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catch them very often?”
    â€œNot really. They seem to know where we’re at and what we’re doing. The saddest thing is to find the corpse of a bear that’s had just the paws and head chopped off.”
    I was astonished. “Why’s that?” I asked.
    â€œSome of the locals think there are magic powers to those parts of the bear. Others sell them illegally to the Japanese, who will pay huge dollars for them. They believe that when these parts are dried and ground up into powder, it makes a powerful aphrodisiac.”
    â€œReally?” asked John’s dad as he slipped into the booth beside his son and began sipping a milkshake he had brought with him. “Maybe I oughta start sellin’ that stuff. I hear it’s purty profitable.”
    â€œThen I’d have to arrest you for sure, Pop. Probably have to send you off to federal prison and make Mom a widow who has to run this entire operation by herself. Doesn’t sound very wise to me.”
    Doc John smiled as he looked at me and then Kate. “Walt, just raise your children right, and they’ll take care of you in your old age. That’s what I always say.”
    â€œOld age!” exclaimed John Jr. “What makes you think you’re gonna make it to old age, Pop? What are you doing drinking a milkshake this early in the morning? You know it’s not good for your cholesterol.”
    â€œSon, don’t you go worryin’ about my cholesterol. It’s just fine. Now tell me about what happened last night.”
    Ranger Mattox frowned and then continued. “Well, you remember me telling you about Satan, don’t you?”
    Doc John thought for a moment and then scowled as he remembered. “You talkin’ about the gang that uses that name?”
    â€œWell, we’re not sure if it’s a single person or a small gang — but my guess is the latter. Anyway, they’ve been driving me crazy. You see, these kids apparently love wild hog meat better than almost anything — other than beating us rangers. And last night they beat us twice.”
    â€œHow so?” asked Doc John.
    â€œWell, in the case of the first hog, we set up a baited cage, and before dark set in, a big ole hog was trapped. Then we sat up all night, figuring they’d show up to check out our trap. But, as usual, we were at the right place at the wrong time. They took one of the wild hogs right out of another live trap we had set up a few miles away. How they know where we’ve set up the traps and where we’re staking them out, I’ll never know.”
    â€œI don’t understand,” I remarked. “Why do you trap wild hogs?”
    John Jr. took a sip of his coffee and then explained, “You see, Walt, these wild hogs aren’t native to this area of the country — or even the United States. They were brought in back in the late 1800s and early 1900s for sport hunting. Many of the hogs are Russian wild boar. They’re known for their huge size, tusks, and their love of fighting man or dog or any other perceived enemy or danger. I’ve seen one old, nearly blind boar spend five minutes goring a tree that moved wrong in the wind. That’s why they make for great hunting — with that extra element of danger.”
    Doc John jumped in with more information. “Walt, you oughta see the damage them hogs can do. Five or six of ’em can dig up an acre of land in one night — worse than any tractor.”
    John Jr. grinned as he looked down at his pop’s belly and then back at me. “Kind of like Pop at the dinner table. They don’t leave anything behind.”
    â€œYou be careful!” Doc John warned, feigning irritation. “Don’t you know the Good Book says you’re to honor your father and your mother?”
    John Jr. smiled and continued. “Those hogs will take out every plant in their way, including rare flowers. They have no natural