"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.