He brought the shovel down and thrust it under the bed and then jumped back, dropping the shovel and knocking over the night stand. The girls screamed. They saw the snake's tail disappearing beneath the fallen nightstand and both Jack and Bill jumped back like reluctant hunters stalking a dangersous prey. Brenda screamed out and clutched Marcie as the snake shot out from the nightstand and wiggled back toward the dresser. Jack swung a pillow at it and the feathers flew as the seams on the pillow split. Bill hacked at the floor with his machete.

"I got it! I got it!"

"Kill it!"

"I got 'em!"

Thwack.

The machete thunked onto the floor, chopping the head off the snake. Bill brought it down twice more for good measure.

"Is it dead?" whispered Alice, swallowing hard.

"Either that or it's got a very short clone," said Ned.

Alice made a sound of disgust.

"Well," sighed Marcie, "At least we know what's for dinner."

"Uhhh…" Brenda moaned with disgust, picking up a pillow and swinging it hard at Marcie's head as the girl ducked.

"Marcie!" said Alice.

"How gross!" said Ned.

Bill picked up the pieces of the snake with the machete and threw them out the door into the bushes. The girl who'd been hired to cook still hadn't arrived so they were left to their own devices for supper. Steve Christy still hadn't returned. Alice reminded them that he said he would be back sometime that evening, so they decided not to wait for him. They trooped into the kitchen to check out supplies. Brenda found some greens in the refrigerator.

"I'm making salad," she announced, "Do you want me to go ahead and make some for everybody?"

"That'd be great," said Marcie.

They had all worked up an appetite and nobody felt like sandwiches and chips again.

"Oh, and I think there's some hamburger in there too."

"Nothing for me, thank you," said Brenda, who was a vegetarian. She made a face at the thought of eating red meat.

"There are some apples though. You know how to make apple pie?"

"Oh, sure," Marcie said, "No sweat."

They heard the sound the rumbling sound of a big motorcycle approaching. Brenda glanced out the window.

"Uh oh," she said, "Look who's coming."

They went outside and watched Officer Dorf pulling up on his big Harley, having a little trouble steering it over the rutted dirt road. He looked like authority, incarnate and his freshly pressed and sharply creased uniform, his spit-shined riding boots, his police helmet, leather gauntlets and mirrored shades. He pulled up to the front of the cabin and dismounted, leaning the big Harley on its side stand and looking them over as only a cop looks people over as potential perpetrators. Ned chose that unfortunate moment to be Ned.