large/118/police_op_0810_librivox_64kb_mp3/policeoperation_03_piper_64kb_13
large/118/police_op_0810_librivox_64kb_mp3/policeoperation_03_piper_64kb
English
118
"Good afternoon, Mr. Lee. I thought that was your jeep I saw, down the road a little." The sergeant turned to the others. "Mr. Richard Lee; staying at the old Kinchwalter place, the other side of Rutter's Fort. This is Mr. Parker, the district game protector. And Private Zinkowski." GOOD AFTERNOON MISTER LEE I THOUGHT THAT WAS YOUR JIP I SAW DOWN THE ROAD A LITTLE THE SERGEANT TURNED TO THE OTHERS MISTER RICHARD LEE STAYING AT THE OLD KINCH WATER PLACE THE OTHER SIDE OF RUDDER'S FORT THIS IS MISTER PARKER THE DISTRICT GAME PROTECTOR AND PRIVATE ZINKOWSKI
-grown track through the woods. Finally, they stopped, and the private backed off the road. The three men got out; Parker with his Winchester, the sergeant checking the drum of a Thompson, and the private pumping a buckshot shell into the chamber of a riot gun. For half an hour, they followed the brush-grown trail beside the little stream; once, they passed a dark gray commercial-model jeep, backed to one side. Then they came to the head of the gap. A man, wearing a tweed coat, tan field boots, and khaki breeches, was sitting on a log, smoking a pipe; he had a bolt-action rifle across his knees, and a pair of binoculars hung from his neck. He seemed about thirty years old, and any bobby-soxer's idol of the screen would have envied him the handsome regularity of his strangely immobile features. As Parker and the two State policemen approached, he rose, slinging his rifle, and greeted them. "Sergeant Haines, isn't it?" he asked pleasantly. "Are you gentlemen out hunting the critter, too? IRT ROAD WHICH DETERIORATED STEADILY INTO A GRASS GROWN TRACK THROUGH THE WOODS FINALLY THEY STOPPED IN THE PRIVATE BACKED OFF THE ROAD THE THREE MEN GOT OUT PARKER WITH HIS WINCHESTER THE SERANT CHECKING THE DRUM OF A THOMPSON AND THE PRIVATE PUMPING OF BOOKSELL SHOT INTO THE CHAMBER OF A RIOT GUN FOR HALF AN HOUR THEY FOLLOWED THE BRUSH GOWN TRAIL BESIDE THE LITTLE STREAM ONCE THEY PASSED A DARK GREY COMMERCIAL MODEL JEEP BACK TO ONE SIDE THEN THEY CAME TO THE HEAD OF THE GAP A MAN WEARING A TWEED COAT TAN FIELD BOOTS AND KHAKI BREECHES WAS SITTING ON A LOG SMOKING A PIPE HE HAD A BULL ACTION RIFLE ACROSS HIS KNEES AND A PAIR OF BINOCULARS HUNG FROM HIS NECK HE SEEMED ABOUT THIRTY YEARS OLD AND ANY BOBBYSACKS OR CIRDLE OF THE SCREEN WOULD HAVE ENVIED HIM THE HANDSOME REGULARITY OF STRANGELY MOBILE FEATURES AS PARKER AND THE TWO STATE POLICEMEN APPROACHED HE ROSE SLINGING HIS RIFLE AND GREETING THEM SERGEANT HAYNES IS IT HE ASKED PRESENTLY ARE YOU GENTLEMEN OUT HUNTING THE CRITTER TOO
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