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island he saw a small animal walking along the shoreline. It was the size of a small raccoon but wasn’t acting like one. He took out his binoculars for a closer look and saw that it was a small dog. A puppy. He looked around for any human companions and didn’t see any.
    Dogs were not allowed in the refuge under any circumstances. A single dog could destroy dozens of shorebird nests looking for a single meal and the birds had a tough enough time with the raccoons and the snakes. Jimmy Barnwell told him the refuge was a popular spot to drop off unwanted cats and dogs.
    The puppy was barking at the water and Hall was close enough to see that it looked like a black lab. He switched off the outboard engine and tilted it out of the water, letting the momentum carry the boat until it nudged the bottom and stopped several yards from the shore.
    Hall whistled and called for the dog to come to him. The pup ignored him and kept barking, splashing now in the shallow water. Hall walked to the front of his boat and looked at the water. The sandy bottom looked firm enough so he slipped off his shoes and rolled up his pants legs. The water was cool and the sand slipped between his toes. He took two steps and sank to his knees in mud that was hidden beneath the sand.
    The mud created a powerful suction and each step he took was an effort. After about fifteen steps he reached the firmer sand of the beach and walked toward the dog. To his surprise the puppy ran to him and bit him playfully on his thumb when he reached to pet it. Hall picked it up and realized too late that the black dog was covered with the same ooze he had just walked through, and now his khaki shirt was covered with odiferous muck from the marsh.
    When he began to walk back to his boat the puppy started barking again and tried to jump out of his arms. Hall looked back over his shoulder and thought a log he had seen at the edge of the water was now moving toward him. The he realized it was a large alligator following him and it was making much better progress through the mud. He looked at the distance between him and the gator and how much farther it was to the boat and knew it was going to be close.
    By the time he was five feet from the boat the water was deep enough that the alligator was swimming, and was swimming much faster than Hall could walk. He threw the puppy into the boat and grabbed for the boat railing as the water exploded behind him. He felt the rough skin of the gator against his leg as he pulled himself onto the bow and plunged headfirst onto the deck.
    On shaky legs he stood and peered into the water which was cloudy from the silt and sediment that had been stirred up. The alligator was nowhere to be seen. The puppy was standing quietly next to him and there was blood mixed with the mud that was covering the bottom of the boat.
    After confirming he still had two feet and ten toes, Hall sat down and checked the bottom of his feet. A knife—sharp oyster shell was stuck in the instep of his left foot. There was a gallon jug of fresh water under the console and he used it to clean his wound and hoped that he wouldn’t have to get any stitches. He wondered if the alligator knew it was one of the endangered species he was sworn to protect.
    The puppy bounded out of the boat without any help when they reached the dock at the cottage. It scampered ahead of him and he limped behind, leaving alternate bloody and muddy footprints on the weathered wood. After hosing off his feet he turned the water on the puppy and sprayed all the mud off of him. When he reached down to pet him the pup nipped at his hand again.
    “I think I’ll call you Belker,” he said.

Chapter Eight
    For Hall McCormick the day started at four-thirty in the morning when Belker whined to go outside. Last night’s thunderstorm had left everything smelling fresh and new, and while the dog took care of urgent business, Hall dressed and planned his day. He wanted to call Jimmy and ask him about