Northern Borders by Howard Frank Mosher Page B

Austen?”
    â€œI’ll take him up on my farm. I’ve got plenty of work he can do up there. We can keep each other company when the boy’s off at school. An elephant’s the best company there is for a fella who understands them and doesn’t abuse them.”
    â€œNo one can prove I ever abused that animal,” Show said. “It cannot be proved.”
    My grandfather made a harsh sound in his throat, a sardonic approximation of a laugh. But I was thunderstruck by his announcement that he would take Hannibal home with us. I wanted to shout out loud. An elephant! An elephant on the Farm in Lost Nation. Through my mind flashed a wildly improbable montage of Hannibal plowing our cornfields, Hannibal hauling logs out of the woods to my grandfather’s sawmill, Hannibal pulling our hay wagon and myself high on the load of hay, driving him. Then almost as quickly I was overcome by a great wave of despair. Surely such a marvel as this could never come to pass, except maybe in one of my storybooks.
    â€œI’ll pay the fine and take the elephant,” my grandfather repeated.
    â€œLike hell you will!” Mr. Hill said. “I intend to haul that animal out to the gravel pit and shoot it, Austen Kittredge. He half-killed my boy.”
    â€œYou’ve nearly killed him yourself a dozen times over,” my grandfather said. “But you aren’t going to harm that elephant. No

one is. I said I’ll pay the hundred dollars. I’ll pay it by ten o’clock tonight. In the meantime, Kip, you better stand guard over Hannibal so nobody gets an itchy trigger finger. Mason, you might want to escort these people”—nodding at Show and Mrs. Twist—“to the county line. The quicker they get out of here the better. Is that fair?”
    â€œI guess it is,” Justice Pierce said after a pause. “But where are you going to get a hundred dollars between now and ten o’clock, Austen?”
    â€œYes, how do I know I’ll get my money?” Mr. Hill said.
    My grandfather looked at him. “Did I say you’d get it, Preston?”
    â€œWell,” Preston T. Hill said.
    â€œYou wouldn’t be questioning my word?” my grandfather said softly.
    â€œThe written law says forfeit the animal or pay the fine or both,” Justice Pierce said. “If Austen can pay the fine and guarantee the public safety, as he says . . .”
    â€œCan you keep the last of the great ivory hunters here off Hannibal until ten o’clock?” my grandfather said. He jerked his head at Mr. Hill.
    â€œNobody,” Kip said, “but nobody, will touch one hair on this elephant’s hide until ten tonight.”
    â€œIf you ain’t here at ten sharp with the money, I intend to shoot him,” Mr. Hill said.
    â€œWell,” my grandfather said, “I intend to be here, Preston. With the money. If only to deprive you of the great satisfaction of slaughtering an elephant shut up in a truck.”
    â€œAre you folks all set to skedaddle on out of here?” Sheriff White said to Show.
    â€œI don’t know,” Show said slowly. “One hundred dollars is a mighty cheap price to pay for the third largest land animal in captivity. Especially when I’m not getting nothing out of it.”
    â€œYou’re getting out of having the elephant shot, damn it,” Kip said. “I thought you didn’t want the elephant shot.”
    â€œHe’s old anyway,” Show said. “I don’t know as I want this fella to have the benefit of him.”
    â€œMister,” Kip said, “I am giving you one last chance to get out of this mess and this county scot-free, with a safe-conduct escort from

Sheriff White. Or would you rather go to jail for a hundred days? Because you are one half step away from there this minute.”
    â€œGet in the truck,” Show said to Mrs. Twist. “We’ll go back down to Albany and