Gary asked in annoyance, “What's the matter with him?”
“Scared, lonely, lost. He is Harry's father.” The former merchant paused in speculation. “I suppose I'll have to look after him if Harry doesn't come back.”
Gary fingered the stock of the shotgun, tracing it with his fingertips. “This is a new one on me. What is it?”
“The gun? A Browning Automatic, one of the best of my stock. You'll find it an excellent weapon: full choke and the very best steel, the magazine holds five shells in addition to a sixth in the chamber. The retail price is a hundred and twelve dollars.”
“Knock it off, I'm not going to buy it. Got shells?”
“Yes, quite a few. In Harry's bag, there…”
“Thanks,” Gary said dryly.
“I'd like to ask one more question if I may?”
“What?”
“This afternoon when we came upon you sitting there in the field, fussing with the underwater apparatus… eh, you knew we were behind you, didn't you?”