Earl Robinson said solemnly:
"Those snow snakes bite before you can go ten feet. We had a little trouble, Norm."
Boody found a half filled bottle in his coat and passed it around.
"Bad country to drive in a storm," he said.
"Worse than usual," Robinson said. "There is a dead man laying down the road a mile or two."
Norm Boody gulped from the bottle, choked and spewed the whiskey on the snow.
"It—wasn't Bill, was it?"
Robinson shook his head.
"No one I know. Dressed in hunter's outfit. Didn't find his gun. Probably buried under the snow."
Boody sighed. He looked uncertain.