Читать книгу Small Town Monsters - Craig Nybo - Страница 36

Craig Nybo

8

seen droppings so I knew elk was all over those parts. I figured If I waited, they’d come to me.

“I sat there for a couple of hours and saw nothing. Just as I was about to get up and find me a new spot, there was a rustle in the trees about thirty yards back. I wrangled my rifle off my shoulder and crouched behind a patch of underbrush. I shimmied sideways so’s I could see through the forest, but the trees was thick and I didn’t think I could get a clear shot even if an elk had ventured within twenty feet of me.

“There I was, crouchin’ like the Viet Cong, not even a breath. Then I seen him. He was nothing less than nine foot tall and covered with mats of filthy bark-colored shag. He was camouflaged, but I couldn’t miss him. My eyes were as big as apples and I can’t remember much except hopin’ that big thing in the trees wouldn’t smell me. I was upwind and I count myself lucky for that.”

“A bear,” Kurt said.

“Sasquatch, damn it.”

“Cripes,” Buck said and rolled his eyes.

“You don’t know nothin’; you wasn’t there,” Larry scolded Buck.

“Did you mention the part about you was too high on Jack to see straight?” Buck said.

“I wasn’t drunk,” Larry protested.

“You’re always drunk when we go hunting. It’s amazing we let you carry that old 30-ought-6 and bullets to boot.”

“What happened?” Kurt asked, trying not to smile.

“I waited—must have been twenty minutes or better. I took aim three times, but I couldn’t get a clear shot through the brambles. He was smart. I think he might have know’d I was there. After waiting a spell, he finally just sauntered off and I never seen him again after that.”

“That’s some story,” Kurt said.

“Yea, some story; now are we going to bowl or keep yakin’?” Arthur shot his words over his shoulder from the scoring desk.

Kurt chuckled as he walked to the line. He shot with his