He sat companionably close and draped a friendly arm across Ted's shoulder. "Lots of grouse?" "Plenty. You like grouse hunting, eh?" "Best darn' game there is!" Beamish exploded. "I rather get me one grouse than forty-nine deer! And I get 'em, too!" "You do?" "Didn't you ever hear about me?" "I--" Ted hesitated. Obviously, he was supposed to know his guest. But he didn't, yet to say the wrong thing might mean to give offense, "Uh--aren't you--?" "Tha's right!" Beamish said happily. "I'm Beamish, the trapshooter! Traps in summer, grouse in season! Br-br-br! Up they go! Bang! Down they come! Every time!" Ted twisted uneasily. Three grouse was the daily bag limit. Nobody should need, or take, more than that. He calmed himself. As yet, nobody had taken more. He pulled in to the camp and stopped. "Fine camp!" enthused Beamish, who could see only that part of it which was illuminated by the pickup's lights. "Best I ever did see! Great lil' camp!" The other two cars stopped and the rest of the hunters got out. Even in the night, there was that about them which at once set them apart from the quiet Beaulieu party. They were younger, more restless, and they fairly oozed that nervous sparkle which so often marks young executives. They were also sensible--only Arthur Beamish and one other had been over-indulging themselves. Definitely, the drivers of the two cars were in full possession of all their faculties. The three beautiful setters that had ridden in a pen in one of the car's trunks were as smartly turned out as the men. Obviously, they were hunting dogs, the best money could buy. But this crowd had money to spend. "Come 'round!" Arthur Beamish bellowed. "Wan'sha to meet Ted!" One by one, Ted was introduced to the rest of the party and as he met them, he liked them. If they were young and restless, they were also competent and talented and they had an air of belonging here in the wilderness. Probably this was not the first camp they'd ever seen. "Let's go in," Ted suggested. Arthur Beamish bubbled, "You get the best ideas!" Ted let the men into the camp, watched closely as they inspected it and knew definitely that they'd been in such places before. Their glances were quick but all encompassing. One of them, and although Ted did not remember all the names, he thought this one was Tom Strickland, turned with a smile. "This will do very well. Do you know where we can get a wet nurse?" "A what?" Strickland grinned, "A sort of combination cook, fire-builder, sweeper-upper, dishwasher; we'll want to spend our time hunting." "I think I can find somebody. Is nine dollars a day all right?" "Sure. Can you send him up tomorrow?" "Send him tonight!" somebody yelled. Strickland said scathingly, "I wouldn't inflict you wild hyenas on anyone tonight. I'll cook breakfast." "Oh, my aching ptomaine!" Ted grinned. "I'm sure I can send somebody tomorrow. Everything's O.K., eh?" "Right as rain."