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everything.
    “You’re not goin’ snipe hunt’n’ lookin’ like that, are you?” Jimbo asked, looking me over critically.
    I glanced quickly down at my clothes to make sure I hadn’t forgotten to zip my pants, or anything else really embarrassing. All my clothes were there and decent, although I would never make anyone’s Best Dressed list. I had been sorely tempted to wear a soft blue angora sweater that matched my eyes, but I’d decided it would be a little out of place in the woods among the snipes. I had reluctantly exchanged it for a serviceable flannel shirt and an old pair of jeans, reminding myself that I had no reason to want to dress up for Jimbo anyway.
    “What’s wrong with the way I look?” I asked him.
    “You need a hat.” He whipped off his yellow CAT hat and plunked it down on my head. “You can’t go snipe hunt’n’ without a hat.”
    While we waited for Richie, Jimbo briefly outlined my role in the snipe hunt.
    “Jimbo, Richie will be okay out there in the woods, won’t he?” I asked when he had finished.
    He nodded reassuringly. “He’ll be fine. He doesn’t suspect anything?”
    “Innocent as a lamb,” I assured him.
    At that moment the innocent lamb came bounding down the stairs, and we followed Jimbo out the door to his ancient pickup truck. As I climbed into the cab, I was relieved to find that the truck’s interior was in better shape than its dilapidated exterior had led me to expect. Jimbo climbed into the driver’s seat and soon we were on our way, leaving the lights of town behind us.
    At last Jimbo parked the truck in a wooded area somewhere on the outskirts of town. He reached behind the seat and dug out three flashlights and a large burlap bag, which he handed to Richie. Soon we were on our way. We tramped through the woods, each armed with a flashlight, while Richie carried the sack slung over his shoulder. Jimbo had assured me that he wouldn’t take Richie very far into the woods, but it seemed to me that we walked forever. At last he announced that we had come far enough. He took the bag from Richie and made a big show of demonstrating the proper technique for snipe-catching.
    “You just hold the bag open like this, see, and when you see a snipe comin’, you scoop it up in the bag and close the top,” he explained.
    “How will I recognize them?” Richie asked, hanging on every word. “What do they look like?”
    “They’re long-legged brown birds that run along the ground. They’re pretty fast, but not too bright. As long as you hold the bag open, they ought to run right into it. Now, if you think you’ve got it, me and Tracy’ll go and scare up some snipes for you.”
    “Got it. I’ve got one question, though,” Richie added as we turned to walk away.
    “What’s that?”
    “What are we going to do with the snipes after we catch them?”
    As usual, Jimbo was never at a loss for an answer. “Depends on how many we catch,” he said with a shrug, and turned and made his way deeper into the woods.
    Richie might have been suspicious if Jimbo and I had gone back together, so we had agreed to take separate paths. I was to turn and go straight back to the truck the way we had come, while Jimbo would take a different direction, then loop back and meet me there. Jimbo had warned me to look for landmarks as we entered the woods, and as I retraced my steps, I located them one by one: a crooked tree here, an aluminum can lying on the ground there. This snipe-hunting business was a piece of cake.
    Suddenly, my foot struck something hard and I pitched forward, waving my arms wildly in an effort to regain my balance. I lost my grip on the flashlight, and as I hit the ground the beam of light was snuffed out, leaving me alone and lost in the dark.
     
Chapter Nine
     
    The darkness seemed to close in around me, and it took every ounce of self-control I possessed to keep from screaming. I sat up gingerly, wincing at the stab of pain that shot through my right