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purchases and tied the bundle
to the bapk of the saddle, he made his way along a
stump-strewn path to a tavern several yards away. The
sun was hot, and a glass of ale would hit the spot. It
would also be good to hear a human voice again.
    It was a weekday, and at first he thought the long,
dimly lit room was empty. But when his eyes became
accustomed to the gloom, he saw that he was not alone.
Off in a dark corner were six hunters sitting around a rough plank table. He grinned. From their loud laughter and slurred speech, he imagined they had been there
for some time.

    His gaze went over them slowly. He knew two of
them well enough to speak to. The others he had seen
at some of the hunters' rendezvous. He wondered idly
what they were doing so far away from home at this
time of the year. The big hunt wouldn't start for at least
another three months.
    He moved to the bar and ordered his ale. He was
half finished with it when one of the hunters spotted
him. The man called across the room in a friendly
fashion, "Howdy, Barton. What you doin' in these
parts?"
    Matt picked up his mug and answered as he moved
to the table, "With the old man gone, I thought I'd
move deeper into the wilderness... go where it's not so
crowded."
    The speaker slid over on the bench, making room for
Matt to sit down. Matt settled his long frame in the
empty space and nodded to the other men. Then, turning to the man sitting beside him, he inquired, "What
are you doing so far from home, Caleb? Gettin' an
early start on the hunt?"
    Caleb's handsome face lit with a smile. "You might
say that. We're on our way to a place called Kentucky.
We hear tell the Indians are friendly there, and the
game plentiful. It's nearly hunted out back home."
    "That's a fact," Matt agreed. "Me and old Grandpop
barely made provisions last year."
    "I was sorry to hear about the old man's passin',"
Caleb said. "You're gonna be lost without him, ain't
you?"
    Caleb gazed down thoughtfully at his drink a minute,
and then, after a glance at his unaware friends, leaned
closer to Matt. "Why don't you come in with us, Barton? We could sure use a man with your abilities. Ain't none of us really been this far away from home before.
I'm not sure how we'll make out a hundred miles from
nowhere. You and the old man traveled around so
much, I don't expect territory makes much difference to
you.,,

    Matt toyed with his glass, tracing wet patterns on the
tabletop. It had always been just him and the old man.
How would he work out thrown in with a group of
men? He and Grandpop had always respected each
other's privacy, realizing that there were times when a
man needed to be alone. Also, there was the question
whether he could take orders. There had been no orders
given between him and his grandfather. Each man had
known his job and had done it. But with seven men
together, there had to be a leader.
    He looked up at the waiting Caleb. "Who bosses the
outfit?"
    Caleb gave a short laugh. "You joshin'? Ain't none
of us could boss a herd of goats. We just go along,
arguin' and fightin'."
    Matt's forehead creased. "That's no way to go on a
hunt, Caleb. There's got to be one man willin' to take
on the responsibility of bringin' the men through and
makin' some money. He has to lay down rules and
regulations, then see that they are carried out. Otherwise you get no good results at all. You can spend an
entire winter makin' only pennies."
    Caleb's eyes gleamed excitedly. "Come along and be
our leader, Matt."
    His drink halfway to his lips, Matt turned surprised
eyes to Caleb. "Who? Me?" His friend nodded, and he
put the ale back down, untasted. Gazing thoughtfully
into the pale liquid, he wondered if he wanted the
bother of these hard-drinking, hard-living men. It was
doubtful if any one of them had ever taken an order
in his life. Caleb nudged his arm. "Well, Matt, what
about it?"

    "I don't know, Caleb. I never led anybody before.
Anyhow, what