Noble looked at his bigger brother with suspicion. “What about your math homework?” he asked. Argus hadn’t cracked a book.

“We didn’t get any homework,” he answered.

Harlan stopped putting on his jacket. “We did too,” he said. “All the questions on page 112.”

Argus shrugged. “I didn’t hear Mr. Surujpaul assign anything.”

Harlan was having trouble believing that. Although each member of the pack had math at a different time, they were all taking the same course. “Are you sure you didn’t just not hear the assignment?” he asked.

Argus shook his head. “Nope.”

Tora appeared in the doorway. “What’s going on?”

Harlan tilted his head in Argus’s direction. “He says he didn’t get any homework from Mr. Surujpaul.”

“Uh-uh,” said Tora. “I was just talking to Maria Abruzzo and she’s got math homework tonight.”

Argus gave a little sneer. “What does Maria Abruzzo know?”

Tora folded her arms across her chest. “Well, for one, she happens to be in your class.”

“Really?”

“Yes. She even sits next to you.”

“Oh.”

“Time to go,” Phyllis called from the hallway. “The ranger doesn’t want to be late.”

Noble, Tora, and Harlan all looked at Argus. “If Mr. Surujpaul gave us homework, I’ll get it from someone else in the morning,” he said, leaving the room.

“That stuff was hard,” Harlan said, when Argus was gone. “Even for me.”

“Maybe we should tell the ranger or Phyllis about Argus,” said Tora. “Or at least try to help him if he’s struggling.”

“I’ve already tried that,” said Harlan. “I don’t think he wants our help.”

“Harlan’s right,” said Noble. “We’ll help Argus if he asks, but if he’s going to fail, he’ll do that all on his own.”

* * *

The largest meeting room in the Redstone Community Center, the R.H. Gray Memorial Hall, was named after Robert Hampton Gray, the last Canadian to win a Victoria Cross in World War II.

But the history and sanctity of the room had little to do with what was going on in the hall on this night. It was crammed with Redstone citizens, and the din of voices could be heard outside, all the way to the parking lot. A slight pall of tobacco smoke hung in the air as several of Redstone’s old-timers ignored the town’s no-smoking bylaw, lighting up their pipes, cigarettes, and cigars.

“The natives are restless,” said Ranger Brock, as he got out of the car.

“Ernie Ilson must have called all of his friends,” Phyllis said.

“No,” the ranger said, laughing under his breath. “Ernie doesn’t have any friends. He must have called his enemies, or maybe everyone he owes money to.”

Phyllis came around the front of the car and put a hand on the ranger’s shoulder. “It won’t do you any good to go in there angry.”

Ranger Brock nodded and took a deep, deep breath.