“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 billo frights motion; I couldn’t let that stand. I know enough about such things to know that the rights and duties needed for a cooperative 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 thirtyseven 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.”