Jerry swabbed his plate clean with a crust of bread. “That was delicious, Mrs. Stern.”
“That’s an understatement,” Sandy said, “considering that you had three portions.”
“I know I made a hog of myself,” Jerry admitted. “But when I bag one of those big Kodiaks tomorrow, you can fill up your freezer with steaks.”
Mrs. Stern smiled. “That’s very thoughtful of you, Jerry.”
Chris Hanson looked amused. “You ever done any hunting before, Jerry?”
“No, but I’m on the high-school rifle team back home.”
Sandy winked at Chris. “He’s the guy they’re talking about when they say, ‘He couldn’t hit the side of a barn.’”
Jerry reddened as everyone laughed, and glared at Sandy. “I suppose you think you’re Davy Crockett?”
“Seriously, though,” Professor Stern interjected, “a bear hunt can be very dangerous. Some of these brutes on Kodiak are virtually indestructible. And when they’re wounded—well, just watch out. There’s an old saying among hunters that you’ve got to kill a Kodiak with your first shot, or you never will kill him. I’ve heard men who have stalked lions, tigers—all kinds of big game—concede that a Kodiak is the most fearsome of all beasts.”
“On second thought,” Jerry said gravely, “maybe I’ll just stay back here and play Scrabble with the ladies.”