in camp. This time we'll build up slowly and be choosy about whom we take. Six is a good start. We'll get by.”
“Not six, Carol. Four.”
“Huh? Six! We shook on it last night before Jimmy woke you.”
Rod shook his head. “Carol, how can we expect Bob and Carmen to walk out . . . right after the rest have made them a wedding present of a house of their own?”
“Well . . . darn it, we'd build them another house!”
“They would go with us, Carol- but it's too much to ask.”
“I think,” Jacqueline said grudgingly, “that Rod has something, Carol.”
The argument was ended by the appearance of Bob, Carmen, and Jimmy. They had been delayed, explained Jimmy, by the necessity of inspecting the house. “As if I didn't know every rock in it. Oh, my back!”
“I appreciate it, Jim,” Carmen said softly. “I'll rub your back.”
“Sold!” Jimmy lay face down.
“Hey!” protested Caroline. “I carried more rocks than he did. Mostly he stood aromid and bossed.”
“Supervisory work is exceptionally tiring,” Jimmy said smugly. “You get Bob to rub your back.”
Neither got a back rub as Roy Kilroy called to them from the wall. “Hey! You down there- lunch hour is over. Let's get back to work.”
“Sorry, Jimmy. Later.” Carmen turned away.
Jimmy scrambled to his feet. “Bob, Carmen- don't go 'way yet. I want to say something.”
They stopped. Rod waved to Kilroy. “With you in a moment!” He turned back to the others.
Jimmy seemed to have difficulty in choosing words. “Uh, Carmen . . . Bob. The future Baxters. You know we think a lot of you. We think it's swell that you are going to get married- every family ought to have a marriage. But . . . well, shopping isn't what it might be around here and we didn't know what to get you. So we talked it over and decided to give you this. It's from all of us. A wedding present.” Jimmy jammed a hand in his pocket, hauled out his dirty, dog-eared playing cards and handed them to Carmen.
Bob Baxter looked startled. “Gosh, Jimmy, we can't take your cards-your only cards.”
“I- we want you to have them.”
“But-”
“Be quiet, Bob!” Carmen said and took the cards. “Thank you, Jimmy. Thank you very much. Thank you all.” She looked around. “Our getting married isn't going to make any difference, you know. It's still one family. We'll expect you all . . . to come play cards . . . at our house just as-” She stopped suddenly and started to cry, buried her head on Bob's shoulder. He patted it. Jimmy looked as if he wanted to cry and Rod felt nakedly embarrassed.
They started back, Carmen with an arm around Jimmy and the other around her bethrothed. Rod hung back with the other two. “Did Jimmy,” he whispered, “say anything to either of you about this?”
“No,” Jacqueline answered.
“Not me,” Caroline agreed. “I was going to give 'em my stew pan, but now I'll wait a day or two.” Caroline's “bag of rocks” had turned out to contain an odd assortment for survival- among other things, a thin-page diary, a tiny mouth organ, and a half-litre sauce pan. She produced other unlikely but useful items from time to time. Why she had picked them and how she had managed to hang on to them after she discarded the bag were minor mysteries, but, as Deacon Matson had often told the class: “Each to his own methods. Survival is an art, not a science.” It was undeniable that she had appeared at the cave healthy, well fed, and with her clothing surprisingly neat and clean in view of the month she had been on the land.
“They won't expect you to give up your stew pan, Caroline.”
“I can't use it now that the crowd is so big, and they can set up housekeeping with it. Anyhow, I want to.”
“I'm going to give her two needles and some thread. Bob made her leave her sewing kit behind in favor of medical supplies. But I'll wait a while, too.”
“I haven't anything I can give them,” Rod said miserably.
Jacqueline turned gentle eyes on him. “You can make them a water skin for their house, Rod,” she said softly. “They would like that. We can use some of my KwikKure so that it will last.”
Rod cheered up at once. “Say, that's a swell idea!”
“We are gathered here,” Grant Cowper said cheerfully, “to join these two people in the holy bonds of matrimony. I won't give the usual warning because we all know that no impediment exists to this union. In fact it is the finest thing that could happen to our little community, a joyful omen of things to come, a promise for the future, a guarantee that we are firmly resolved to keep the torch of civilization, now freshly lighted on this planet, forever burning in the future. It means that-”
Rod stopped listening. He was standing at the groom's right as best man. His duties had not been onerous but now he found that he had an overwhelming desire to sneeze. He worked his features around, then in desperation rubbed his upper lip violently and overcame it. He sighed silently and was glad for the first time that Grant Cowper had this responsibility. Grant seemed to know the right words and he did not.
The bride was attended by Caroline Mshiyeni. Both girls carried bouquets of a flame-colored wild bloom. Caroline was in shorts and shirt as usual and the bride was dressed in the conventional blue denim trousers and overshirt. Her hair was arranged en brosse; her scrubbed face shone in the firelight and she was radiantly beautiful.
“Who giveth this woman?”
Jimmy Throxton stepped forward and said hoarsely, “I do!”
“The ring, please.”
Rod had it on his little finger; with considerable fumbling he got it off. It was a Ponce de Leon senior-class ring, borrowed from Bill Kennedy. He handed it to Cowper.
“Carmen Eleanora, do you take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold, for better and for worse, in sickness and in health, till death do you part?”
“I do.”
“Robert Edward, do you take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife? Will you keep her and cherish her, cleaving unto her only, until death do you part?”
“I do. I mean, I will. Both.”
“Take her hand in yours. Place the ring on her finger. Repeat after me- Rod's sneeze was coming back again; he missed part of it.
“-so, by authority vested in me as duly elected Chief Magistrate of this sovereign community, I pronounce you man and wife! Kiss her, chum, before I beat you to it.”
Carol and Jackie both were crying; Rod wondered what had gone wrong. He missed his turn at kissing the bride, but she turned to him presently, put an arm around his neck and kissed him. He found himself shaking hands with Bob very solemnly. “Well, I guess that does it. Don't forget you are supposed to carry her through the door.”
“I won't forget.”
“Well, you told me to remind you. Uh, may the Principle bless you both.”
There was no more talk of leaving. Even Caroline dropped the subject.
But on other subjects talk was endless. Cowper held a town meeting every evening. These started with committee reports- the committee on food resources and natural conservation, the committees on artifacts and inventory, on waste disposal and camp sanitation, on exterior security, on human resources and labor allotment, on recruitment and immigration, on conservation of arts and sciences, on constitution, codification, and justice, on food preparation, on housing and city planning- Cowper seemed to enjoy the endless talk and Rod was forced to admit that the others appeared to have a good time, too- he surprised himself by discovering that he too looked forward to the evenings. It was the village's social life, the only recreation. Each session produced wordy battles, personal remarks and caustic criticisms; what was lacking in the gentlemanly formality found in older congresses was made up in spice. Rod liked to sprawl on the ground with his ear near Jimmy Throxton and listen to Jimmy's slanderous asides about the intelligence, motives, and ancestry of each speaker. He waited for Caroline's disorderly heckling.
But Caroline was less inclined to heckle now; Cowper had appointed her Historian on discovering that she owned a diary and could take shorthand. “It is extremely important,” he informed her in the presence of the village, “that we have a full record of these pioneer days for posterity. You've been writing in your diary every day?”
“Sure. That's what it's for.”
“Good! From here on it will be an official account. I want you to record the important events of each day.”
“All right. It doesn't make the tiniest bit of difference, I do anyhow.”
“Yes, yes, but in greater detail. I want you to record our proceedings, too. Historians will treasure this document, Carol.”
“I'll bet!”
Cowper seemed lost in thought. “How many blank leaves left in your diary?”
“Couple of hundred, maybe.”
“Good! That solves a problem I had been wondering about. Uh, we will have to requisition half of that supply for official use- public notices, committee transactions, and the like. You know.”
Caroline looked wide-eyed. “That's a lot of paper, isn't it? You had better send two or three big husky boys to carry it.”
Cowper looked puzzled. “You're joking.”
“Better make it four big huskies. I could probably manage three . . . and somebody is likely to get hurt.”
“Now, see here, Caroline, it is just a temporary requisition, in the public interest. Long before you need all of your diary we will devise other writing materials.”
“Go ahead and devise! That's my diary.”
Caroline sat near Cowper, diary in her lap and style in her hand, taking notes. Each evening she opened proceedings by reading the minutes of the previous meeting. Rod asked her if she took down the endless debates.
“Goodness no!”
“I wondered. It seemed to me that you would run out of paper. Your minutes are certainly complete.”
She chuckled. “Roddie, want to know what I really write down? Promise not to tell.”
“Of course I won't.”
“When I 'read the minutes' I just reach back in my mind and recall what the gabble was the night before-I've got an awfully good memory. But what I actually dirty the paper with . . . well, here-” She took her diary from a pocket. “Here's last night: 'Hizzoner called us to disorder at half-past burping time. The committee on cats and dogs reported. No cats, no dogs. The shortage was discussed. We adjourned and went to sleep, those who weren't already.'“
Rod grinned. “A good thing Grant doesn't know shorthand.”
“Of course, if anything real happens, I put it down. But not the talk, talk, talk.”
Caroline was not adamant about not sharing her supply of paper when needed. A marriage certificate, drawn up in officialese by Howard Goldstein, a Teller law student, was prepared for the Baxters and signed by Cowper, the couple themselves, and Rod and Caroline as witnesses. Caroline decorated it with flowers and turtle doves before delivering it.
There were others who seemed to feel that the new government was long on talk and short on results. Among them was Bob Baxter, but the Quaker couple did not attend most of the meetings. But when Cowper had been in office a week, Shorty Dumont took the floor after the endless committee reports:
“Mr. Chairman!”
“Can you hold it, Shorty? I have announcements to make before we get on to new business.”
“This is still about committee reports. When does the committee on our constitution report?”
“Why, I made the report myself.”
“You said that a revised draft was being prepared and the report would be delayed. That's no report. What I want to know is: when do we get a permanent set-up? When do we stop floating in air, getting along from day to day on 'temporary executive notices'?”
Cowper flushed. “Do you object to my executive decisions?”
“Won't say that I do, won't say that I don't. But Rod was let out and you were put in on the argument that we needed constitutional governinent, not a dictatorship. That's why I voted for you. All right, where's our laws? When do we vote on them?”
“You must understand,” Cowper answered carefully, “that drawing up a constitution is not done overnight. Many considerations are involved.”
“Sure, sure- but it's time we had some notion of what sort of a constitution you are cooking up. How about a bill of rights? Have you drawn up one?”
“All in due time.”
“Why wait? For a starter let's adopt the Virginia Bill of Rights as article one. I so move.
“You're out of order. Anyhow we don't even have a copy of it.”
“Don't let that bother you; I know it by heart. You ready, Carol? Take this down .
“Never mind,” Caroline answered. “I know it, too. I'm writing it.”
“You see? These things aren't any mystery, Grant; most of us could quote it. So let's quit stalling.”
Somebody yelled, “Whoopee! That's telling him, Shorty. I second the motion.”
Cowper shouted for order. He went on, “This is not the time nor the place. When the committee reports, you will find that all proper democratic freedoms and safeguards have been included- modified only by the stern necessities of our hazardous position.” He flashed his smile. “Now let's get on with business. I have an announcement about hunting parties. Hereafter each hunting party will be expected to-”
Dumont was still standing. “I said no more stalling, Grant. You argued that what we needed was laws, not a captain's whim. You've been throwing your weight around quite a while now and I don't see any laws. What are your duties? How much authority do you have? Are you both the high and the low justice? Or do the rest of us have rights?”
“Shut up and sit down!”
“How long is your term of office?”
Cowper made an effort to control himself. “Shorty, if you have suggestions or, such things, you must take them up with the committee.
“Oh, slush! Give me a straight answer.”
“You are out of order.”
“I am not out of order. I'm insisting that the committee on drawing up a constitution tell us what they are doing. I won't surrender the floor until I get an answer. This is a town meeting and I have as much right to talk as anybody.”
Cowper turned red. “I wouldn't be too sure,” he said ominously. just how old are you, Shorty?”
Dumont stared at him. “Oh, so that's it? And the cat is out of the bag!” He glanced around. “I see quite a few here who are younger than I am. See what he's driving at, folks? Second-class citizens. He's going to stick an age limit in that so-called constitution. Aren't you, Grant? Look me in the eye and deny it.”
“Roy! Dave! Grab him and bring him to order.”
Rod had been listening closely; the show was better than usual. Jimmy had been adding his usual flippant commentary. Now Jimmy whispered, “That tears it. Do we choose up sides or do we fade back and watch the fun?”
Before he could answer Shorty made it clear that he needed no immediate help. He set his feet wide and snapped, “Touch me and somebody gets hurt!” He did not reach for any weapon but his attitude showed that he was willing to fight.
He went on, “Grant, I've got one thing to say, then I'll shut up.” He turned and spoke to all. “You can see that we don't have any rights and we don't know where we stand- but we are already organized like a straitjacket. Committees for this, committees for that- and what good has it done? Are we better off than we were before all these half-baked committees were appointed? The wall is still unfinished, the camp is dirtier than ever, and nobody knows what he is supposed to do. Why, we even let the signal fire go out yesterday. When a roof leaks, you don't appoint a committee; you fix the leak. I say give the job back to Rod, get rid of these silly committees, and get on with fixing the leaks. Anybody with me? Make some noise!”
They made plenty of noise. The shouts may have come from less than half but Cowper could see that he was losing his grip on them. Roy Kilroy dropped behind Shorty Dumont and looked questioningly at Cowper; Jiminy jabbed Rod in the ribs and whispered, “Get set, boy.”
But Cowper shook his head at Roy. “Shorty,” he said quietly, “are you through making your speech?”
“That wasn't a speech, that was a motion. And you had better not tell me it's out of order.”
“I did not understand your motion. State it.”
“You understood it. I'm moving that we get rid of you and put Rod back in.”
Kilroy interrupted. “Hey, Grant, he can't do that. That's not according to-”
“Hold it, Roy. Shorty, your motion is not in order.”
“I thought you would say that!”
“And it is really two motions. But I m not going to bother with trifles. You say people don't like the way I'm doing things, so we'll find out.” He went on briskly, “Is there a second to the motion?”
“Second!”
“I second it.”
“Moved and seconded. The motion is to recall me and put Rod in office. Any remarks?”
A dozen people tried to speak. Rod got the floor by outshouting the others. “Mr. Chairman, Mr. Chairman! Privileged question!”
“The chair recognizes Rod Walker.”
“Point of personal privilege. I have a statement to make.”
“Well? Go ahead.”
“Look, Grant, I didn't know Shorty planned to do this. Tell him, Shorty.”
“That's right.”
“Okay, okay,” Cowper said sourly. “Any other remarks? Don't yell, just stick up your hands.”
“I'm not through,” insisted Rod.
“Well?”
“I not only did not know, I'm not for it. Shorty, I want you to withdraw your motion.”
“No!”
“I think you should. Grant has only had a week; you can't expect miracles in that time- I know; I've had grief enough with this bunch of wild men. You may not like the things he's done- I don't myself, a lot of them. That's to be expected. But if you let that be an excuse to run him out of office, then sure as daylight this gang will break up.”
“I'm not busting it up- he is! He may be older than I am but if he thinks that makes the least difference when it comes to having a say- well. . . he'd better think twice. I'm warning him. You hear that, Grant?”
“I heard it. You misunderstood me.”
“Like fun I did!”
“Shorty,” Rod persisted, “will you drop this idea? I'm asking you please.”
Shorty Dumont looked stubborn. Rod looked helplessly at Cowper, shrugged and sat down. Cowper turned away and growled, “Any more debate? You back there. . . Agnes? You've got the floor.”
Jimmy whispered, “Why did you pull a stunt like that, Rod? Nobility doesn't suit you.”
“I wasn't being noble. I knew what I was doing,” Rod answered in low tones.
“You messed up your chances to be re-elected.”
“Stow it.” Rod listened; it appeared that Agnes Fries had more than one grievance. Jim?”
“Huh?”
“Jump to your feet and move to adjourn.”
“What? Ruin this when it's getting good? There is going to be some hair pulled . . . I hope.”
“Don't argue; do it!- or I'll bang your heads together.”
“Oh, all right. Spoilsport.” Jimmy got reluctantly to his feet, took a breath and shouted, “I move we adjourn!”
Rod bounced to his feet. “SECOND THE MOTION!” Cowper barely glanced at them. “Out of order. Sit down.”
“It is not out of order,” Rod said loudly. “A motion to adjourn is always in order, it takes precedence, and it cannot be debated. I call for the question.”
“I never recognized you. This recall motion is going to be voted on it it is the last thing I do.” Cowper's face was tense with anger. “Are you through, Agnes? Or do you want to discuss my table manners, too?”
“You can't refuse a motion to adjourn,” Rod insisted. “Question! Put the question.”
Several took up the shout, drowning out Agnes Fries, preventing Cowper from recognizing another speaker. Boos and catcalls rounded out the tumult.
Cowper held up both hands for silence, then called out, “It has been moved and seconded that we adjourn. Those in favor say, 'Aye.'“
“AYE!!”
“Opposed?”
“No,” said Jimmy.
“The meeting is adjourned.” Cowper strode out of the circle of firelight.
Shorty Dumont came over, planted himself in front of Rod and looked up. “A fine sort of a pal you turned out to be!” He spat on the ground and stomped off.
“Yeah,” agreed Jimmy, “what gives? Schizophrenia? Your nurse drop you on your head? That noble stuff in the right doses might have put us back in business. But you didn't know when to stop.”
Jacqueline had approached while Jimmy was speaking. “I wasn't pulling any tricks,” Rod insisted. “I meant what I said. Kick a captain out when he's had only a few days to show himself and you'll bust us up into a dozen little groups. I wouldn't be able to hold them together. Nobody could.”
“Bosh! Jackie, tell the man.”
She frowned. “Jimmy, you're sweet, but you're not bright.”
“Et tu, Jackie?”
“Never mind, Jackie will take care of you. A good job, Rod. By tomorrow everybody will realize it. Some of them are a little stirred up tonight.”
“What I don't see,” Rod said thoughtfully, “is what got Shorty stirred up in the first place?”
“Hadn't you heard? Maybe it was while you were out hunting. I didn't see it, but he got into a row with Roy, then Grant bawled him out in front of everybody. I think Shorty is self-conscious about his height,” she said seriously. “He doesn't like to take orders.”
“Does anybody?”
The next day Grant Cowper acted as if nothing had happened. But his manner had more of King Log and less of King Stork. Late in the afternoon he looked up Rod. “Walker? Can you spare me a few minutes?”
“Let's go where we can talk.” Grant led him to a spot out of earshot. They sat on the ground and Rod waited. Cowper seemed to have difficulty in finding words.
Finally he said, “Rod, I think I can depend on you.” He threw in his grin, but it looked forced.
“Why?” asked Rod.
“Well. . . the way you behaved last night.”
“So? Don't bank on it, I didn't do it for you.” Rod paused, then added, “Let's get this straight. I don't like you.”
For once Cowper did not grin. “That makes it mutual. I don't like you a little bit. But we've got to get along and I think I can trust you.
“Maybe.”
“I'll risk it.”
“I agree with every one of Shorty's gripes. I just didn't agree with his soltition.”
Cowper gave a wry smile unlike his usual expression. For an instant Rod found himself almost liking him. “The sad part is that I agree with his gripes myself.”
“Huh?”
“Rod, you probably think I'm a stupid jerk but the fact is I do know quite a bit about theory of government. The hard part is to apply it in a. . . a transitional period like this. We've got fifty people here and not a one with any practical experience in government- not even myself. But every single one considers himself an expert. Take that bill-of-rights motion; I couldn't let that stand. I know enough about such things to know that the rights and duties needed for a co-operative colony like this can't be taken over word for word from an agrarian democracy, and they are still different from those necessary for an industrial republic.” He looked worried. “It is true that we had considered limiting the franchise.”
“You do and they'll toss you in the creek!”
“I know. That's one reason why the law committee hasn't made a report. Another reason is- well, confound it, how can you work out things like a constitution when you practically haven't any writing paper? Ifs exasperating. But about the franchise: the oldest one of us is around twenty-two and the youngest is about sixteen. The worst of it is that the youngest are the most precocious, geniuses or near-geniuses.” Cowper looked up. “I don't mean you.
“Oh, no,” Rod said hastily. “I'm no genius!”
“You're not sixteen, either. These brilliant brats worry me. 'Bush lawyers,' every blessed one, with always a smart answer and no sense. We thought with an age limit- a reasonable one- the older heads could act as ballast while they grow up. But it won't work.”
“No. It won't.”
“But what am I to do? That order about hunting teams not being mixed- that wasn't aimed at teams like you and Carol, but she thought it was and gave me the very deuce. I was just trying to take care of these kids. Confound it, I wish they were all old enough to marry and settle down- the Baxters don't give me trouble.”
“I wouldn't worry. In a year or so ninety per cent of the colony will be married.”
“I hope so! Say . . . are you thinking about it?”
“Me?” Rod was startled. “Farthest thing from my mind.”
“Um? I thought- Never mind; I didn't get you out here to ask about your private affairs. What Shorty had to say was hard to swallow- but I'm going to make some changes. I'm abolishing most of the committees.”
“So?”
“Yes. Blast them, they don't do anything; they just produce reports. I'm going to make one girl boss cook- and one man boss hunter. I want you to be chief of police.”
“Huh? Why in Ned do you want a chief of police?”
“Well . . . somebody has to see that orders are carried out. You know, camp sanitation and such. Somebody has to keep the signal smoking- we haven't accounted for thirty-seven people, aside from known dead. Somebody has to assign the night watch and check on it. The kids run hog wild if you don't watch them. You are the one to do it.”
“Why?”
“Well . . . let's be practical, Rod. I've got a following and so have you. We'll have less trouble if everybody sees that we two stand together. It's for the good of the community.”
Rod realized, as clearly as Grant did, that the group had to pull together. But Cowper was asking him to shore up his shaky administration, and Rod not only resented him but thought that Cowper was all talk and no results.
It was not just the unfinished wall, he told himself, but a dozen things. Somebody ought to search for a salt lick, every day. There ought to be a steady hunt for edible roots and berries and things, too- he, for one, was tired of an all-meat diet. Sure, you could stay healthy if you didn't stick just to lean meat, but who wanted to eat nothing but meat, maybe for a life time? And there were those stinking hides . . . Grant had ordered every kill skinned, brought back for use.
“What are you going to do with those green hides?” he asked suddenly.
“Huh? Why?”
“They stink. If you put me in charge, I'm going to chuck them in the creek.”
“But we're going to need them. Half of us are in rags now.
“But we're not short on hides; tanning is what we need. Those hides won't sun-cure this weather.”
“We haven't got tannin. Don't be silly, Rod.”
“Then send somebody out to chew bark till they find some. You can't mistake the puckery taste. And get rid of those hides!”
“If I do, will you take the job?”
“Maybe. You said, 'See that orders are carried out.' Whose orders? Yours? Or Kilroy's?”
“Well, both. Roy is my deputy.”
Rod shook his head. “No, thanks. You've got him, so you don't need me. Too many generals, not enough privates.”
“But, Rod, I do need you. Roy doesn't get along with the younger kids. He rubs them the wrong way.”
“He rubs me the wrong way, too. Nothing doing, Grant. Besides, I don't like the title anyhow. It's silly.”
“Pick your own. Captain of the Guard. .. City Manager. I don't care what you call it; I want you to take over the night guard and see that things run smoothly around camp- and keep an eye on the younger kids. You can do it and it's your duty.”
“What will you be doing?”
“I've got to whip this code of laws into shape. I've got to think about long-range planning. Heavens, Rod, I ve got a thousand things on my mind. I can't stop to settle a quarrel just because some kid has been teasing the cook. Shorty was right; we can't wait. When I give an order I want a law to back it and not have to take lip from some young snotty. But I can't do it all, I need help.”
Cowper put it on grounds impossible to refuse, nevertheless . . . “What about Kilroy?”
“Eh? Confound it, Rod, you can't ask me to kick out somebody else to make room for you.”
“I'm not asking for the job!” Rod hesitated. He needed to say that it was a matter of stubborn pride to him to back up the man who had beaten him, it was that more than any public-spiritedness. He could not phrase it, but he did know that Cowper and Kilroy were not the same case.
“I won't pull Kilroy's chestnuts out of the fire. Grant, I'll stooge for you; you were elected. But I won't stooge for a stooge.”
“Rod, be reasonable! If you got an order from Roy, it would be my order. He would simply be carrying it out.”
Rod stood up. “No deal.”
Cowper got angrily to his feet and strode away.
There was no meeting that night, for the first time. Rod was about to visit the Baxters when Cowper called him aside. “You win. I've made Roy chief hunter.”
“Huh?”
“You take over as City Manager, or Queen of the May, or whatever you like. Nobody has set the night watch. So get busy.”
“Wait a minute! I never said I would take the job.”
“You made it plain that the only thing in your way was Roy. Okay, you get your orders directly from me.
Rod hesitated. Cowper looked at him scornfully and said, “So you can't co-operate even when you have it all your own way?”
“Not that, but-”
“No 'buts.' Do you take the job? A straight answer: yes, or no.
“Uh. . . yes.
“Okay.” Cowper frowned and added, “I almost wish you had turned it down.”
“That makes two of us.”
Rod started to set the guard and found that every boy he approached was convinced that he had had more than his share of watches. Since the exterior security committee had kept no records- indeed, had had no way to- it was impossible to find out who was right and who was shirking. “Stow it!” he told one. “Starting tomorrow we'll have an alphabetical list, straight rotation. I'll post it even if we have to scratch it on a rock.” He began to realize that there was truth in what Grant had said about the difficulty of getting along without writing paper.
“Why don't you put your pal Baxter on watch?”
“Because the Mayor gave him two weeks honeymoon, as you know. Shut up the guff. Charlie will be your relief; make sure you know where he sleeps.”
“I think I'll get married. I could use two weeks of loafing.”
“I'll give you five to one you can't find a girl that far out of her mind. You're on from midnight to two.”
Most of them accepted the inevitable once they were assured of a square deal in the future, but Peewee Schneider, barely sixteen and youngest in the community, stood on his “rights”- he had stood a watch the night before, he did not rate another for at least three nights, and nobody could most colorfully make him.
Rod told Peewee that he would either stand his watch, or Rod would slap his ears loose- and then he would still stand his watch. To which he added that if he heard Peewee use that sort of language around camp again he would wash Peewee's mouth out with soap.
Schneider shifted the argument. “Yah! Where are you going to find soap?”
“Until we get some, I'll use sand. You spread that word, Peewee: no more rough language around camp. We're going to be civilized if it kills us. Four to six, then, and show Kenny where you sleep.” As he left Rod made a mental note that they should collect wood ashes and fat; while he had only a vague idea of how to make soap probably someone knew how. . . and soap was needed for other purposes than curbing foul-mouthed pip squeaks. He had felt a yearning lately to be able to stand upwind of himself . . . he had long ago thrown away his socks.
Rod got little sleep. Everytime he woke he got up and inspected the guard, and twice he was awakened by watchmen who thought they saw something prowling outside the circle of firelight. Rod was not sure, although it did seem once that he could make out a large, long shape drifting past in the darkness. He stayed up a while each time, another gun in case the prowler risked the wall or the fires in the gap. He felt great temptation to shoot at the prowling shadows, but suppressed it. To carry the attack to the enemy would be to squander their scanty ammunition without making a dent in the dangerous beasts around them. There were prowlers every night; they had to live with it.
He was tired and cranky the next morning and wanted to slip away after breakfast and grab a nap in the cave. He had not slept after four in the morning, but had checked on Peewee Schneider at frequent intervals. But there was too much to do; he promised himself a nap later and sought out Cowper instead. “Two or three things on my mind, Grant.”
“Spill it.”
“Any reason not to put girls on watch?”
“Eh? I don't think it's a good idea.”
“Why not? These girls don't scream at a mouse. Everyone of them stayed alive by her own efforts at least a month before she joined up here. Ever seen Caroline in action?”
“Mmm . . . no.
“You should. It's a treat. Sudden death in both hands, and eyes in the back of her head. If she were on watch, I would sleep easy. How many men do we have now?”
“Uh, twenty-seven, with the three that came in yesterday.”
“All right, out of twenty-seven who doesn't stand watch?”
“Why, everybody takes his turn.”
“You?”
“Eh? Isn't that carrying it pretty far? I don't expect you to take a watch; you run it and check on the others.”
“That's two off. Roy Kilroy?”
“Uh, look, Rod, you had better figure that he is a department head as chief hunter and therefore exempt. You know why- no use looking for trouble.”
“I know, all right. Bob Baxter is off duty, too.”
“Until next week.”
“But this is this week. The committee cut the watch down to one at a time; I'm going to boost it to two again. Besides that I want a sergeant of the guard each night. He will be on all night and sleep all next day . . . then I don't want to put him on for a couple of days. You see where that leaves me? I need twelve watchstanders every night; I have less than twenty to draw from.”
Cowper looked worried. “The committee didn't think we had to have more than one guard at a time.”
“Committee be hanged!” Rod scratched his scars and thought about shapes in the dark. “Do you want me to run this the way I think it has to be run? Or shall I just go through the motions?”
“Well . .
“One man alone either gets jittery and starts seeing shadows- or he dopes off and is useless. I had to wake one last night- I won't tell you who; I scared him out of his pants; he won't do it again. I say we need a real guard, strong enough in case of trouble to handle things while the camp has time to wake up. But if you want it your way, why not relieve me and put somebody else in?”
“No, no, you keep it. Do what you think necessary.”
“Okay, I'm putting the girls on. Bob and Carmen, too, And you.”
“Huh?”
“And me. And Roy Kilroy. Everybody. That's the only way you will get people to serve without griping; that way you will convince them that it is serious, a first obligation, even ahead of hunting.”
Cowper picked at a hangnail, “Do you honestly think I should stand watch? And you?”
“I do. It would boost morale seven hundred percent. Besides that, it would be a good thing, uh, politically.”
Cowper glanced up, did not smile. “You've convinced me. Let me know when it's my turn.”
“Another thing. Last night there was barely wood to keep two fires going.”
“Your problem. Use anybody not on the day's hunting or cooking details.”
“I will. You'll hear some beefs. Boss, those were minor items; now I come to the major one. Last night I took a fresh look at this spot. I don't like it, not as a permanent camp. We've been lucky.”
“Eh? Why?”
“This place is almost undefendable. We've got a stretch over fifty meters long between shale and water on the upstream side. Downstream isn't bad, because we build a fire in the bottleneck. But upstream we have walled off less than half and we need a lot more stakes behind the wall. Look,” Rod added, pointing, “you could drive an army through there- and last night I had only two little bitty fires. We ought to finish that wall.”
“We will.”
“But we ought to make a real drive to find a better place. This is makeshift at best. Before you took over I as trying to find more caves- but I didn't have time to explore very far. Ever been to Mesa Verde?”
“In Colorado? No.”
“Cliff dwellings, you've seen pictures. Maybe somewhere up or down stream-more likely down- we will find pockets like those at Mesa Verde where we can build homes for the whole colony. You ought to send a team out for two weeks or more, searching. I volunteer for it.”
“Maybe. But you can't go; I need you.”
“In a week I'll have this guard duty lined up so that it will run itself. Bob Baxter can relieve me; they respect him. . . .. .” He thought for a moment. Jackie? Jimmy? “I'll team with Carol.”
“Rod, I told you I want you here. But are you and Caroline planning to marry?”
“Huh? What gave you that notion?”
“Then you can't team with her in any case. We are trying to re-introduce amenities around here.”
“Now see here, Cowper!”
“Forget it.”
“Unh . . . all right. But the first thing- the very first- is to finish that wall. I want to put everybody to work nght away.”
“Mmm . . .” Cowper said. “I'm sorry. You can't.”
“Why not?”
“Because we are going to build a house today. Bill Kennedy and Sue Briggs are getting married tonight.”
“Huh? I hadn't heard.”
“I guess you are the first to hear. They told me about it privately, at breakfast.”
Rod was not surprised, as Bill and Sue preferred each other's company. “Look, do they have to get married to-night? That wall is urgent, Grant; I'm telling you.”
“Don't be so intense, Rod. You can get along a night or two with bigger fires. Remember, there are human values more important than material values.”
“July 29- Bill and Sue got married tonight. Hizzoner never looked lovelier. He made a mighty pretty service out of it- I cried and so did the other girls. If that boy could do the way he can talk! I played Mendelssohn's Wedding March on my harmonica with tears running down my nose and gumming up the reeds- that's a touch I wanted to put into darling Carmen's wedding but I couldn't resist being bridesmaid. The groom got stuck carrying his lady fair over the threshold of their 'house'- if I may call it that- and had to put her down and shove her in ahead of him. The ceiling is lower than it ought to be which is why he got stuck, because we ran out of rock and Roddie raised Cain when we started to use part of the wall. Hizzoner was leading the assault on the wall and both of them got red in the face and shouted at each other. But Hizzoner backed down after Roddie got him aside and said something- Bill was pretty sore at Roddie but Bob sweet-talked him and offered to swap houses and Roddie promised Bill that we would take the roof off and bring the walls up higher as soon as the wall is finished. That might not be as soon as he thinks, though- usable rock is getting hard to find. I've broken all my nails trying to pry out pieces we could use. But I agree with Roddie that we ought to finish that wall and I sleep a lot sounder now that he is running the watch and I'll sleep sounder yet when that wall is tight and the pincushion back of it finished. Of course we girls sleep down at the safe end but who wants to wake up and find a couple of our boys missing? It is not as if we had them to spare, bless their silly little hearts. Nothing like a man around the house, Mother always said, to give a home that lived-in look.
“July 30- I'm not going to write in this unless something happens. Hizzoner talks about making papyrus like the Egyptians but I'll believe it when I see it.
“Aug 5- I was sergeant of the guard last night and Roddie was awake practically all night. I turned in after breakfast and slept until late afternoon- when I woke up there was Roddie, red-eyed and cross, yelling for more rocks and more firewood. Sometimes Roddie is a little hard to take.
“Aug 9- the salt lick Alice found is closer than the one Shorty found last week, but not as good.
“Aug 14- Jackie finally made up her mind to marry Jim and I think Roddie is flabbergasted- but I could have told him a month ago. Roddie is stupid about such things. I see another house & wall crisis coming and Roddie will get a split personality because he will want Jimmy and Jacqueline to have a house right away and the only decent stone within reach is built into the wall.
“Aug 15- Jimmy and Jackie, Agnes and Curt, were married today in a beautiful double ceremony. The Throxtons have the Baxter house temporarily and the Pulvermachers have the Kennedy's doll house while we partition the cave into two sets of married quarters and a storeroom.
“Sep 1- the roots I dug up didn't poison me, so I served a mess of them tonight. The shield from power pack of that Thunderbolt gun we salvaged- Johann's, it must have been- made a big enough boiler to cook a little helping for everybody. The taste was odd, maybe because Agnes had been making soap in it- it wasn't very good soap, either. I'm going to call these things yams because they look like yams although they taste more like parsnips. There are a lot of them around. Tomorrow I m going to try boiling them with greens, a strip of side ineat, and plenty of salt. Yum, yum! I'm going to bake them in ashes, too.
“Sep 16- Chad Ames and Dick Burke showed up with their tails tucked in; Hizzoner got soft-hearted and let em stay. They say Jock McGowan is crazy. I can believe it.
“Sep 28- Philip Schneider died today, hunting. Roy carried him in, but he was badly clawed and lost a lot of blood and was D.O.A. Roy resigned as boss hunter and Hizzoner appointed Cliff. Roy is broken up about it but nobody blames him. The Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away. Blessed be the Name of the Lord.
“Oct 7- I've decided to marry M.
“Oct 10- seems I was mistaken- M. is going to marry Margery Chung. Well, they are nice kids and if we ever get out of this I'll be glad I'm single since I want to buck for a commission in the Amazons. Note: be a little more standoffish, Caroline. Well, try!
“Oct 20- Carmen????
“Oct 21- Yes.
“Nov 1- well Glory be! I'm the new City Manager. Little Carol, the girl with two left feet Just a couple of weeks, temporary and acting while Roddie is away, but say 'sir' when you speak to me. Hizzoner finally let Roddie make the down-river survey he has been yipping about, accompanying it with a slough of advice and injunctions that Roddie will pay no attention to once he is out of sight-if I know Roddie. It's a two-man team and Roddie picked Roy as his teamer. They left this morning.
“Nov 5- being City Manager is not all marshmallow sundae. I wish Roddie would get back.
“Nov 11 - Hizzoner wants me to copy off in here the 'report of the artifacts committee'! Mick Mahmud has been keeping it in his head which strikes me as a good place. But Hizzoner has been very jumpy since Roddie and Roy left, so I guess I will humor him- here it is:
“12 spare knives (besides one each for everybody)
“53 firearms and guns of other sorts- but only about half of them with even one charge left.
“6 Testaments
“2 Peace of the Flame
“1 Koran
“1 Book of Mormon
“1 Oxford Book of English Verse, Centennial Edition
“1 steel bow and 3 hunting arrows
“1 boiler made from a wave shield and quite a bit of metal and plastic junk (worth its weight in uranium, I admit) from the Thunderbolt Jackie salvaged.
“1 stew pan (Carmen's)
“1 pack playing cards with the nine of hearts missing
“13 matches, any number of pocket flamers no longer working, and 27 burning glasses
“1 small hand ax
“565 meters climbing line, some of it chopped up for other uses
“91 fishhooks (and no fish fit to eat!)
“61 pocket compasses, some of them broken
“19 watches that still run (4 of them adjusted to our day)
“2 bars of scented soap that Theo has been hoarding
“2 boxes Kwik-Kure and part of a box of Tan-Fast
“Several kilos of oddments that I suppose we will find a use for but I won't list. Mick has a mind like a pack rat.
“Lots of things we have made and can make more of- pots, bows and arrows, hide scrapers, a stone-age mortar & pestle we can grind seeds on if you don't mind grit in your teeth, etc. Hizzoner says the Oxford Verse is the most valuable thing we have and I agree, but not for his reasons. He wants me to cover all the margins with shorthand, recording all special knowledge that any of us have- everything from math to pig-raising. Cliff says go ahead as long as we don't deface the verses. I don't see when I'm going to find time. I've hardly been out of the settlement since Roddie left and sleep is something I just hear about.
“Nov 13- only two more days. 'For this relief, much thanks. . .'
“Nov 16- I didn't think they would be on time.
“Nov 21- We finally adopted our constitution and basic code today, the first town meeting we've had in weeks. It covers the flyleaves of two Testaments, Bob's and Georgia's. If anybody wants to refer to it, which I doubt, that's where to look.
“Nov 29- Jimmy says old Rod is too tough to kill. I hope he's right. Why, oh, why didn't I twist Hizzoner's arm and make him let me go?
“Dec 15- there's no use kidding ourselves any longer.
“Dec 21- The Throxtons and Baxters and myself and Grant gathered privately in the Baxter house tonight and Grant recited the service for the dead. Bob said a prayer for both of them and then we sat quietly for a long time, Quaker fashion. Roddie always reminded me of my brother Rickie, so I privately asked Mother to take care of him, and Roy, too- Mother had a lap big enough for three, any time.
“Grant hasn't made a public announcement; officially they are just 'overdue.'
“Dec 25- Christmas”
Rod and Roy traveled light and fast downstream, taking turns leading and covering. Each carried a few kilos of salt meat but they expected to eat off the land. In addition to game they now knew of many edible fruits and berries and nuts; the forest was a free cafeteria to those who knew it. They carried no water since they expected to follow the stream. But they continued to treat the water with respect; in addition to ichthyosaurs that sometimes pulled down a drinking buck there were bloodthirsty little fish that took very small bites- but they traveled in schools and could strip an animal to bones in minutes.”
Rod carried both Lady Macbeth and Colonel Bowie; Roy Kilroy carried his Occam's Razor and a knife borrowed from Carmen Baxter. Roy had a climbing rope wrapped around his waist. Each had a hand gun strapped to his hip but these were for extremity; one gun had only three charges. But Roy carried Jacqueline Throxton's air pistol, with freshly envenomed darts; they expected it to save hours of hunting, save time for travel.
Three days downstream they found a small cave, found living in it a forlorn colony of five girls. They powwowed, then headed on down as the girls started upstream to find the settlement. The girls had told them of a place farther down where the creek could be crossed. They found it, a wide rocky shallows with natural stepping stones . . . then wasted two days on the far side before crossing back.
By the seventh morning they had found no cave other than one the girls had occupied. Rod said to Roy, “Today makes a week. Grant said to be back in two weeks.”
“That's what the man said. Yes, sir!”
“No results.”
“Nope. None.”
“We ought to start back.”
Roy did not answer. Rod said querulously, “Well, what do you think?”
Kilroy was lying down, watching the local equivalent of an ant. He seemed in no hurry to do anything else. Finally he answered, “Rod, you are bossing this party. Upstream, downstream- just tell me.”
“Oh, go soak your head.”
“On the other hand, a bush lawyer like Shorty might question Grant's authority to tell us to return at a given time. He might use words like 'free citizen' and 'sovereign autonomy.' Maybe he's got something- this neighborhood looks awfully far 'West of the Pecos.'“
“Well. .. we could stretch it a day, at least?. We won't be taking that side trip going back.”
“Obviously. Now, if I were leading the party- but I'm not.”
“Cut the double talk! I asked for advice.”
“Well, I say we are here to find caves, not to keep a schedule.”
Rod quit frowning. “Up off your belly. Let's go.”
They headed downstream.
The terrain changed from forest valley to canyon country as the stream cut through a plateau. Game became harder to find and they used some of their salt meat. Two days later they came to the first of a series of bluffs carved eons earlier into convolutions, pockets, blank dark eyes. “This looks like it.”
“Yes,” agreed Roy. He looked around. “It might be even better farther down.”
“It might be.”
They went on.
In time the stream widened out, there were no more caves, and the canyons gave way to a broad savannah, treeless except along the banks of the river. Rod sniffed. “I smell salt.”
“You ought to. There's ocean over there somewhere.”
“I don't think so.” They went on.
They avoided the high grass, kept always near the trees. The colonists had listed more than a dozen predators large enough to endanger a man, from a leonine creature twice as long as the biggest African lion down to a vicious little scaly thing which was dangerous if cornered. It was generally agreed that the leonine monster was the “stobor” they had been warned against, although a minority favored a smaller carnivore which was faster, trickier, and more likely to attack a man.
One carnivore was not considered for the honor. It was no larger than a jack rabbit, had an oversize head, a big jaw, front legs larger than hind, and no tail. It was known as “dopy joe” from the silly golliwog expression it had and its clumsy, slow movements when disturbed. It was believed to live by waiting at burrows of field rodents for supper to come out. Its skin cured readily and made a good water bag. Grassy fields such as this savannah often were thick with them.
They camped in a grove of trees by the water. Rod said, “Shall I waste a match, or do it the hard way?”
“Suit yourself. I'll knock over something for dinner.”
“Watch yourself. Don't go into the grass.
“I'll work the edges. Cautious Kilroy they call me, around the insurance companies.
Rod counted his three matches, hoping there would be four, then started making fire by friction. He had just succeeded, delayed by moss that was not as dry as it should have been, when Roy returned and dropped a small carcass. “The durnedest thing happened.”
The kill was a dopy joe; Rod looked at it with distaste. “Was that the best you could do? They taste like kerosene.”
“Wait till I tell you. I wasn't hunting him; he was hunting me.”
“Don't kid me!”
“Truth. I had to kill him to keep him from snapping my ankles. So I brought him in.
Rod looked at the small creature. “Never heard the like. Must be insanity in his family.”
“Probably.” Roy started skinning it.
Next morning they reached the sea, a glassy body untouched by tide, unruffled by wind. It was extremely briny and its shore was crusted with salt They concluded that it was probably a dead sea, not a true ocean. But their attention was not held by the body of water. Stretching away along the shore apparently to the horizon were millions on heaping millions of whitened bones. Rod stared. “Where did they all come from?”
Roy whistled softly. “Search me. But if we could sell them at five pence a metric ton, we'd be millionaires.”
“Billionaires, you mean.
“Let's not be fussy.” They walked out along the beach, forgetting to be cautious, held by the amazing sight. There were ancient bones, cracked by sun and sea, new bones with gristle clinging, big bones of the giant antelope the colonists never hunted, tiny bones of little buck no larger than terriers, bones without number of all sorts. But there were no carcasses.
They inspected the shore for a couple of kilometers, awed by the mystery. When they turned they knew that they were turning back not just to camp but to head home. This was as far as they could go.
On the trip out they had not explored the caves. On their way back Rod decided that they should try to pick the best place for the colony, figuring game, water supply, and most importantly, shelter and ease of defense.
They were searching a series of arched galleries water-carved in sandstone cliff. The shelf of the lowest gallery was six or seven meters above the sloping stand of soil below. The canyon dropped rapidly here; Rod could visualize a flume from upstream, bringing running water right to the caves. . . not right away, but when they had time to devise tools and cope with the problems. Someday, someday- but in the meantime here was plenty of room for the colony in a spot which almost defended itself. Not to mention, he added, being in out of the rain. Roy was the better Alpinist; he inched up, flat to the rock, reached the shelf and threw down his line to Rod- snaked him up quickly. Rod got an arm over the edge, scrambled to his knees, stood up- and gasped, “What the deuce!”
“That,” said Roy, “is why I kept quiet. I thought you would think I was crazy.
“I think we both are.” Rod stared around. Filling the depth of the gallery, not seen from below, was terrace on terrace of cliff dwellings.
They were not inhabited, nor had they ever been by men. Openings which must have been doors were no higher than a man's knee, not wide enough for shoulders. But it was clear that they were dwellings, not merely formations carved by water. There were series of rooms arranged in half a dozen low stories from floor to ceiling of the gallery. The material was a concrete of dried mud, an adobe, used with wood.
But there was nothing to suggest what had built them.
Roy started to stick his head into an opening; Rod shouted, “Hey! Don't do that!”
“Why not? It's abandoned.”
“You don't know what might be inside. Snakes, maybe.”
“There are no snakes. Nobody's ever seen one.
“No . . . but take it easy.”
“I wish I had a torch light.”
“I wish I had eight beautiful dancing girls and a Cadillac copter. Be careful. I don't want to walk back alone.”
They lunched in the gallery and considered the matter. “Of course they were intelligent,” Roy declared. “We may find them elsewhere. Maybe really civilized now- these look like ancient ruins.”
“Not necessarily intelligent,” Rod argued. “Bees make more complicated homes.”
“Bees don't combine mud and wood the way these people did. Look at that lintel.”
“Birds do. I'll concede that they were bird-brained, no more.
“Rod, you won't look at the evidence.”
“Where are their artifacts? Show me one ash tray marked 'Made in Jersey City.'“
“I might find some if you weren't so jumpy.”
“All in time. Anyhow, the fact that they found it safe shows that we can live here.”
“Maybe. What killed them? Or why did they go away?”
They searched two galleries after lunch, found more dwellings. The dwellers had apparently formed a very large community. The fourth gallery they explored was almost empty, containing a beginning of a hive in one corner. Rod looked it over. “We can use this. If may not
be the best, but we can move the gang in and then find the best at our leisure.”
“We're heading back?”
“Uh, in the morning. This is a good place to sleep and tomorrow we'll travel from 'can' to 'can't'- I wonder what's up there?” Rod was looking at a secondary shelf inside the main arch.
Roy eyed it. “Ill let you know in a moment.”
“Don't bother. It's almost straight up. We'll build ladders for spots like that.”
“My mother was a human fly, my father was a mountain goat. Watch me.
The shelf was not much higher than his head. Roy had a hand over- when a piece of rock crumbled away. He did not fall far.
Rod ran to him. “You all right, boy?”
Roy grunted, “I guess so,” then started to get up. He yelped.
“What's the matter?”
“My right leg. I think. . . ow! I think it's broken.” Rod examined the break, then went down to cut splints. With a piece of the line Roy carried, used economically, for he needed most of it as a ladder, he bound the leg, padding it with leaves. It was a simple break of the tibia, with no danger of infection.
They argued the whole time. “Of course you will,” Roy was saying. “Leave me a fresh kill and what salt meat there is. You can figure some way to leave water.”
“Come back and find your chawed bones!”
“Not at all. Nothing can get at me. If you hustle, you can make it in three days.”
“Four, or five more likely. Six days to lead a party back. Then you want to go back in a stretcher? How would you like to be helpless when a stobor jumps us?”
“But I wouldn't go back. The gang would be moving down here.”
“Suppose they do? Eleven days, more likely twelve- Roy, you didn't just bang your shin; you banged your head, too.”
The stay in the gallery while Roy's leg repaired was not difficult nor dangerous; it was merely tedious. Rod would have liked to explore all the caves, but the first time he was away longer than Roy thought necessary to make a kill Rod returned to find his patient almost hysterical. He had let his imagination run away, visioning Rod as dead and thinking about his own death, helpless, while he starved or died of thirst. After that Rod left him only to gather food and water. The gallery was safe from all dangers; no watch was necessary, fire was needed only for cooking. The weather was getting warmer and the daily rains dropped off.
They discussed everything from girls to what the colony needed, what could have caused the disaster that had stranded them, what they would have to eat if they could have what they wanted, and back to girls again. They did not discuss the possibility of rescue; they took it for granted that they were there to stay. They slept much of the time and often did nothing, in animal-like torpor.
Roy wanted to start back as soon as Rod removed the splints, but it took him only seconds to discover that he no longer knew how to walk. He exercised for days, then grew sulky when Rod still insisted that he was not able to travel; the accumulated irritations of invalidism spewed out in the only quarrel they had on the trip.
Rod grew as angry as he was, threw Roy's climbing
rope at him and shouted, “Go ahead! See how far you get on that gimp leg!”
Five minutes later Rod was arranging a sling, half dragging Roy, white and trembling and thoroughly subdued, back up onto the shelf. Thereafter they spent ten days getting Roy's muscles into shape, then started back.
Shorty Dumont was the first one they ran into as they approached the settlement. His jaw dropped and he looked scared, then he ran to greet them, ran back to alert those in camp. “Hey, everybody! They're back!”
Caroline heard the shout, outdistanced the others in great flying leaps, kissed and hugged them both. “Hi, Carol,” Rod said. “What are you bawling about?”
“Oh, Roddie, you bad, bad boy!”
In the midst of jubilation Rod had time to notice many changes. There were more than a dozen new buildings, including two long shedlike affairs of bamboo and mud. One new hut was of sunbaked brick; it had windows. Where the cooking fire had been was a barbecue pit and by it a Dutch oven. Near it a stream of water spilled out of bamboo pipe, splashed through a rawhide net, fell into a rock bowl, and was led away to the creek . . . he hardly knew whether to be pleased or irked at this anticipation of his own notion.
He caught impressions piecemeal, as their triumphal entry was interrupted by hugs, kisses; and bone-jarring slaps on the back, combined with questions piled on questions. “No, no trouble- except that Roy got mad and busted his leg . . . yeah, sure, we found what we went after; wait till you see . . . no . . . yes . . . Jackie! . . . Hi, Bob!- it's good to see you, too, boy! Where's Carmen. . . Hi, Grant!”
Cowper was grinning widely, white teeth splitting his beard. Rod noticed with great surprise that the man looked old- why, shucks, Grant wasn't more than twenty-two, twenty-three at the most. Where did he pick up those lines?
“Rod, old boy! I don't know whether to have you two thrown in the hoosegow or decorate your brows with laurel.”
“We got held up.”
“So it seems. Well, there is more rejoicing for the strayed lamb than for the ninety and nine. Come on up to the city hall.”
“The what?”
Cowper looked sheepish. “They call it that, so I do. Better than 'Number Ten, Downing Street' which it started off with. It's just the hut where I sleep- it doesn't belong to me,” he added. “When they elect somebody else, I'll sleep in bachelor hall.” Grant led them toward a little building apart from the others and facing the cooking area.
The wall was gone.
Rod suddenly realized what looked strange about the upstream end of the settlement; the wall was gone completely and in its place was a thornbush barricade. He opened his mouth to make a savage comment- then realized that it really did not matter. Why kick up a row when the colony would be moving to the canyon of the Dwellers? They would never need walls again; they would be up high at night, with their ladders pulled up after them. He picked another subject.
“Grant, how in the world did you guys get the inner partitions out of those bamboo pipes?”
“Eh? Nothing to it. You tie a knife with rawhide to a thinner bamboo pole, then reach in and whittle. All it takes is patience. Waxie worked it out. But you haven't seen anything yet. We're going to have iron.
“Huh?”
“We've got ore; now we are experimenting. But I do wish we could locate a seam of coal. Say, you didn't spot any, did you?”
Dinner was a feast, a luau, a celebration to make the weddings look pale. Rod was given a real plate to eat on- unglazed, lopsided, ungraceful, but a plate. As he took out Colonel Bowie, Margery Chung Kinksi put a wooden spoon in his hand. “We don't have enough to go around, but the guests of honor rate them tonight.” Rod looked at it curiously. It felt odd in his hand.
Dinner consisted of boiled greens, some root vegetables new to him, and a properly baked haunch served in thin slices. Roy and Rod were served little unleavened cakes like tortillas. No one else had them, but Rod decided that it was polite not to comment on that. Instead he made a fuss over eating bread again.
Margery dimpled. “We'll have plenty of bread some day. Maybe next year.
There were tart little fruits for dessert, plus a bland, tasteless sort which resembled a dwarf banana with seeds. Rod ate too much.
Grant called them to order and announced that he was going to ask the travelers to tell what they had experienced. “Let them get it all told- then they won't have to tell it seventy times over. Come on, Rod. Let's see your ugly face.”
“Aw, let Roy. He talks better than I do.”
“Take turns. When your voice wears out, Roy can take over.
Between them they told it all, interrupting and supplementing each other. The colonists were awed by the beach of a billion bones, still more interested in the ruins of the Dwellers. “Rod and I are still arguing,” Roy told them. “I say that it was a civilization. He says that it could be just instinct. He's crazy with the heat; the Dwellers were people. Not humans, of course, but people.”
“Then where are they now?”
Roy shrugged. “Where are the Selenites, Dora? What became of the Mithrans?”
“Roy is a romanticist,” Rod objected. “But you'll be able to form your own opinions when we get there.”
“That's right, Rod,” Roy agreed.
“That covers everything,” Rod went on. “The rest was just waiting while Roy's leg healed. But it brings up the main subject. How quickly can we move? Grant, is there any reason not to start at once? Shouldn't we break camp tomorrow and start trekking? I've been studying it- how to make the move, I mean- and I would say to send out an advance party at daybreak. Roy or I can lead it. We go downstream an easy day's journey, pick a spot, make a kill, and have fire and food ready when the rest arrive. We do it again the next day. I think we can be safe and snug in the caves in five days.”
“Dibs on the advance party!”
“Me, too!”
There were other shouts but Rod could not help but realize that the response was not what he had expected. Jimmy did not volunteer and Caroline merely looked thoughtful. The Baxters he could not see; they were in shadow.
He turned to Cowper. “Well, Grant? Do you have a better idea?”
“Rod,” Grant said slowly, “your plan is okay . . . but you've missed a point.”
“Why do you assume that we are going to move?”
“Huh? Why, that's what we were sent for! To find a better place to live. We found it- you could hold those caves against an army. What's the hitch? Of course we move!”
Cowper examined his nails. “Rod, don't get sore. I don't see it and I doubt if other people do. I'm not saying the spot you and Roy found is not good. It may be better than here- the way this place used to be. But we are doing all right here- and we've got a lot of time and effort invested. Why move?”
“Why, I told you. The caves are safe, completely safe. This spot is exposed . . . it's dangerous.”
“Maybe. Rod, in the whole time we've been here, nobody has been hurt inside camp. We'll put it to a vote, but you can't expect us to abandon our houses and everything we have worked for to avoid a danger that may be imaginary.”
“Imaginary? Do you think that a stobor couldn't jump that crummy barricade?” Rod demanded, pointing.
“I think a stobor would get a chest full of pointed stakes if he tried it,” Grant answered soberly. “That crummy barricade' is a highly efficient defense. Take a better look in the morning.”
“Where we were you wouldn't need it. You wouldn't need a night watch. Shucks, you wouldn't need houses. Those caves are better than the best house here!”
“Probably. But, Rod, you haven't seen all we've done, how much we would have to abandon. Let's look it over in the daylight, fellow, and then talk.”
“Well . . . no, Grant, there is only one issue: the caves are safe; this place isn't. I call for a vote.”
“Easy now. This isn't a town meeting. It's a party in your honor. Let's not spoil it.”
“Well . . . I'm sorry. But we're all here; let's vote.”
“No.” Cowper stood up. “There will be a town meeting on Friday as usual. Goodnight, Rod. Goodnight, Roy. We're awfully glad you're back. Goodnight all.”
The party gradually fell apart. Only a few of the younger boys seemed to want to discuss the proposed move. Bob Baxter came over, put a hand on Rod and said, “See you in the morning, Rod. Bless you.” He left before Rod could get away from a boy who was talking to him.
Jimmy Throxton stayed, as did Caroline. When he got the chance Rod said, Jimmy? Where do you stand?”
“Me? You know me, pal. Look, I sent Jackie to bed; she wasn't feeling well. But she told me to tell you that we were back of you a hundred percent, always.”
“Thanks. I feel better.”
“See you in the morning? I want to check on Jackie.”
“Sure. Sleep tight.”
He was finally left with Caroline. “Roddie? Want to inspect the guard with me? You'll do it after tonight, but we figured you could use a night with no worries.
“Wait a minute. Carol . .. you've been acting funny.”
“Me? Why, Roddie!”
“Well, maybe not. What do you think of the move? I didn't hear you pitching in.”
She looked away. “Roddie,” she said, “if it was just me, I'd say start tomorrow. I'd be on the advance party.”
“Good! What's got into these people? Grant has them buffaloed but I can't see why.” He scratched his head. “I'm tempted to make up my own party- you, me, Jimmy and Jack, the Baxters, Roy, the few who were rarin' to go tonight, and anybody else with sense enough to pound sand.”
She sighed. “It won't work, Roddie.”
“Huh? Why not?”
“I'll go. Some of the youngsters would go for the fun of it. Jimmy and Jack would go if you insisted. . . but they would beg off if you made it easy for them. The Baxters should not and I doubt if Bob would consent. Carmen isn't really up to such a trip.”