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in the paper and try to sell it. It was worth a few bucks. There were people on the lookout for things like this. He should have put an ad on Dr. Fox’s bulletin board in the office lobby. He’d just give the doctor’s office a call and ask them to do it. He was sure they would.
    There was certainly no chance, no chance in the immediate future, that he would get another dog, even though the doctor at the emergency room in the hospital had made that suggestion.
    “Best way to overcome what could be a lifetime paranoia,” he said. “Get him a puppy and let him start anew.”
    “Not a chance,” Sid said. Maybe he’d been too quick to make up his mind.
    Then he thought about the old lady and the dog with the quills in its mouth. Too much trouble, he thought. They’re not worth it. I’d rather take my chance with the burglars.
    He got out of the car, but before he reached the house, Clara was at the door. She looked white with fear.
    “Oh Sid,” she said, her voice thin and raspy, like someone talking in her sleep. “Thank God you’re home.”
    “What is it? What’s wrong? Bobby went to school, didn’t he?”
    “Yes.”
    “So? What is it?”
    “It’s King,” she said.
    “King?”
    “I heard him.”
    “He’s dead, Clara,” Sid said.
    But Clara went on as though he weren’t even there. “So I came to the door and looked out and he was there.” She turned slowly. “In the doghouse, just like always.”

3
    “I’ VE TRACKED ALL sorts of animals in my life,” Qwen said, “but I never seen nothin’ like this.”
    Kevin Longfellow looked at the trapper. He didn’t like the idea of going into town to find one of the locals to help in this search, but Dr. Bronstein was right when he said, “We’re not trappers and hunters. We’re scientists. We’re not going to know the first thing about what to do out there. It’s been nearly three days and those woods are deep.” Kevin was a little wary of Mike Qwen, but everyone they talked to said he was the best. They said he knew the land so well he could read it better than one of those air traffic controllers could read radar. He knew just where every property line began and ended; he knew where the forest had thinned and thickened. He was a remnant of a bygone age, someone who lived off the land, a professional trapper and hunter.
    As such, he was suspicious of technology; he distrusted a modern age that substituted so many devices and machines for human effort. He wasn’t eager to work for them, but, if he succeeded, they offered half again as much money as he could make in a year. It didn’t seem like much to do, so he relented and agreed to lead a search party.
    “What the hell are you people doin’ up there any-way?”he asked when Kevin drove him up to the institute to start the search.
    “It’s medical research. We’re trying to find better ways to treat people who are sick.”
    “Why so secretive?”
    “Everyone’s out to steal everyone else’s research. It’s part of the game. There’s more industrial and research espionage going on than espionage between countries.”
    “There was a big demonstration in New York City against experiments with animals,” Qwen said. “I seen it on the television at Old Mill Tavern.”
    “Yeah, I know,” Kevin said, “but if we didn’t use animals, a lot of sick people would be a lot sicker today.”
    “I don’t care one way or the other about it,” Qwen said. “As long as you don’t disturb what’s goin’ on out there,” he added, indicating the forest. Kevin grunted. He was thirty and he didn’t think Qwen was all that much older, even though he had a seasoned look about him. They were about the same height—five eleven or so—and Kevin imagined they were about the same weight, too, although Qwen’s weight was firmer and better arranged. His skin was almond-colored and his sandpaper beard made him look as hard as a tree.
    Kevin wore an army fatigue jacket and a pair of khaki pants