en he rightly suspected that the question was the sort a war game enthusiastmight know how to answer. Right, but these men . Gerd yelped as a couple of sharp stings bit into his shoulder. He pointed at aspot on the wall, where the only answer to his friend's worries was hanging.
No point in delaying a fight if therewas going to be one. He knew Jan's discardedshotgun would have more shells in it, even if they were likely birdshot. Get thejacking gear going as soon as possible. Simpson's lips twitched in what, in another man, mighthave been called a ghost of a smile, but there was very little humor in his eyes.
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