Chapter 3

They built the nightly fires circling the camp to keep out the animals.

“It’ll be the death of me yet,” said Adams wearily, “cutting all this wood.”

“We have to get to work on that stockade,” Cooper said. “We’ve fooled around too long. Some night, fire or no fire, a herd of mastodon will come busting in here and if they ever hit the helicopter, we’ll be dead ducks. It wouldn’t take more than just five seconds to turn us into Robinson Crusoes of the Pleistocene.”

“Well, now that this recognition thing has petered out on us,” said Adams, “maybe we can get down to business.”

“Trouble is,” Cooper answered, “we spent about the last of our money on the chain saw to cut this wood and on Chuck’s trip to Washington. To build a stockade, we need a tractor. We’d kill ourselves if we tried to rassle that many logs bare-handed.”

“Maybe we could catch some of those horses running around out there.”

“Have you ever broken a horse?”

“No, that’s one thing I never tried.”

“Me, either. How about you, Chuck?”

“Not me,” said the ex-ambassador extraordinary bluntly.

Cooper squatted down beside the coals of the cooking fire and twirled the spit. Upon the spit were three grouse and half a dozen quail. The huge coffee pot was sending out a nose-tingling aroma. Biscuits were baking in the reflector.

“We’ve been here six weeks,” he said, “and we’re still living in a tent and cooking on an open fire. We better get busy and get something done.”

“The stockade first,” said Adams, “and that means a tractor.”

“We could use the helicopter.”

“Do you want to take the chance? That’s our getaway. Once something happens to it...”

“I guess not,” Cooper admitted, gulping.

“We could use some of that Point Four aid right now,” commented Adams.

“They threw me out,” said Hudson. “Everywhere I went, sooner or later they got around to throwing me out. They were real organized about it.”

“Well, we tried,” Adams said.

“And to top it off,” added Hudson, “I had to go and lose all that film and now we’ll have to waste our time taking more of it. Personally, I don’t ever want to let another saber-tooth get that close to me while I hold the camera.”

“You didn’t have a thing to worry about,” Adams objected. “Johnny was right there behind you with the gun.”

“Yeah, with the muzzle about a foot from my head when he let go.”

“I stopped him, didn’t I?” demanded Cooper.

“With his head right in my lap.”

“Maybe we won’t have to take any more pictures,” Adams suggested.

“We’ll have to,” Cooper said. “There are sportsmen up ahead who’d fork over ten thousand bucks easy for two weeks of hunting here. But before we could sell them on it, we’d have to show them movies. That scene with the saber-tooth would cinch it.”