“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 longrange 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.”