"Wonder how many we'll get this year?" asked Thurman after a while.
Emmett looked up from his chores. "If you boys will just follow my directions, you'll get the limit." He smiled proudly. "My hunters always come back with the limit. You know that."
Karsten harrumphed. "I saw some of the sorry specimens you dug up for the Kilpatricks last year. And I must say," he continued, "they were the poorest excuses for human beings I've ever seen."
Emmett frowned and started to answer, but Thurman spoke first. "That reminds me, Bill. If we bring back any bodies this year, Martha says we'll have to wrap them up first."
"What's the matter with Martha?" asked Karsten. "She doesn't really object to the sight of naked bodies lashed to the front fenders of your car, does she?"
With a laugh, Thomas Thurman said, "No. Martha doesn't object to our displaying the spoils of the hunt. But she says that last year the blood spoiled the finish of the car. And I don't want to have it repainted again this year." He sighed softly. "Just one of her whims, I guess."
"Breakfast is ready," said Emmett.
The high-pitched whine of rotor blades interrupted their meal. The three men watched the bright blue helicopter drop slowly out of the sky and come to a gentle landing at one edge of the clearing. Once the plane's engine had stopped and the blades were no longer twirling, the door to the air-craft opened and out stepped a rotund figure dressed in a uniform the same sky-blue color as that of the plane. He bounced, more than walked, towards the seated trio.
"Good day! Good day, gentlemen!" the Warden called out as soon as he was within earshot. "Oh, please don't get up on my account."