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between Twilly and the stranger； who clearly was no tourist。 The man wore a rumpled houndstooth suit and ankle…high leather shoes with zippers。 He had a blond dye job and a chopped haircut that belonged on somebody with pimples and a runny nose。
〃Down！〃 Twilly said to McGuinn。
But the Lab kept snapping and snarling； his lush coat bristling like a boar's。 Twilly was impressed。 Like Desie； he believed animals possessed an innate sense of danger…and he believed McGuinn's intuition was correct about the out…of…place stranger。
〃Obedience school；〃 the man said。 〃Or try one of those electrified collars。 That'll do the trick。〃
〃He bite you？〃 Twilly's tone made it clear he was not stricken with concern for the stranger's health。
〃Naw。 We're just playing。 What's his name？〃
〃You might be playing；〃 Twilly said to the man； 〃but he's not。〃
McGuinn lowered himself on all fours。 He rumbled a low growl and panted unblinkingly。 His haunches remained bunched and taut； as if readying to launch at the stranger。
〃What's his name？〃 the man asked again。
Twilly told him。
〃Sounds Irish；〃 the man remarked。 His eyes cut back and forth between Twilly and the dog。 〃You Irish？〃 he said to Twilly。
〃You'll have to do better than this。〃
The stranger acted innocent。 〃What do you mean？ I'm just trying to be friendly。〃
Twilly said； 〃Cut the shit。〃
The weather was ing up on them fast。 A cold raindrop hit the side of Twilly's neck。 The man with the spiky hair took a fat one on the nose。 He wiped it dry with the sleeve of his jacket。
〃Rain'll ruin those shoes of yours；〃 Twilly said； 〃in about two minutes flat。〃
〃Let me worry about the footwear；〃 the stranger said； but he glanced down anyway at his feet。 Twilly knew he was thinking about how much the brown leather shoes had cost。
〃McGuinn！ Let's go。〃 Twilly clapped his hands loudly。
The dog wouldn't move； wouldn't shift his stare from the man in the musty…smelling suit。 The Labrador had retained little from his short…lived time as a hunting dog in training； but one thing that had stayed with him was an alertness to guns。 A human with a gun carried himself in a distinctly different manner。 The Palmer Stoat who clomped through the marsh with a 20…gauge propped on his shoulder practically was a separate species from the Palmer Stoat who each night clipped McGuinn to a leash and covertly led him next door to crap on the neighbor's garden。 To Stoat and his human hunter friends； the transformation in themselves…bearing； gait； demeanor and voice…was so subtle they didn't notice； yet it was glaringly obvious to McGuinn。 A visual sighting of the gun itself was superfluous； humans who carried them had an unmistakable presence。 Even their perspiration smelled different…not worse； for in the ever…ripe world of dogs there was hardly such a thing as a bad odor。 Just different ones。
For a moment the stranger acted as if he wanted to make friends。 He reached a hand beneath his moldy…smelling coat and said； 〃Here； boy。 I've got something you'll like 。。。 〃
McGuinn； cocking his head； licking his chops； never taking his hopeful brown eyes off the stranger's hand； which emerged from under the coat with 。。。
The gun。 Had to be。
Now； from behind； the Labrador heard the young man say：
〃Stay； boy。 Don't move！〃
Never had McGuinn detected such urgency in a mand。 He decided； on a whim； to obey。
There was another gun…toting human on Toad Island： Krimmler； who had taken to carrying a loaded 。357 after Robert Clapley's hired freak accosted him in the Winnebago。
The pistol added to Krimmler's nervousness； and he had plenty of time to be nervous。 Construction on the Shearwater resort project remained suspended？ and the lush new quiet on the island made Krimmler restless and edgy…it was the very sound of Nature； gradually reclaiming the ground plowed up by his beloved bulldozers。 One morning he was appalled to find a green shoot sprouting in the old dirt tracks of a front…end loader。 A baby tree！ Krimmler thought； ripping it from the soil。 A baby tree that would otherwise grow to be a tall chipmunk…harboring tree！
The tranquillity that had once merely annoyed Krimmler now turned him into a paranoid basket case。 At night he slept with the 。357 under his pillow； half…certain he accidentally would shoot off his own ear while groping for the gun in a moment of dire need。 By day he tucked it in the front of his pants； half…certain he accidentally would shoot off his genitals if danger surfaced。
Krimmler did not； as it turned out； shoot off any of his own body parts。 He went for the 。357 exactly once； dislodging it from his waistband and knocking it all the way down his baggy right pants leg。 It landed with a clunk on the flimsy floor of the construction trailer； where it was retrieved by the smiling bald…headed bum with the racing flag around his waist。
〃You rascal；〃 the bum said to Krimmler。
〃Gimme that！〃 Krimmler exclaimed。
The bum tapped the bullets out of the cylinder； then handed the empty gun to the engineer。
〃Good way to shoot off your pecker；〃 the bum remarked。
〃What do you want！〃
〃I'm looking for a young man； a woman and a dog。 A black Labrador retriever。〃
Krimmler said； 〃What is this！ Don't tell me you work for Mr。 Clapley； too？〃
The bald bum began twirling the long； grungy…looking braids of his beard。 Some sort of shrunken…looking artifact was attached to each end。
He said； 〃The Lab might be missing an ear。 Other parts； too。〃
〃I'll you tell you the same thing I told that other guy；〃 Krimmler said。 This bounty hunter was even bigger and worse…dressed than Mr。 Gash。 He also had a bad eye； which made him appear even more unstable。
〃I don't know where your boy is；〃 Krimmler said； 〃or his goddamned dog； either。 If he's not camping at the beach； he's probably at the b…and…b。 Or maybe he left the island。 Tourists sometimes do； you know。〃
The bum said； 〃I don't work for Clapley。〃
〃I knew it； you asshole！〃
〃I work for Governor Richard Artemus。〃
〃Right；〃 said Krimmler； 〃and I'm Tipper Gore。〃
〃One question； sir。〃
〃Go fuck yourself；〃 Krimmler said； 〃but first go take a bath。〃
That's when the bum slapped Krimmler。 He slapped him with an open hand…Krimmler saw it ing。 Slapped him with an open hand so hard it knocked Krimmler unconscious for forty…five minutes。 When he awoke； he was naked and halfway up a tall pine tree； wedged loosely in the crotch of three branches。 The scratchy bark was murder on his armpits and balls。 His jaw throbbed from the blow。
The sky had clouded and the wind had kicked up cold from the west。 Krimmler felt himself swaying with the tree。 On a nearby limb sat the bum in the racing…flag skirt。 He was sipping a cream soda and reading （with his normal eye） a paperback book。
He glanced up at Krimmler and said： 〃One question； sir。〃
〃Anything；〃 Krimmler said weakly。 He had never been more terrified。 The treetops undoubtedly were full of goddamned squirrels； mean as timber wolves！
The bum said； 〃What 'other guy'？〃
〃The one with the snuff tape。〃
〃Tell me more。〃 The bum closed his book and put it in the pocket of his rain jacket； along with his empty cream…soda can。
〃He had a tape of som