"They don't hunt very well when they're sick," said Thurman. "And that of course, is my only concern for them." He smiled at his hunting partner, then motioned him over to the fire. "Have a cup of coffee while we're waiting."
Karsten walked over to the center of the little forest clearing where they had built the fire. "Might as well have a cup, I guess," he said. His face, furrowed with deep lines that had taken half a life-time to create, wore a slight frown. "But I wish that Emmett would get back. What's the sense of hiring a hunting guide if he's not around to take care of things for you? I'm getting hungry."
Thurman laughed at him. "If you'd worry more about where we're going to hunt instead of spending all your time thinking about your stomach, we'd probably have better luck," he said. He poured a cup of sweet brown coffee for both of them, then passed one of the cups to Karsten. "Emmett probably couldn't get the Warden on the phone right away." Thurman, who had once been something of an athlete, began to laugh, his heavy-set body shaking gently with the expressed mirth. "If the worst comes to the worst, Bill, we could fix our own breakfast, you know."
Karsten uttered a sigh. "Hunting just isn't what it used to be. Sometimes I wonder why I bother to come out at all." He settled down comfortably on a collapsible chair and looked around him. He could just see the top of a tall metal fence a few hundred yards away—the stout circle of steel that engirdled the Game Preserve, cutting it off from the rest of the world.
"You come hunting for the same reason that I do, Bill Karsten. Because you love the thrill of the sport," Thurman told him. "Because there's nothing like it in the world—the bright open air, the smell of a green forest, and the pleasure of pitting yourself against the hunted. That's why you come hunting."
Karsten shrugged. "I suppose you're right, but—" He stopped in mid-sentence, interrupted by the sound of trampled underbrush. "Oh, here's Emmett back."
Emmett Packer, registered hunting guide, came from behind a clump of bushes into the little clearing in the woods. His bright yellow hunting jacket reflected a dazzling pattern of sunlight and shadows in striking contrast to the man's weathered complexion and dark black hair. He waved a muscular arm at his employers.
"Sorry I took so long, boys," he said, walking towards them. "But I had trouble getting the Warden on the car telephone. The line was busy." Emmett poured himself a cup of coffee. "But I finally got ahold of him, and he'll be along in a little while. And the horses are all lined up for us at the Gate. So we shouldn't have any trouble at all."
"Good," said Thurman.