small law firm. Stan, the larger one of the two, stepped off the van, nearly tripping. He was followed by his brother, Randy, a lanky man compared to Stan.

"Welcome to the Great Plains," Carl said.

Stan looked at him strangely, "Hi."

"So," said Randy, squinting at the snow-peaked mountains rising above and to the right of the cabin, "that's a mountain." He sounded hardly impressed by the sight.

"We'll be going up that very one on the trip, as a matter of fact," Carl informed him with a smile.

Randy nodded, then asked, "You never did say what we'd be hunting? Deer? Bear? Rabbits?"

"You'll find out soon enough, once we get started up Mt. Kilmore. It's a surprise; believe me you'll be surprised," Carl snickered.

Randy didn't seem too pleased with the comment. "I don't like surprises too much, Mr. Olstien."

"Oh, you'll love this one Mr. Hemmingway."

Grunting, Randy started towards the cabin.

"You and your brother will be staying in room 2, left of the bar, down the hall," Carl called after him.

Randy nodded as he drew closer to the entrance of the cabin.

"Never mind my brother, Mr. Olstien. He's really a great person, once you get to know him that is. Me, I love surprises, especially if free food is included," Stan told Carl, rubbing and patting his stomach with a silly grin on his face.

Loud barking suddenly disrupted the peaceful air. Carl turned toward the barking, as did Stan, to see a large brown mutt yelping at the defenseless Randy who was trying his best to remain cool.

"Barky!" Hollered out Carl.

The dog instantly hearing his master's voice ceased barking and scurried over to where Carl was, his tail wagging nearly invisible behind him.

"Leave the guest alone. Soon boy. Soon." Carl told him as he rubbed at the mutt's mangy fur. Barky returned his master's kindness, lapping Carl's face.

"Barky . . . I like that," Stan said as he started towards the cabin.

The next person off the van was Mr. Pete Zander, a life insurance salesman. Carl said the usual things said when meeting a new person and directed the salesman to his room. Carl found it odd that the man didn't try to sell him any policies--perhaps Mr. Zander, Carl speculated as he saw the last hunter enter the cabin, was truly vacationing?

"That will be five hundred and sixty bucks Mr. Olstien," the driver informed Carl behind the steering wheel, sunshine glancing off his dark sunglasses.

"You've gone up just a little Bobby," Carl informed him as he handed the driver six one hundred dollar bills from his wallet.

"Inflation, Mr. Olstein. It hits everywhere," he said, taking the money from the old man's hand.

"Keep the change," Carl told him, smiling.

The driver smiled back.