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  DOUBLE CHALLENGE

  By Jim Kjelgaard

  DODD, MEAD & COMPANY NEW YORK

  1958

  (C) 1957 by Jim Kjelgaard All rights reserved

  Second Printing

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form without permission in writing from the publisher

  Library or Congress Catalog Card Number: 57-5233

  Printed in the United States of America by The Cornwall Press, Inc., Cornwall, N.Y.

  _For Patty Gallagher, and Linda, Pam, Larry and Craig Lewis_

  CONTENTS

  1. THE JOLT 1

  2. THE THREAT 17

  3. THE CAMP 31

  4. THE FUGITIVE 47

  5. COON VALLEY 59

  6. MESSENGER DOG 75

  7. A FLIGHT OF WOODCOCK 91

  8. TROUBLE FOR NELS 107

  9. A BLACK BEAR CHARGES 121

  10. DAMON 137

  11. PYTHIAS 153

  12. AL'S BETRAYAL 167

  * * * * *

  _The characters, incidents and situations in this book are imaginary andhave no relation to any person or actual happening._

  * * * * *

  DOUBLE CHALLENGE

  1

  THE JOLT

  When Ted Harkness reached the summit of Hawkbill, he hurried. He grinneda little smugly as he did so, for his had been a non-stop climb and mostpeople who wanted to reach Hawkbill, the highest point in the Mahela andthe only one that wasn't forested, had to rest at least twice. Some,starting out with firm determination to climb to the top, wavered enroute and never did get there.

  The gorgeous, tricolored collie that had been pacing beside Ted ran ashort ways, snuffled into some brush and disappeared. Presently he camewagging back, to fall in beside his master, and Ted let a hand rest onthe dog's silken head. A little farther on, the collie pricked up itsears and Ted stopped in his tracks.

  Just ahead, a fallen tree lay at an angle down the slope. Either rootedin soft earth or shallowly rooted, it had toppled when its upperstructure became too heavy for its root system to support, and it hadfallen so recently that its leaves had not even started to shrivel.Sitting nervously on its trunk, suspecting danger was near but lackingthe faintest idea as to where it was, were seven young bobtailed grouse.

  An imp of mischief danced in Ted's eyes. Ruffed grouse were one of thesportiest and one of the wisest of birds, but they weren't born wise andexperienced. Like everything else, they had to learn and certainly thesegrouse weren't old enough to have learned much of anything. Ted saidsoftly, "Get one, Tammie."

  Very slowly, knowing his game and stalking it as a cat would havestalked, Tammie slunk forward. Ted watched with great interest. Rarelycould any dog catch a mature ruffed grouse unless it was injured, and itwas questionable as to whether Tammie could take one of thesecomparative babies. But he might.

  Tammie neared the log, sprang, and six of the seven young grouse tookfluttering wing. The seventh, clamped in Tammie's slender jaws,fluttered a moment and was still. Eyes proud, plumed tail waving, Tammietrotted back to Ted and placed the prize in his master's hand. Tedcomplimented him.

  "Good boy, Tammie!"

  He took the young grouse gently, feeling its thumping heart andunderstanding its terrified eyes. It wasn't hurt. When teaching Tammieto catch various birds and animals, Ted had taught him to betender-mouthed. After a moment, he tossed his captive into the air andwatched it fly out of sight.

  "Let's go, dog."

  They broke out of the beech woods onto the abutment that rose above.Almost solid rock, nothing grew here except lichens and, in the cracks,occasional strips of grass. Bent somewhat like a hawk's bill, it was afavorite playground for hawks that wanted to test their wings. The viewwas unsurpassed.

  Ted sat down on the very tip of Hawkbill and Tammie squattedcompanionably beside him. Ted looked at the Mahela.

  For as far as he could see in any direction, forested hills folded intoone another. Spinning Creek sparkled like a silver ribbon that somegiant hand had draped gracefully down a forested valley. The road toLorton, from this distance, was a footpath beside the creek. Two milesdown the valley, the green clearing in which lay Carl Thornton'sCrestwood Resort, the only resort in the Mahela and Ted's place ofemployment, gleamed like a great emerald.

  Just below, almost at Ted's feet, was the snug log house in which he andhis father lived, surrounded by two hundred acres of forest, except forsmall and scattered patches here and there. The Harknesses owned thelast remaining private land in the Mahela. Its only clearings were thosein which the cabin was built and one for a garden patch. Al Harknessdidn't want or need much clearing. He preferred the beech woods to thecultivated fields, the trap line or woodsman's ax to the plow.

  Behind Hawkbill rose a mountain that, long ago, had been ravaged byfire. The fire had burned slowly in the lower reaches and the forestthere remained green and virgin. But a little more than halfway up,probably fanned by sudden, fierce winds, the fire had become an inferno.Nearly all the trees had been killed and had long since fallen. Theplace had grown up into a tangle of blackberry canes, with a few patchesof scrubby aspen here and there. As Ted watched, he saw what he'd hopedto see. It was only a wisp of motion, a mere flutter in the aspens, andas soon as Ted spotted it, he lost it. Presently he picked it up again.

  It was an immense deer, a great gray buck. Heavy-bodied, thick-necked,it would outweigh most big bucks by at least fifty pounds. Massive ofbeam, with four perfect points on either side, its antlers were ahunter's dream come true. It was feeding on something, probably patchesof grass that grew among the briers. Ted's eyes glowed and he continuedto search.

  Presently he saw the second buck, an exact twin of the first. It wasstanding quietly in the warm sun, a hundred feet up-slope.

  These were the bucks that were known throughout the Mahela, and farbeyond it, as Damon and Pythias. All who'd seen them thought that eitherone, if bagged, would set a new record. But so far, both had carriedtheir antlers safely through several hunting seasons and from the lazyway they posed on the mountainside, they might have been two gray steersin any farmer's pasture. The appearance was deceptive, though, and Tedknew it. Let anything at all excite either buck's suspicion and they'dprove their mettle. Ted rubbed Tammie's head reflectively.

  "There they are," he observed, "and one of these days I'm going to hangone of those heads over our fireplace."

  Tammie yawned and Ted laughed. "Okay, so I'm bragging again. But I'mstill going to do it. Let's go, dog."

  Having seen what he had come to see, he struck back down the mountain,through the forest of massive, gray-trunked beeches that marched likerows of orderly soldiers in all directions. Forty-five minutes later heemerged into his father's clearing.

  No shanty or casual cabin, but a solid log structure built by a mastercraftsman, the house was set back against the line of trees. Artfullydesigned, it belonged exactly where it was and as it was. The Harknesshouse fitted the Mahela as well as did the big beeches against which,and of which, it was built. With a wing on each side and a covered porchthat jutted forward, somehow the house itself seemed to hold outwelcoming arms. A huge brick chimney told of the big firep
lace within.

  To one side was a shed, half of which formed a home for the few chickensAl Harkness saw fit to keep. There were never fewer than six of theseand never more than ten, just enough to furnish Ted and his father withthe eggs they needed and to provide an occasional fowl for the pot. Theother half of the shed was a storage place for tools.

  Behind the house was another, larger shed which sheltered a gasolineengine and buzz saw and provided a place for Al to take care of thefurs, wild honey, herbs and other treasures that he brought in from theMahela. In front stood the game rack, a cross pole mounted on two heavytimbers imbedded in the ground. Here hung the deer and occasional blackbear that Al, Ted and their guests brought down.

  To one side lay the garden, big enough to provide all the vegetables theHarknesses needed but not big enough to make a glaring scar in the beechwoods. As a protection against raiding deer, this garden was surroundedby an eight-foot fence. The road to Lorton ran about sixty yards infront of the house but was hidden from it by trees. Beside the road wasthe high line with its two wires stretching into the house. There was arutted drive that served as an entrance and exit for the batteredpickup truck which was all the car Al Harkness had ever thought heneeded.

  When the boy and dog entered the clearing, Tammie raced ahead andstreaked toward the work shed. Knowing his father would be there orTammie wouldn't have gone, Ted strolled up and looked in at the opendoor. Sitting on a wooden chair with a broken back, Al Harkness wasusing his hunting knife to put the finishing touches on a board overwhich, when the time was right, a mink pelt would be stretched. Helooked up and said, "Hi, fella."

  "Hi, Dad. I'm back."

  "Figgered that out all by myself, when your dog came in to say hello."Tammie was sitting near, watching Al work. For a moment, Ted watched,too.

  Perfectly-shaped, with exactly the right taper, the board upon which Alworked did not vary a hundredth of an inch from one side to the other.Al, who got more money for his furs than other trappers did because hetook better care of them, sliced off another shaving and squinted downthe board. A big man, he seemed as rugged as one of the giant beechtrees. His brows jutted out like stone crags, while the eyes beneaththem were gentle. But they were gentle in the manner of a soft wind thatcan become a fierce gale. There was something about him that was morethan faintly akin to the grouse Ted had held in his hand, the ruggedsummit of Hawkbill, and the two immense bucks he had seen. Al Harknesswould be out of place anywhere except in the Mahela.

  "What'd you see?" he asked.

  "Damon and Pythias," Ted answered happily. "Anybody who thinks they hada rack of horns last year should see them now!"

  "Where they hangin' out?"

  "Where they always are at this time of year, in the briers on BurnedMountain."

  "And where," Al asked, "will they be come huntin' season?"

  "I don't know, but I'm sure going to find out. One or the other of thoseheads will hang over our fireplace."

  "For sure now?" Al smiled faintly.

  "If it doesn't, it won't be for lack of trying on my part."

  "One, two, three, four," Al counted rapidly. "One thousand, twothousand, three thousand, four thousand--You'll have to get at the endof a long line of hunters who want those heads."

  "I know a lot of hunters have tried for them, but they can be had."

  "Anything can be had," Al observed sagely, "and one nice thing 'boutyoung 'uns is they think they can get it. Land either of those bucks andyour picture'll be in every paper in the state. Maybe even in some outof state."

  "Sure," Ted grinned, "I'll be famous as a deer hunter before I ever amas a resort owner."

  Finally satisfied with his stretching board, Al laid it carefully in acorner. He took a blackened pipe from his shirt pocket and anexquisitely wrought tobacco pouch from his trousers. Made of home-tannedbuckskin, even if the pouch had not borne the stamp of Al'scraftsmanship, it would have been recognized as his. His name, A.HARKNESS, was stencilled on it. Al filled his pipe, lighted it andpuffed lazy bursts of blue smoke into the air.

  Tammie, who, in common with most dogs, disliked the smell of tobacco,sneezed and moved farther away. For a moment Al did not speak. Finallyhe murmured, "So now you're goin' to be a famous resort owner?"

  "Why, didn't you know?" Ted asked gaily. "The Mahela Lodge will be knownall the way from Lorton to Danzer."

  Al grinned faintly. "That's a real long ways, nigh onto six miles. Youwouldn't change your mind?"

  "About what?"

  "You can still go to college this fall and learn to be a dentist,lawyer, or anything else you want."

  "Colleges cost money."

  "I have," Al said tartly, "been scarin' up a penny every now and againsince I been changin' your didies. I can still scare up enough to sendyou through college, but I mistrust about startin' you in the resortbusiness. Crestwood cost Carl Thornton more money than I've earned in mywhole life."

  "I don't want to leave the Mahela."

  "Too much of your pappy in you," Al growled, "and not enough of yourmother. I want you to be somethin' besides a woods runner."

  "It isn't that, Dad. I've tried to explain to you. It's thepeople--seeing them come in here all tired out, and seeing them go awayrested and refreshed after we've shown them everything we have in theMahela. I know college is valuable and I don't look down my nose ateducation. But this is my job."

  Al sighed. "I've tried to talk some sense into you. How are you andThornton gettin' along?"

  "Dad, Thornton owns Crestwood. I just work there."

  "So that makes Thornton better'n you, huh? You're goin' to be a rightsmart passel of time, savin' enough to start your own resort on whatThornton pays you."

  "I'm getting experience, meeting people, learning how it's done. I'mreally learning the business from the bottom up."

  "Huh?"

  "Nels Anderson and I have been working on the plumbing in Crestwood'sbasement," Ted grinned.

  Al frowned. "I'm not foolin'. This is a big job you've set up foryourself and I don't see how you'll ever get enough money to do it."

  Ted said confidently, "I'll work it out."

  "I wish," Al declared, "that I was eighteen 'stead of forty-nine. I'd beable to work things out, too. But it's you doin' it. Everybody's got tolive the way they see fit."

  Al picked up another board and began shaping it. Ted took hispocketknife from his pocket.

  "I'll help you, huh?"

  "Reckon not." Al shook his head. "Sunday's your day off."

  "Let me help. It wouldn't really be work to me."

  "Nope. Even if I did want help, nobody but me can make my stretchin'boards."

  "Then I'll go get dinner."

  "That's a smart idea."

  With Tammie pacing beside him, Ted went into the house. Everything aboutit was solid, strong, heart-warming. The front door was made of oakboards an inch and a half thick, the windows were set ten inches back inthe log walls, the ample fireplace was of native stone. Obviously it wasthe home of an outdoorsman. Two mounted bucks' heads stared from thesame wall, and of the five rugs on the living room floor, three werebearskins and two were bobcats. Ted's and Al's rifles and shotguns hungon a rack and there was a glass-enclosed case for fishing tackle.

  But Al Harkness, child of the Mahela though he was, did not spurn modernconveniences. Electric lights hung from the ceiling. Bottled gasfurnished fuel for the kitchen range and there was a hot water heater.Al had an electric refrigerator, a large freezer and a tiled sink withregulation hot and cold faucets.

  Tammie, knowing they'd been out and would go no more, curled up on oneof the bearskin rugs. Ted took a chicken from the refrigerator and beganto stuff it with a dressing made of bread dough, giblets, apples andseasoning. It was a task he'd done often, and his thoughts wandered.

  Al, who'd never gone beyond the sixth grade, had a near-worshipfulregard for education and he'd insisted that his son be educated. Aftergraduating with honors from Lorton High, Ted himself realized thatcollege training w
ould be valuable. But there were other factorsinvolved.

  With no desire to become a trapper and woodsman like his father, Tedwanted to stay in the Mahela. It was worthy and wonderful. Wildernesswould always be needed, and, deep inside him, Ted saw himself running agrand lodge to which guests could come and partake of the benefitsCrestwood's clients certainly found. People who came back to thewilderness always seemed to be coming back to the source of things andfinding spiritual values that lay only at the source.

  Ted had taken a flunkey's job at Crestwood two days after he graduated.It did not pay as much as he might have earned elsewhere, but it waswhat he wanted and he saved as much as possible. Meanwhile, his dreamcontinued to grow. The couple of hundred dollars he had put aside was amere drop in the bucket compared to the--Ted had never even dared lethimself imagine how many--thousands he needed. But he knew he would finda way and, above all, he wished that he could make his father know it,too.

  Ted lighted the oven, put his chicken in to roast and scrubbed potatoesto be baked in their jackets. He mixed biscuit dough. Since neither henor Al cared for dessert, he didn't prepare any. But he did take apackage of carrots and peas from the freezer. He remembered whimsicallythat, before they had the freezer, his father used to can dozens ofquarts of vegetables. Dreamily he went about setting the table. As hedid so, he noticed a man in an expensive car driving up the Lorton Road.

  There was a squeal of brakes as he stopped suddenly and a shriek oftires as he turned up the Harkness drive. He was a short man, and fat,but his smile was nice, although his eyes were shrewd.

  "Do you own this land?" he demanded.

  Al and Ted told him that they owned it, whereupon the short, fat mandeclared breathlessly that a diamond mine had just been discovered intheir back yard and that he, personally, would guarantee them a hundredthousand dollars for the mining rights! He would give fifty thousand atonce, and it was all right with him if they built a great resort infront, as long as they didn't interfere with his mine.

  Ted grinned ruefully as his daydream faded and he went to call hisfather to dinner.

  * * * * *

  The next morning, the rising sun was only halfway down Hawkbill when Tedwalked to his job at Crestwood. His heart lifted, as it always did whenhe saw the place. He liked to imagine that he owned it.

  Semi-luxurious Crestwood, the only resort in the Mahela, hadaccommodations for sixty guests under normal conditions and perhapsninety if they were crowded in. It was well patronized in fishingseason, had a sprinkling of guests who wanted to do nothing save enjoythe out of doors when there was neither hunting nor fishing, filled upagain when the small game season started and was packed in the deerseason for which the Mahela was famous. While deer hunting was on,Thornton turned away twice as many guests as he could accommodate.Afterwards, Crestwood was closed until fishing season opened again.

  At the far end of a spacious clearing, set back against the beeches andblending very well with the background, Crestwood's main lodge was a biglog building that contained a dining hall, a kitchen, a lounge, a gameroom, an office for Thornton, quarters for the help and rooms for guestswho preferred to remain in the lodge. To one side were ten neat logcabins that accommodated four guests each in normal times and six duringdeer season. The utility rooms and outbuildings were behind the mainlodge and hidden by it and the wide driveway was of crushed stone.

  "Hi, Ted!"

  Ted turned to wait for middle-aged Nels Anderson, his co-flunkey atCrestwood. Neither brilliant nor subtle, but always gentle, Nels hadbeen taught by a lifetime of hard knocks to appreciate the good thingsthat came his way, and, as far as Nels was concerned, the best thingthat had ever come his way was his job at Crestwood. Always a hewer ofwood and a drawer of water, the most Nels asked was to be paid withreasonable regularity for his hewing and drawing. He smiled a slowScandinavian smile as Ted returned his greeting.

  "Good morning, Nels. How are you feeling?"

  "Goot. And you?"

  "First rate. Shall we start earning our wages?"

  "Yah. You go down? Or me?"

  "I'll go. You catch the pipe."

  They entered the lodge. Ted ducked into Crestwood's gloomy basement,turned on the light and caught up a length of pipe. He and Nels wererunning water to some of the upstairs rooms. He maneuvered the pipethrough an already drilled hole and waited for his companion to catch itand stab it into an elbow.

  Nothing happened and Ted sighed resignedly. Nels was one of those rarepeople who know enough about many things to do a passable job. He couldrun water pipes and wires, build a stone wall, shingle a roof, tend asick cow or horse, fell trees, construct a root cellar and do well anyof a few dozen more things that might need doing. But he was apt to getsidetracked, in which event he needed a while to wake up. Obviously hewas sidetracked now. Then the door opened and Nels stood behind Ted.

  "The boss, he wants to see you."

  "What's he want?"

  "He forgot to say."

  "Well--"

  "He say right now."

  "Will you take this pipe?"

  "Oh! Yah, I take it."

  Nels took the pipe and Ted went back into the lobby. He knocked on theoffice door, and Carl Thornton opened it.

  "Come on in, Ted."

  The boy stepped into the spacious office. The floor was covered with athick carpet. At one side was a mahogany desk upon which stood atypewriter. Over it were hung bookshelves. There were four cushionedchairs and a satiny davenport upon which the owner usually slept. In awall rack were Thornton's high-powered rifle and a belt full of hisdistinctive, brass-jacketed, hand-loaded shells. Ted turned to face hisemployer.

  In his late thirties, Thornton was not slightly built. But there wasabout him an air of slightness that was accentuated by his quickmovements. Thinning blond hair was artfully combed to hide a bald spot.His eyes were pale blue, almost icy blue, behind gold-rimmed glasses.The ghost of a smile haunted his lips. He had a flair for conversationthat always made it appear as though nothing anyone else could say wasnearly as important as what he had to offer.

  "I've been watching your work, Ted, and I like it."

  "Thanks, Mr. Thornton."

  "There'll be a better job pretty soon; Crestwood's going to expand."

  Ted's heart leaped. This was what he'd always wanted. "Thank you."

  "A good man," Thornton said, "is not easily come by and I've learned thevalue of one. That's why I'm putting you on a special job right now."

  "You are?" Ted's voice quivered eagerly.

  "Yes. You're a pretty good deer hunter, aren't you?"

  "I--I guess so."

  "You know of those two bucks they call Damon and Pythias?"

  "Everyone does."

  Thornton said, "I want them."

  "You--?"

  "That's right. With those two heads on the wall--" Thornton shrugged."Crestwood would be mentioned in every paper in the state. If they'rereally records, there probably would be national publicity. In anyevent, they'll help bring guests here."

  "But--Nobody has even managed to get near those two bucks in huntingseason."

  Thornton looked shrewdly at him. "But before the season?"

  "You mean?"

  "That's just what I mean. Those two bucks don't go into hiding untilafter hunters take to the woods. I'm pretty sure that anyone who knewwhat he was doing could get both of them before the season opened. Howabout it?"

  Ted said reluctantly, "It might be done."

  "Good! Take all the time you need and I'll leave the details up to you.If you're caught, of course you'll keep your mouth shut and I'll pay thefine. But I think you'll know how to go about it without getting caught.Deliver both bucks to Crestwood--we'll arrange those details after youget them--and thereafter it's up to me. Good luck."

  Ted heard himself saying, "No, Mr. Thornton."

  Thornton looked puzzled. "I don't understand."

  "I can't do it."

  "I've already told you that I'll
pay your fine if you're caught."

  "It isn't that."

  "Then what is it? Does it make any difference if those bucks are shotnow or six weeks from now?"

  "Yes."

  "Why?"

  "Getting them now would be violating the law."

  "Who doesn't violate the law? Considering the mass of laws we have, fewpeople can live a single day without, intentionally or otherwise,running afoul of them. Have you ever looked up some of the crackpotlaws, such as the one which states that, on Sunday, in this state, nohorse shall wear other than a plain black harness?"

  "It's not that."

  "Ted, do you know anyone at all in the Mahela who lives up to the fullletter of the game laws? Do you know anyone who doesn't take what hewants when he wants it, in season or out?"

  "Yes."

  "Who?"

  "My father and I."

  There was an ominous silence. Thornton broke it.

  "It seems that I've misjudged you."

  "It seems you have!" Ted's anger was rising. "I'll leave now!"