CHAPTER 13

Darla found us a room that was perfect for our needs; and, after Jack checked it for electronic surveillance equipment of any kind and found it clean, we set up shop.

The dictation Uncle George had given me appeared to be a numeric-coded word puzzle. He and Dad were both big fans of all kinds of word games and puzzles. I'd started trying to do them when I was about ten; Jack never had. He'd always been the jock, while I'd always been the scholar. So, it fell to me to try to solve the thing. Jack sat at my elbow, asking me how it was done.

I sighed and stared at the paper with a somewhat furrowed brow. There were several groups of numbers, each group obviously representing a word. But, since only the digits 0, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8 and 9 were used (the #1 being blatantly absent); and since there are 26 letters in the alphabet, I was a bit mystified at first. Then I remembered. . ..

Snapping my fingers, I said, "It's like a rotary telephone dial!"

"Excuse me?" Jack asked, looking mystified and somewhat incredulous.

"There are puzzles like this in some of Dad's puzzle magazines. There's always a makeshift telephone dial printed on the page to help you figure out what the words are," I explained as I drew a crude one of my own. "It's not exactly like a telephone dial because Q and Z are missing from the real ones. In the puzzle books, zero represents Q or Z."

"So, two is A, B and C; three is D, E and F, and . . . so on," Jack surmised.

"Right!" I said, printing the numbers and letters in the appropriate places on my hand-drawn dial.

"So, if each number can be one of three different letters, how do you know which it is?"

"Trial and error, Jack. . . Here—give me a piece of that blank paper. . . Thanks," I said as he did so. I proceeded to write the first two numbers on the paper; then, above the numbers, I put the three letters that corresponded with each. Above the number 4, I wrote G, H and I; above the number 6 I put M, N and O. "Let's see . . . it could be GO . . . or it could be HO, but that's not very likely . . ."

"Or it could be IN," said Jack.

I nodded. "Yeah, it could."

"So, we've got either 'in' or 'go'," said Jack. "How do we figure out which one it is?"

"By working on the second word. It shouldn't be too hard: it's another two-letter word."

"Number eight and then six again," Jack pointed out.

I wrote 8 and 6 on the paper and put T, U and V over the eight and M, N and O over the six again.

"TO," Jack and I said together.

I smiled. "You're getting the hang of it, bro."

"Yeah. Looks to me like it should be 'go to.' I mean, if it was 'in to' it would be one word, wouldn't it?"

I nodded. "Probably. So, Dad's telling us where we need to go."

"I'd like to tell him where to go . . ."

"Jack, let's not get distracted."

"Okay, okay. So, where do we go to?"

I gritted my teeth. "This next word is kind of a long one, but it has an apostrophe near the beginning and another one near the end, so there's a good chance the first letter is an O—"

"You're thinking it's an Irish name of some kind?"

I nodded. "Exactly. If the number were three, I'd think it was something French or Italian, with a D in front; but, since it's 6, it's very probably an O."

"And the last letter is probably S. Does that match the given number?" Jack asked

"Seven? Yeah, I think it does."

"So, what kind of a place name do we know that's long and very probably Irish?"

"Well," I said with a sigh as I put the remaining numbers on the paper, "let's have a look and see what we can come up with."

After several minutes of work, we discovered that the name in question was "O'Shaugnessey's." It took us only a split second to look at each other and say in unison, "O'Shaugnessey's Outpost", which was a place we had frequented with Dad whenever we went up to the cabin, or camped out during hunting season. It had been a while since either of us had been there.

"O-kay," said Jack slowly. "So, we go to O'Shaugnessey's. Then what?"

I shrugged. "Let's find out."

It took about two hours—plus half a dozen donuts and five cups of coffee between us—before we worked out the entire puzzle. It read, "Go to O'Shaugnessey's Outpost. From there, head approximately three miles due south to Bear Log Hollow. Reach into the cavity in the bole of the tree closest to the log. Remove the plastic bag."

When I expressed confusion, Jack explained to me about Bear Log Hollow:

"Dad and I went camping there once when I was a freshman in high school. Mom was pregnant with you at the time and wasn't feeling well. She wanted us out of her hair for a while. . ..

"Anyway, there we were, sitting on a couple boulders—roasting wienies and marshmallows over a campfire—when this big, old black bear came lumbering into sight, roaring at us. We dropped everything, high-tailed it back to the Land Rover and waited while the bear trashed our camp—including the tent. After he'd eaten all our food, he started playing with this hollow log that was lying on the ground about twenty feet or so from where we'd been sitting on the boulders. It'd still been light when we got there, so we'd noticed a few bees coming and going from the log for a while until they'd settled down for the night. But, Dad figured if we left them alone, they'd leave us alone, and they did. The bear, however, wasn't that smart. He smelled honey, and he wasn't going to let a few sleeping bees stop him from getting it. He got his honey all right, but he also got stung all over his face for his trouble. He dropped the log and ran off. Dad and I stayed in the Land Rover till the bees settled back down. It was night by then and they were tired, so it didn't take them long to go back to sleep, once they realized the bear was gone.

"After that, we got out some more food and finished having dinner. Under the circumstances, we decided to spend the night in the Land Rover instead of the tent, especially since the bear had thoroughly trashed it. From that day on, we called the place 'Bear Log Hollow'. It just seemed to . . . fit."

"Yeah, I guess it does. . . So, when do you wanna go to O'Shaugnessey's?"

"How about tomorrow morning? It'll take us some time to drive up there, and then we'll leave the Jeep and hike our way to Bear Log Hollow. (We could drive on into the camp area, but just in case Dad's keeping an eye out for us on the road, I prefer to go in covertly.) Is the Boy Scout compass still tucked away in your room somewhere?"

I nodded. "Yeah, I think so. Unless Dad took it, it should be."

"Why don't you look for it after you have dinner tonight? . . . Speaking of which, you're going to have to fend for yourself: I've got a date with Darla. She's making dinner for me."

"Of course she is." I sighed. "I guess I can call Pizza Hut or something."

"Make it a large and we'll have the leftovers for lunch tomorrow."

"Half cheese and peppers and half meat lovers?"

"Are you still a vegetarian?"

"You make it sound like it's a crime!"

"It is! Man, think of all the great tastes and textures you're missing out on!"

"Think of all the calories and cholesterol I'm saving myself from. . .."

"You worry too much."

"You don't worry enough."

"We are soooo different."

"You can say that again."

"Why did Dad ever think this would work?"

"Jack, it is working. He didn't expect us to change who we are, or for one of us to turn into a carbon copy of the other. He just wanted us to learn to work together and to get along, that's all. We don't have to have similar likes and dislikes to be able to coexist and cooperate."

"I guess that's true. . . So, half cheese and peppers, and half meat lovers. Works for me."

"And if Darla has any leftovers from dinner . . ."

Jack smiled. "I'll bring you a doggie bag."

"Woof."

"What say we call it quits for today and go to Manny's Pub for a beer? Darla's not expecting me until seven . . ."

I shrugged. "Why not? But we're only having one. You need to stay sober if you're going to drive home afterward—and all the way out to Mile High Village later—not to mention home again after dinner. . . Uh, you do plan to come home after dinner, don't you?"

Jack looked daggers at me. "Yeah, Mac, I'm coming home. I told you before . . ."

I nodded. "Yes, I know: Darla's not that kind of girl. But Jack, what if she wantsto be?"

"I won't let her. I can't."

"Because it's Darla."

"Yeah. Because it's Darla."

'Nough said. Jack got his keys and we headed for Manny's.