After all, Stottman had had a partner, and until I learned what Pete-the-Indian was up to, I couldn’t afford to relax. The bump in my side came again. I looked and saw the black pup with the collar still in his mouth. He was sitting beside me, trying to deliver it stylishly to hand as he’d been taught, instead of just dropping it at my feet. His expression said what the hell, I’d sent him for this lousy strap, wasn’t I ever going to take it from him? I drew a long breath, took the collar, and buckled it around his neck. It was very quiet in the cabin after the deafening report of the .357 Magnum. At least I thought it was quiet, but I realized that if there were any significant noises, hostile or otherwise, I probably couldn’t hear them, the way my ears were ringing. It’s a bad enough gun to fire outdoors; indoors it’s just too damn loud. I patted the pup and looked him over for damage. “Everything okay, Prince Hannibal?” I asked. He grinned at me and swung his big tail back and forth cheerfully by way of answer.
What do You think about Matt Helm--The Interlopers?
