“How are we going to ...” Mike began.
They looked at each other and grinned.
“After you, my dear Alphonse.” Mike bowed solemnly. “You’re the guest.”
“Go ahead, Sandy,” Mr. Cook invited.
Sandy leaned forward in his chair. “I was going to ask if I should send for my rifle. I have a .22 at home.”
Mr. Cook laughed and put down his pipe. “I don’t think you’d use it once, Sandy,” he said. “This is big-game country we’re going into. We’ll see mule deer and elk, pronghorn antelope and mountain goats. If we’re lucky we may even spot a grizzly or a bighorn sheep. And we’re almost certain to run into a mountain lion or two.”
“A mountain lion,” Sandy breathed. “What a trophy that would make. I bet Pepper March never even saw a mountain lion!”
“Who’s Pepper March?” Mr. Cook asked.
Sandy scowled. “Somebody I know back home,” he said.
Mr. Cook smiled. “You don’t seem to like him much.”