"Don't worry, Rachel. Colonel Stoneridge will be along any minute now. He's our most senior active member and I've never known him to be late for a hunt."

While the desk clerk's words were reassuring, Rachel still looked at the clock. Eight fifty-eight.

"Greta, he's been a member since before the lodge was opened up to people hunting, hasn't he?"

"Oh, yes. Long before that."

He must be a very senior member, indeed, thought Rachel. Was it really responsible of her to accept a challenge from a man the colonel's age? What if he had a stroke or a heart attack? However, Amanda had not only given him four stars, but she had put a plus sign beside his name.

"Listen, Rachel, if he isn't here by nine o'clock, I'll let you take off anyway," Greta told her.

"No, I want to give the hound a chance to see the rabbit," Rachel replied.

"Well, he isn't going to see the best part of the rabbit if you keep that towel wrapped around your waist."

Rachel was about to explain that she thought it was only respectful to show some modesty before a man of such prestige and advanced years, when she heard a voice behind her.

"Good day, good day. Dreadfully sorry to have kept you waiting."

Rachel turned about and saw an elderly man in a pith helmet, khaki shirt and shorts, boots up to mid calf, and knee-high stockings. He carried a pair of eight and a half by eleven inch notebooks with him. Hooray for Captain Spalding, the African explorer. She wondered if he had ever shot an elephant in his pajamas. (How he got in my pajamas, I'll never know.)

"Colonel Stoneridge, it is indeed an honor to meet you." Rachel extended her hand but wasn't sure if he would shake it or kiss it.

The colonel took her hand, but said, "My pleasure, my dear, my pleasure. But, please, call me Stoney. Everyone about here does. Must maintain a bit of informality, you know. Or, if you prefer, call me Stone. For some reason, the ladies seem to prefer that. And your name, my dear?"

"Rachel. Rachel Jones."

"Rachel, is it? Oh, my! Have you come here to hunt for your children?" A good-natured chuckle. "Sorry about that. Biblical reference, you know. Also, Melville. Don't suppose you've read any Melville, though. Young people don't seem to care for that sort of thing these days, eh?"

"Oh, you mean Moby Dick? No, I haven't read it but I've heard about it."

"How delightful! British education hasn't completely gone to the dogs, now, has it? You really ought to read it sometime, though. Very nice sea story, especially considering it's by an American writer. The Yanks never ruled the waves, you know."

"Quite so." Rachel had almost never used that phrase and she had no idea why it popped out of her mouth now. Also, she didn't know just how many things the colonel would think she was agreeing to.

"Stone," said Greta, "it is time for Rachel to get on her way. In fact, she should have left two minutes ago."

"Oh, well, then, you'd best be off," the colonel said. "But, my dear, you don't intend to run with that white cloth wrapped about you, do you? It will make you very easy to spot from a distance. And, besides, it might trip you up somehow."

"Well, Colo... I mean, Stone, I just thought that, well, in view of your position and your, uh, dignity, your status..." Rachel stammered with embarrassment.

"Perhaps the term you're looking for is 'age.' Is that it, my dear?"

Rachel actually felt herself turning red. "Yes, sir. I mean, Stone. That is what I was thinking of."

"You mustn't worry about that, my child. Oh, no, no, no. I've been to parts of the world where that charming deerskin affair you have on would have made you absolutely overdressed, as it were. If you don't intend to wear that cloth, you may as well get it off now and get over your embarrassment. Otherwise, when I catch up with you, you won't have Greta there to assure you that I won't have a stroke at the sight of a naked woman."

Reluctantly, Rachel handed her towel to Greta.

"Now, isn't that better? Of course it is. Of course it is. Run along now. I'll see you later." The colonel prepared to go to the lounge.

"Stone," Greta said in admonition, "since it's your fault that Rachel is four minutes behind schedule, I'll expect you to wait until ten oh four before you leave."

"Oh, that isn't necessary," Rachel protested. "He can leave at ten sharp, if he wants to. I don't mind."

"Nonsense, my dear. That's sweet of you, but Greta is quite right. Wouldn't be cricket, you know. I'll have no problem catching up with you. Have a good run. Lovely day for it. Lovely day. Be seeing you." The colonel headed for the lounge, opening one of his notebooks as he went.

How wonderfully confident the colonel is, Rachel thought as she walked at leisurely pace toward the woods. I'm quite sure that, unlike Lewis, Stone won't be waiting to catch me in his arms. It's almost impossible, though, to imagine that a sweet old man like that would want to eat me.

Her plan for the day did not include leaving false trails or taking to the trees or covering as much territory as possible. She had no desire to make Stone exert himself unnecessarily. No, today she would concentrate on leaving a single, meandering, irregular trail, but making it is difficult to detect as possible. She also wanted to check out the possibilities that stream held further to the north. She wanted to find as many locations as she could where there it would be possible to leave and enter the stream with minimal chance of being detected. Before heading for the stream, she did drop her snack off at the usual cabin.

Marsha's advice that she find another game to play with Amanda would have been very helpful if it included any concrete application of that very general suggestion. If nothing occurred to Rachel on today's hunt that could be classified as a "new game" and if she didn't have 100% success in eluding Stone, she resolved to abandon the whole matter of the hunt.

Avoiding going more than twenty-five feet in a straight line at a time, Rachel reached the stream at about a quarter before ten. She estimated that she was about two hundred feet upstream from the tree-trunk bridge. Wanting to see how good she was at dead reckoning, she went downstream, came around a bend, and was able to see the stream-spanning tree trunk in the distance. Pleased with herself for her accuracy, Rachel turned about and headed north.

In a very short time, she came to a miniature waterfall that seemed to mark the point at which both banks of the stream became steep and stable. The waterfall was only about a foot and half tall, but it did make a very pleasant sound.

Rachel had heard something about cascading water causing negative ions to be released. She wondered if such ions might affect a tracker's ability to pick up a scent. Any advantage was worth utilizing.

She left the stream just north of the waterfall and headed west, made an irregular loop that took her about a quarter of a mile away from the water and then returned to the stream. A hundred yards or so to the north, she did approximately the same thing on the east side of the stream. She repeated this process again and again, trying not to make the distances between entry and exit points too regular.

By three o'clock, she had come to a point where she was near the cliff with the caves. Very satisfied that she had spent the day well, she decided to head back to the cabin for her tea-time break, traveling with the same apparent randomness that she had exercised so far.

She had not seen a sign of the colonel all day long and speculated that maybe he had become involved in a heated political discussion and wound up never leaving the lounge. Just as well, Rachel figured. The trail she had left was so faint and irregular that he could never have found her anyway.

Rachel looked around for her friendly rabbit before entering the cabin... No sign of him, just like the colonel. She opened the door.

"Good afternoon, Rachel. You're just in time. The tea is almost ready."

"How very thoughtful of you, Colonel, I mean, Stone," Rachel tried to act pleasantly surprised, while thinking to herself, I'm dead, dead, DEAD!

The colonel was seated at a table with a large map of the hunting grounds spread out before him.

"My dear, would you come and correct me if I've made any mistakes?" Stone asked with gentlemanly politeness.

"Why, uh, sure." Rachel moved to a position standing behind the colonel. She was very disturbed by what she saw on the map.

It was a map of the route Rachel had taken. At the point where she entered the woods, a single black line traced her movements. In a very short time, the black line was joined by a red line that, for the most part, ran right beside the black line. The two lines separated at various points, but soon rejoined each other. The separations became fewer and fewer as the lines progressed. Finally, the two lines coincided exactly until the black line stopped and the red line continued alone, leading right to the cabin.

"You see what I've done, I hope." Using his black pen as a pointer, the colonel traced the solo black line from its beginning. "I followed your trail until I got to this point. Then I started making guesses about where you would go from there. My projections are recorded by the red line. Notice how, as I got a firmer understanding of your pattern, the lines remain closer and closer together."

Rachel nodded and said, "Yes," thinking, this cinches it. I don't have a chance. She went to the tea kettle and helped herself to a cup, while listening to the rest of the colonel's explanation.

"Now, when I got to here," the colonel said, indicating the end of the black line, "I thought I would just project the rest of your route and head back here to the cabin more directly so that I could have tea ready for you. Here's where I would be grateful for your assistance. Could you look at the red line from the point where the black line stops and tell me if I managed to predict the rest of your movements correctly?"

Oh, God, why am I even here? Rachel asked herself as she pulled up a chair beside the colonel and checked his projections.

"I don't see where you missed a single turn, Stone. You have my 'pattern' down perfectly. Congratulations." Rachel could not keep the discouragement out of her voice.

"Thank you, my dear. You've been most helpful."

"Glad to oblige. Well, if you don't mind, I'll just grab my carrots and beef jerky and go outside and eat with other helpless bunnies." Rachel began to get up.

"Well, please do stay and have some more tea," the colonel urged, gently placing a hand on her shoulder. "And don't be so disheartened. Remember the saying, 'The fox knows many tricks; the hedgehog knows but one - one good one.' Some Russian said that, as I recall. It was before the Bolshis, though, so you can trust it."

"With all due respect, sir - I'm sorry, I mean, Stone - I don't see how I could feel otherwise. One good trick seems to be one more than I have. Not only could you follow me perfectly, but you even knew where I was going before I did."

"It's only to be expected." Stone placed a hand on the two notebooks he had laid beside the map. "I've been hunting quarry on these grounds for more years than you can imagine. I've got a shelf full of these notebooks at home. I've made an extensive study of how different quarry behave. I've refined my theories many times, many times."

"These theories - how do you arrive at them? I mean, no two runners can be exactly alike, can they?"

"Of course not. But that's what makes this such an interesting challenge." The colonel got up to fetch the tea pot and brought it back to the table as he spoke. "There are, however, certain significant details that emerge after one has amassed a great many facts - or collected data, if you please. Of course, when one is collecting the facts, one has no idea which will be meaningful and which won't. Eventually, though, one is able to put together some theories, then test them and check them and refine them. For example, if I told you that right-handed males who veer to the left of a mulberry bush will tend to pass between a pair of oaks spaced less than five feet apart, you would think I was talking nonsense, wouldn't you."

"No," Rachel shook her head. "At this moment, I would believe anything anyone told me that was consistent with, well, a certain viewpoint I'm developing." Rachel didn't want to expose her own nearly absolute pessimism. She tried to shift her mind from the subject. "I am frankly amazed, though, at how completely you've worked all of this out."

"Thank you, my dear. It's only a hobby, but it gives me something to keep my mind active. I love solving problems."

I wish he could solve mine, Rachel thought. Well, maybe he can. "Sir, I mean, Stone, what would you do if you had a problem that you had been working on for weeks and everything you tried as a solution seemed to come to a dead end? I guess, what I'm asking is when do you know that it's time to give up?"

"Oh, I can answer that for you easily enough. The time to give up is never. Dum spiro, spero. As long as I breathe, I hope."

Rachel grimaced a bit at the thought that she could be hopeful right up until Amanda slit her throat.

The colonel went on. "As for a dead end, there is no such thing. You can always reshuffle your facts. When reason seems to be of no avail, and inspiration has run dry, you can always put the matter in the hands of random chance, perhaps guided by your deepest level of intuition."

"I'm sorry, Stone. I understand what you're saying, but I don't see any practical way to put it to use. And I really wish I could. I really do." Rachel allowed a hint of desperation to creep into her voice.

"This problem that you're trying to solve, my dear. I can tell that it is a matter of grave concern to you."

"Yes," Rachel said with a very weak laugh, "you could say that."

"And you have been looking for a solution with passionate intensity. Do I have that right?"

"Yes."

"And you have collected a great deal of information, but you can't seem to find a way to organize your information in a way that seems to lead to a solution. Do I have that right?"

"Yes. I am at the point of doubting whether a solution exists. In fact, I'm almost positive that one doesn't exist. Either that, or I don't have what it takes to find it," Rachel confessed.

"Let me suggest a possible way that you might proceed. Take one of my notebooks and a pen." The colonel handed these items to Rachel. "Tear out a few pages from the back. Then tear those into small slips. Then write down as many odd facts as you can call to mind concerning your experience in trying to solve this problem. One fact to a slip. You needn't use complete sentences, just a word or phrase that symbolizes the datum. Then spread them out on the table here and look at them. See if you can make new connections. If you can't, the mix the slips up, rearrange them. Try to make new combinations. Juxtapose seemingly unrelated items. Perhaps when you see two pieces of data placed together for the first time, a completely new idea may occur to you. If your deliberate efforts don't yield anything, then turn the slips over and shuffle them or put them into a bowl and draw three or four purely at random. Chance, or perhaps your deepest intuition, may bring together elements that will at least start you thinking in a new direction."

The colonel wasn't promising that this process would work but Rachel did see that, yes, this process could lead to some new thought patterns. Still, it seemed like such a dubious procedure that she wanted to find a polite reason to decline.

"It's very kind of you, but I don't want to waste your paper," Rachel said.

"Nonsense. Come, now. Humor an old man. What harm can it do?"

"None, I guess." Especially since I'm giving up anyway. "I do think, though, that I'll do this outside, if you don't mind." Rachel fetched her snack from the refrigerator.

"That's the spirit. Give it a go. Wind might blow some of the slips away, but that's as good a means of random selection as any. You'll surprise yourself. We'll get a fresh start after tea. I'll stay here and watch television for about a half hour after you leave. I'm sure that your evening pattern will be even more interesting."

Rachel smiled very weakly as she left the cabin.

Almost as soon as she sat down by the door, a rabbit hopped up and joined her.

"Hi." Rachel tossed a handful of carrots on the ground. "Help yourself."

But the rabbit did not seem interested in the carrots. He snuggled up to Rachel's left hip and looked up at her expectantly.

"What? I gave you food. You don't mean that you want me to pet you, do you?" When the rabbit didn't move, Rachel began to stroke its fur. "I guess you've come to console a loser. I do appreciate the company."

She picked up the notebook and pen the colonel had given her. "Nice old gentleman in there gave me some homework to do. I suppose I might as well oblige him."

Rachel opened the notebook and spread it on her lap. The lefthand page she dedicated to the physical characteristics of the hunting ground. Under the broad categories of "Caves and cliff," "Woods and trees," "Stream," and "Clearing," she wrote characteristics or uses she might make of each. For example, under "Stream," she wrote, "Banks, steep," "Banks sloping," "Waterfall," "Log bridge," "Excellent for hiding trail." On the recto sheet, she wrote down other elements that had been a part of her experience: "Amanda," "Marsha," "Male hunters," "Feeding rabbits," "Dreams," and, whimsically, "Prima CD." Some items had very few elements associated with them; she only listed the songs "Old Black Magic" and "I've Got You under My Skin" under the CD. Other items, such as "Marsha," had so many associations that she needed to use abbreviations: for example, "HBB" for "Hunts Bad Boys," "Anc" for "Ancestry," and "RH" for "Redhead."

Making the list took about twenty minutes. Then she went over it to see if there was anything to add. "Vicky" and "Carol" under "Dreams." Two more song titles under "Prima CD."

Rather than tear the pages into tiny scraps, Rachel preferred to study them intact. Ten minutes of staring at the individual items yielded nothing; she could not form a meaningful regrouping.

Random selection?

Well, how can I do that? she wondered.

Since hunting is a blood sport and Rachel was sure she would have to shed some blood eventually if the hunt went on, she decided that she might as well shed a few drops now.

Laying the open notebook on the ground, she stood up, pricked the end of her forefinger with the point of her knife, and let three drops of blood fall onto the two pages.

One drop had landed so that it touched two items on the verso page. Another landed on "Ancestry" under "Marsha." The third drop landed on one of the song titles from the CD.

"Talk about random," Rachel muttered as she sat down again.

The rabbit snuggled up next to her again.

"I'd wager you can make more sense of this hodgepodge than I can," she told the rabbit as she began to stroke its soft fur.

Began to stroke its soft fur.

Began to stroke its soft fur.

Cartoons and WIND IN THE WILLOWS aside, it's pretty silly to imagine that animals study human beings and exchange information about them. However, if there were such a thing as a lagomorph Society for the Study of Human Behavior, Rachel's furry companion would have had a remarkable report to make at the next meeting. The human female who had been gently petting him while staring at some white sheets she had just bled upon suddenly smacked herself on the forehead, grabbed up the white sheets, sprang to her feet, bounced about on her hind legs, bent down, kissed her hand, petted him again, and then bounded off.

The observer might end his report by saying, "And just before she patted me on the head, she told me I was 'eeka.' I took it as a compliment, but I don't know what it means." When none of his fellow society members recognized the term and, in fact, questioned whether he had heard correctly, the rabbit would have replied, "Oh, yes. She distinctly said, 'You're eeka.'"

"Colonel Stoneridge, sir, may I take your notebook and pen with me?" Rachel blurted out as she burst through the door of the cabin. "I want to make some notes and calculations."

Somewhat startled at the interruption of the quiz program he was viewing, the colonel looked up and said benignly, "Of course, my dear. Just give it back to me when I catch up with you later."

"Thank you very much, Stone." Rachel bent down and kissed him on the forehead. "I'll be seeing you." With that, she bounded out the door.

"All the young woman needed was a spot of tea to restore her spirits. Works wonders, it does," the colonel told himself as he returned to watching his program.

As soon as she arrived at her destination, Rachel cut a low-hanging branch from a tree and made herself a rough measuring stick using her own height and the length of her foot as standards. Then she conducted a rudimentary survey of the area, sat down, and began to make some calculations in the notebook. She performed a number of experiments to gain some further data, and made some more calculations.

After a half-hour of measuring and calculating, she stood with her arms akimbo looking over the location where she planned to spend several hours on the nineteenth of June. A smile of deep satisfaction came over her face.

"Amanda, I think we've found a new game to play," she declared.

When Stone found her at about six-thirty, she was in the process of utilizing materials she had gathered. It took Stone a moment to see just what she was up to.

"How clever, my dear!" Stone said with a laugh. "I can see that you've been as busy as a..."

"Busy as a bee or a cat on a hot tin roof," Rachel completed his sentence for him. "You won't tell anybody what I'm up to, will you? I'm not making anything permanent. I'll put everything back where I found it."

"You may rely upon me to be the absolute soul of discretion. Mum's the word," he assured her. "In fact, would you like some help?"

"No," Rachel told him as she continued her work. "When this really counts, I'm going to have to do it all myself as fast as possible."

"Mind if I sit here and watch?"

"No, of course not," Rachel said, not stopping her activities. "I know that you won't let Amanda bully you into telling her what I'm up to."

"You mean Amanda Blake? Oh, not likely, my dear. She's a very handsome woman, honorable as the day is long, and the best of her breed of hunters, but a bit full of herself, if you ask me. That one could use a lesson in humility. If she puts herself in my way, I'll give her one."

Rachel wasn't quite sure how to take that. "I don't disagree with you, Stone, but I am a bit surprised. She thinks very highly of you, you know."

"Oh, well she should. Well she should. And I have an admiration of sorts for her. Nevertheless, I won't put up with any nonsense from her." Seeing that Rachel was a little puzzled, Stone added, "I have a black ball, you know."

This did cause Rachel to stop in her tracks. "A... black ball?"

"Yes. I don't like to show it off to people, but I'll show it to Amanda if she gets too uppity. You see, lodge memberships of a certain variety are renewable every year. Any member of the governing board can give thumbs down to any application or reapplication. If she wants to continue be able to hunt here, she had best stay on my good side."

"Memberships of a certain variety? What variety would that be?"

"Well, when we decided to make this lodge available for hunts of Amanda's type, I insisted that there be strict governance of the persons we allowed in. I will admit that Amanda is a cut well above many of the new hunters who take advantage of our grounds. Some of them are outright louts. I've taken the liberty of checking the list of members you've offered yourself to as practice. Mostly a good lot, but this seventh fellow you'll be meeting, Randolf - watch your step with him. One more infraction and he's out on his ear, I promise you. Report any misbehavior on his part to Greta or to me personally."

"I'll keep that in mind."

"Don't let me give you a bad impression of Amanda, for what she is, that is. She's never been cheeky with me. I understand that she's hell on wheels when it comes to defending herself, but she does treat the senior members with respect. Well deserved respect, too. Ha. I was practicing jujitsu and cane-fighting before her parents were born. I could probably still show her a thing or two." The colonel laughed. "Of course, I'd have to do it in slow motion now, wouldn't I? Possibly still photographs, even." Another laugh.

Stone's self-depreciating humor endeared him to Rachel. She could tell that he liked to impart information, so she decided to give him the opportunity.

"Well, you could certainly teach me a great deal more than a thing or two," she said. "I'm far too ignorant on matters of self-defense. What would be the first thing you would teach me if I were your student?"

"Oh, my, my, my. What a question! Let me think that one over for a minute." Stone ruminated and then said, "I suppose it would be never to do more damage than necessary to a person. Take the collar bone, the clavicle, for example. If that gets broken, it isn't at all likely to be fatal, but it can render a person completely helpless."

"I've heard that," Rachel said, continuing about her work.

"On the other extreme, you have to be very careful when striking a person in the nose. Punch a man directly straight-on in the nose and you can kill him with less force than you might think. If your intention is merely cause him discomfort, be careful to strike from the side."

"Interesting. Tell me more."

For the next hour, Rachel labored and listened attentively while Stone talked and enjoyed sight of a lovely young woman bustling about nearly naked.

Finally, it made sense for Rachel to stop and admire the fruits of her labor. She sat down on the grass beside Stone.

"Thank you," she said. "I think you've given me about as much information as I can absorb."

"Oh, you're very welcome, my dear. And I must say, it looks like you've found yourself one good trick."

"Well, I may want more than one. I do have some ideas in that direction."

After a pause, Rachel had to ask the question she had wanted to ask every hunter she had practiced with.

"Stone, would you hunt me for real?"

"Oh, in a minute! Anytime you're willing!"

"Really?" Rachel was taken aback. "I have to admit I'm astonished to hear that."

Stone looked at her oddly. "Why is that?"

"Well, if you'll pardon me for saying so, you just don't seem like the type who would enjoy, well, killing and eating a woman."

"Of course I'm not!" Stone was deeply offended. "Why on earth would I do that? What do you take me for?"

"But you said you would like to hunt me for real."

"Oh!" Stone got to his feet in a state of agitation. "Is that what you think I meant? Oh, good Lord! This is why I resisted opening up the lodge to people-eaters! I told the fellows that after a few years, everybody would think that we were all a bunch of murdering cannibals! I should have fought harder! The lodge functioned for years without that barbarian, libertarian saturnalianism! We never had to go begging for memberships!"

Rachel stood and placed calming hands on his shoulders. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you. I thought that, well, that's what goes on here."

"Oh, you aren't to be blamed, my dear. After all, that is what gets this place mentioned in the newspapers." Stone sat down again. "Maybe someday that's all this place will be. I'm glad I shan't live to see it."

"I'm sorry." Rachel sat beside him, this time touching his thigh with her own. "I didn't know you were opposed to the idea at all, and I never would have imagined that you were so completely disgusted by it."

"Well, don't get me wrong. I can understand the libidinous, sensual aspects of such activity. Or, for that matter, being eaten by a bunch or women - now, there's an exciting thought. But that should be kept in the realm of fantasy, not in reality."

"You've never eaten a woman, then?"

"Oh, I didn't say that, either. When I was a lad, I accompanied my grandfather on a trip to the Dark Continent. A very friendly tribal chief insisted that he serve us one of his wives, roasted, of course. Now, Grandfather didn't approve of 'going native,' but it would have been very awkward to refuse. And, besides, the young woman was quite enthusiastic about it, felt it was a great honor. And she was very tasty, as I recall." Stone was just a tiny bit wistful at the memory, but soon brought himself back to the present. "But as for hunting down a woman and killing her just to eat her, no, I'd never do that.

"You're probably too young to remember," Stone said without being patronizing, "but things were quite different before the Libertarians gained so much influence. Their entire philosophy consists of hardly anything more than adding an 'informed consent clause to a familiar quote from a rather sinister source, 'An [If] it harm none, do what thou wilt; that is the whole of the law.' Don't know if you know who's credited with saying that, but I can tell you he was a right pompous strutting horse's ass who misled a lot of people about many things. Chap named Crowley. Oh, my dear child, never accept uncritically anything that comes from a source like that - land you in a world of trouble, it will."

"I'll try to keep that in mind," Rachel said. "But, tell me, Stone, if you wouldn't kill me and eat me, what WOULD you do if you caught me in a real hunt?"

Stone laughed. "Well, the stakes in a 'real' hunt can be almost anything at all. Twenty or even fifteen years ago, I might have had an answer to that question which you would find rather more interesting. Nowadays, however, well, believe it or not, I have a small garden that I am extremely proud of. I have groundskeeper to take care of most of my estate, but that garden is my own specialty. I don't mean to be what they call a 'sexist' these days, but it's my firm belief that women are closer to nature and a garden always benefits from a woman's touch. If I caught you in a 'real' hunt, I'd ask you to spend a few afternoons working in my garden."

"That is SO sweet!" Rachel exclaimed. "I'll make you an offer. You've been so much help to me that I want to retroactively consider this a 'real' hunt. I will be happy to spend some Saturdays in your garden. Especially if you will do me a favor."

"And what would that be?"

"Well, some of my, uh, plans will require a lot of practice. If I could use the grounds of your estate to build up some accuracy and speed, I'd consider it more than fair exchange."

"My dear, you have a deal." Stone offered his hand and Rachel accepted. "Now, looking at the time, I would say you should start dismantling what you've put together here. Though you will have to recreate this without assistance, I see no reason why I shouldn't help you restore things to their former state. All in the interest of getting us back to the lounge for a proper dinner, you understand."

"You've got a deal." This time Rachel offered her hand and Stone accepted. Getting up, Rachel added with a bit of flirtatiousness, "Incidentally, the one thing you've said that I don't believe entirely is that business about fifteen or twenty years ago. I don't believe it's been nearly that long. I noticed you watching me."

"Perhaps you're right, my dear. Perhaps you're right."