"Open that, young man!" Allison snapped. The young man hesitated a moment then unhooked the wire and pulled it back. The crowd marched through and took up positions among The Spiritists. The sheriff was bewildered for a few minutes, then smiled.
"Well, go ahead!" he ordered. "Start picking them up." His deputies made their way through the wire, looked around, then sat down. A cheer and applause rose from the demonstrators. "Major," the sheriff snapped. Without a word the major walked through the wire and sat down. One by one his men joined them, dropping their rifles on the ground. The sheriff looked to the state police who shook their heads and only held their positions.
A car drove up. A man rushed out and handed something to the sheriff. The sheriff opened it, and read it, a broad smile filled his face. He picked up a bullhorn. "Ladies and gentlemen," he called, "The Vermont Supreme Court has made a decision in this dispute. They return the snowmobile trails to the owners of the resort to do with as they see fit! IT'S OVER!" A cheer rose up and down the trail.
"National guardsmen," the sheriff continued, "would you be so kind as to pack this equipment up and get it out of here? We're going home!"
In a few hours it was all cleaned up. The Spiritists rendered the trail impassible in three days. One afternoon the sheriff drove up to the resort and stopped in front of the old shelter. "Tell my wife," he snapped, "I've rented a house in town, to grab some of her things and get to hell out here! She can have the rest sent down later."
"Yes sir!" the guard snapped.
In a few minutes Phil emerged, getting into the passenger seat and several suitcases were quickly piled in the back.
"You were ready I see!" the sheriff growled.
"We're always ready!" his wife answered.

Page 49