"Great!" The muscular visitor punched Hendley enthusiastically on the arm. "I didn't really want to ask, but I've only got one night, and I certainly don't want to pass up anything special just because I didn't know it was there!"
Hendley nodded. For a moment he couldn't speak, his jaws locked by the pain in his arm. The visitor had hit him lightly, almost playfully, but the blow had carried a numbing force. It was absurd to consider trying to over-power such a man. If he had any suspicion at all, any warning, he could break Hendley's spine with a casual pressure of those thick arms.
But he wouldn't be expecting anything, Hendley thought. He was too excited by the camp's promised pleasures. He would have no reason to suspect anything. And even a powerful man was vulnerable to a blow on the skull by a heavy enough weapon—a rock, for instance, or a makeshift club. All that was necessary was to lure him into a dark, deserted place where a weapon was handy. It needed daring, quickness, determination, but the reward would be worth the risk. Anyway, Hendley had nothing to lose. If the opportunity failed to present itself, he would simply not act. He would be no worse off than he was now.
"Let's start with this place," the visitor suggested, pointing to a nearby building. "What is it?"
"A bowling alley."
The stranger dismissed this sport. "We have those outside. Do you have PIB's here?"
"Of course."
"Better than ours, I'll bet. Can anyone go anytime he wants?"
"Yes."
"Show me."