"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 bill-of-rights motion; I couldn't let that stand. I know enough about such things to know that the rights and duties needed for a co-operative 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 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.