Walter didn’t find himself out on the spot very often, and he knew he would be called upon only when his uncanny sense of direction—a special skill he’d acquired from hunting in the bush in his native Australia—was needed. The last time he’d been out was years ago when Billy and his brother, Jim, had been on a summer bivouac with the Civil Air Patrol. Because of Walter’s tracking ability, he had been pressed into service as a spotter.

But he had not hunted for a very long time.

So this afternoon he took it upon himself to borrow Ragens handgun from the top of the refrigerator. Though it was hardly a substitute for a rifle, it was better than nothing. He listened to the weather report; hearing that it was cold, he decided to bring a mackinaw and gloves. Unable to find his Aussie hat with the pinned-up brim, he settled for a ski mask. He packed a lunch and set off south on Route 664. He knew instinctively what direction to follow. South would lead him to wooded areas where he could hunt to his heart’s content. He got off the highway and followed the signs to Hocking State Park, wondering what game he would find.

He drove into the forest, parked the car and began to walk. As he pressed deeper into the woods, the pine needles felt slippery beneath his feet. He breathed deeply. It was good to be out on the spot, moving through the silence of the wilderness.

He walked for nearly an hour. Besides an occasional scurry that told him squirrels were about, there was no sign of game. It was almost dusk. He was growing impatient when he saw a fat black crow on the branch of a spruce. He quickly aimed and fired. The bird fell. Suddenly he felt dizzy and left the spot …

“Barbarian,” Arthur said coldly. “Killing animals is against the rules.”

“Vy he take my gun?” Ragen demanded.

“You left it unsecured,” Arthur said. “That was against the rules too.”

“Not true. Ve have agreed one veapon should alvays be available, out of children’s reach, in case of intruder. Valter did not have right to take it.”

Arthur sighed. “I really liked the chap. Energetic, reliant young man. Good sense of direction. Always reading about Australia, and after all, it is part of the British Empire. He once suggested I investigate the evolution of the kangaroo. Now I’m afraid hes undesirable.”

“Is severe penalty for one crow,” Ragen said.

Arthur gave him a withering stare. “The time may come when you have to kill a human being in self-defense, but I will not tolerate taking the life of a poor dumb creature.”

Arthur buried the crow and walked back to the car. Allen, who had heard the last part of the conversation, moved onto the spot behind the wheel and drove home.

“Killing a dumb crow and thinking he’s a big-game hunter— what a stupid twerp!”

(2)