"Buffalo," cried the Governor. "Surely it's against the law to kill them?"
The old man ran his dark, heavily veined hand gloatingly over the bison's hump and down the shoulder. "Tasty. Very tasty."
"You can't do things like this," insisted the Governor.
"Ah," sighed the old man. "Boom boom."
Lampley came closer. There were no signs of the buffalo having been shot. Its throat was cut and dark blood had congealed around the jagged wound. The old man picked out several clots of dried blood and put them in his mouth, sucking appreciatively. He rubbed his cheek against the head of the animal. "Soft," he said. "See yourself."
The Governor drew back.
The old man stared contemptuously at him. "No wonder."
"How do I get out of here?" asked Lampley.
The old man gestured indifferently. "Try that way." He waved his arm.