“I see.” Chuck considered this a moment. Masterson was certainly going at this hunting business with all he had. He began to wonder if the force field accident had really been an accident. For a man who’d planned to take only pictures, Masterson had certainly come prepared with a junior armory. He shrugged this aside and turned his head as he heard the shuffle of feet behind him.
Denise walked quickly to the fire, hugging herself against the morning chill.
“Good morning,” Chuck said.
“Good morning,” she answered. She held her hands out to the fire and said, “Are Jurassic times really colder or do they just seem that way?”
“As a matter of fact,” Chuck said, “they’re much warmer. The dampness will go as soon as the sun has had a chance to work a little. All these plants, you know.”
Denise shuddered. “I wish the sun would stop loafing, then,” she said.
“How about some bacon and eggs?” Pete asked. “And a steaming mug of coffee? That ought to take the chill off.”
“My uncle doesn’t like me to drink coffee,” Denise said. She looked around the camp and asked, “Say, where is everybody?”
“Exploring,” Chuck said.
“So early?” She shook her blonde head and opened her eyes in wonder. “You’d think my uncle would want to stay as far away from those brutes as possible. Sometimes I don’t understand him at all.” She paused and turned to Chuck. “Like shooting at those-stegosaurs, were they? You’d think he’d have more sense than that.”
“Your uncle thinks he’s on an African safari,” Chuck said, smiling.
Denise smiled back, a warm smile that lit her entire face. “Yes, isn’t it silly? A grown man playing Tarzan.”
“You’d better not let
Denise shrugged. “I think I’ll have a little coffee after all,” she said.
Pete served up the bacon and eggs, poured the steaming coffee into big, white mugs. They ate hungrily, sipping at the coffee, not stopping to talk. Pete watched them with obvious enjoyment, a cook’s pride sprawled all over his face.
“This is delicious, Pete,” Denise said.
“Why, thank you, Miss.” Pete beamed at her.
“Excellent,” Chuck chimed in.
Pete’s smile grew larger and he looked as if he were ready to burst into song again. He began cleaning his pots, the smile still on his face.
Chuck got to his feet and stretched. The meal had made him feel full and lazy. He glanced over at the truck in time to see Gardel swing a leg over the tailgate and drop down to the ground. Quickly, like a black snake slithering across the ground, he came up to the fire.
“That coffee I smell?” he asked.
Pete looked up. “Like a cup, Brock?”
“I could use one.”
Pete took the big pot from the fire and poured a cup for Gardel. He handed it to him and asked, “Did you kill any dinosaurs for supper?” A merry twinkle sparkled in his eyes as he studied Gardel’s face.
“Things were pretty quiet,” Gardel said soberly, missing Pete’s wit completely. He sipped at the coffee, his thin lips pulling at the rim of the cup.
“Where are we going from here?” Pete asked.
Gardel took the cup from his lips. “Hunting,” he said simply.
“For what?”
Gardel hesitated a moment. “Animals. What else is there to hunt?”
“We’d be smarter hunting for a nice warm cave or something,” Denise said. “Doesn’t my uncle realize these animals are dangerous?”
Gardel pulled his black brows together. “That’s what makes hunting interesting,” he said. “Nobody hunts household pets, Denise.”
“According to law,” Chuck put in, “nobody hunts dinosaurs, either.”
Gardel smiled a thin smile. “You sound like your brother, son.”
“My brother knows this period well,” Chuck said. “He explained why real hunting wasn’t allowed and…”
Gardel chuckled a little. “Did he really expect us to believe that knocking off a few dinosaurs is going to affect the future history of mankind?”
“No, not if that were the extent of it. But how many of a species can you kill before you exterminate the entire species?”
“I wouldn’t worry about that,” Gardel said. “We don’t intend to knock off more than our quota.” He thought that was funny and began laughing, only to stop abruptly when he saw he was laughing alone. “You know,” he explained, “like in hunting season.”
“Let’s hope we don’t wind up being the
“They didn’t touch us, did they?” Gardel asked smugly.
Pete shrugged. “Maybe they weren’t very hungry.”
Gardel laughed halfheartedly, then glanced at his watch. “I wonder what’s keeping Mr. Masterson.”
It was almost as if he’d spoken the cue for a stage entrance. The words had barely left his mouth when a thrashing in the bushes announced the return of the explorers. Masterson was the first to step onto the flat shale, stamping the mud from his shining boots.
“Well,” he boomed, “I see everyone’s up and around. Have a good night, Denise?”
“All right, I suppose,” Denise said.