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ore 。 。 。
He struggled out of the chair and lumbered into the hall； listening for a moment。 There was no sound from upstairs。 He did not want Edith to hear him assembling the Purdey。 She might jump to the wrong conclusion。
He returned to the lounge with the gun…case and that last box of cartridges。 There was a clinking of steel as he fumbled； assembling stock and barrels； snapping the fore…end loudly to secure the weapon。 The well…oiled breech opened noiselessly； he dropped a cartridge into each chamber； and closed it。 Then he flopped back into the chair； breathing heavily。 The dog； ears pricked in anticipation of an outing； nuzzled against him。 Roughly he pushed it away。 With a whimper of disappointment； it retired to its earlier resting place behind the settee。
Gun across his knees； McLellan lit another cigar； and settled back to await the ing of daylight。
His cigar smouldered for a while； then went out。 His eyes closed； and he fell into a fitful doze。 Somewhere； far away； he heard the rumble of heavy wheels。 Probably more waste being brought in for reprocessing 。。。
It was full daylight when he awoke； stirring slowly at first； then struggling to his feet as everything came flooding back to him。 A moment of panic as he stumbled towards the bow windows overlooking his large garden。 Perhaps he was too late。 He opened one of the windows quietly。 His head ached abominably； but he ignored it。 Only one thing mattered…so long as the creatures had not already e and gone。
This damned mist。 He cursed as he saw it swirl around these upper reaches of the valley； resting the gun on the sill whilst he put on his spectacles to see more clearly。 He peered intently。 A faint movement； a breath of sudden mountain breeze which temporarily cleared away a patch of the grey vapour。 He pushed the window even wider； and picked up the shotgun。
The squirrels were there again； as he knew they would be。 They hadn't missed a morning in his garden for a month now。 Horrible； rat…like grey creatures； they scuttled through the small orchard； ravaging the unpicked fruit。
He stood and watched from behind the open window； revulsion building up inside him。 His hands； clasping the loaded twelve…bore； were clammy。 He glanced at his watch： 7。a。m。 The yellow Labrador by his side growled softly。 The dog knew they were out there； too。 It looked at the door； and whined softly。
'Not today； old son；' McLellan muttered grimly。
Naturally； the Labrador didn't understand。 It wasn't worth the risk of radioactive contact； anyway。 McLellan turned his attention to the squirrels again。 Four of them were in the nearest tree。 The two old ones and a couple of youngsters。 Somewhere there were two more。 He eased the safety…catch forward on the gun。 He should have shot them weeks ago。 All too easy。
He raised the gun to his shoulder。 He had already gone over in his mind last night how he was going to do it。 The old ones first。 They wouldn't know what had hit them。 Then a rapid reload。 The young ones would be too surprised to run。 He took a bead on the adult male first。 She was looking towards the house； beady eyes glinting evilly； but didn't appear to see McLellan。 The creature was munching ravenously…his fruit。 His hand shook； but he steadied his aim； and squeezed the trigger gently。
The report was deafening in the confined space of the room。 The dog jumped up and ran to the door； whining and scratching at it。 McLellan moved the twin barrels a foot to the left； and followed the course of the female as she ran out on to a thick branch。 The other two followed in her wake。 She had sounded the retreat。
McLellan winced under the recoil of the second explosion； but he saw the squirrel drop instantly； plummeting earthwards to disappear into the long grass beneath。 Her offspring stopped； looking about them； fear evident in their tiny eyes。 Orphans at his mercy。
He opened the breech of the shotgun； and the two spent cases bounced across the room。 He grabbed two more from the open carton on the windowsill； fumbling them into the chambers； fearful that his next two victims would suddenly spring from sight and be lost。 But they still crouched there on the branch。
He took aim again…a sense of elation surging through him。 It had been easy； and he had enjoyed it。 This time two shots rang out in quick succession as he transferred the barrels to the two younger squirrels； squeezing the rear trigger almost before the dead creature in the lead had hit the ground。
Four shots； four kills。 As he opened the door； he felt something squeeze past his legs…then Simon； the Labrador； was dashing into the garden； nose to the ground in search of a scent。
'e back！' he yelled。 'Heel； you bloody idiot！'
It was no good。 The dog had always run in…to…shot； and this occasion was going to be no exception。 Whatever else he lacked； Simon certainly made up for it with his nose。 Even as McLellan rounded the corner of the house he saw the Labrador emerging from the long grass with a squirrel in his mouth。
Then McLellan stared in horror。 It wasn't dead！ It was kicking furiously in the dog's jaws； head darting upwards； trying to reach the throat。 It was the female； and she was squeaking with rage； determined to inflict her revenge upon those who had killed her family。
Suddenly； the dog dropped her and bent to pick her up again； intent on securing a grip that would crush the life from her。 She was too swift for him。 A wriggle and a leap； and she was hanging on to his lower lip。 The still morning air was disturbed by a canine yelp of pain。 McLellan stood transfixed as he watched this duel to the death。
Simon flung his head upwards； which dislodged the squirrel and sent her spinning a yard in to the air； catching her on the way down； this time he made no mistake。 Her tiny bones crunched in his jaws； and then he dropped her； a lifeless； bloody； grey bundle in the grass。 Blood dripped from the dog's lower lip； but he turned and went in search of the others。
Minutes later； four dead squirrels lay on the path at McLellan's feet。 Simon wagged his tail； and looked up。 His lip had almost stopped bleeding now。 McLellan glanced at the corpses； and thought again about radioactivity。 Well； they looked healthy enough； but he could not take any chances。 Suddenly； he vomited； forgetting the dog for a moment。
Then it happened。 It was all so sudden that McLellan had no time to think。 Out of the corner of his eye he saw Simon's lips drawn back in a vicious snarl； his eyes rolling； and he was bounding towards his master； snarling ferociously。
It was the sight of the open mouth which panicked McLellan into instant action。 The dog's jaws were foaming！ Those squirrels…he had been right about them after all。 And if Simon bit him 。 。 。 McLellan had automatically reloaded after the last two shots。 He threw the gun to his shoulder； fumbled； and pulled both triggers simultaneously。 His eyes were tightly shut as the recoil threw him backwards。 He sprawled headlong； fearful lest those awful frothing jaws should fasten in his throat； aghast at the possible consequences。 He lay there； listening； afraid to look。 Apart from the cooing of woodpigeons in some distant trees there was silence。 Then he went back inside the house。 The local telephone exchange appeared to be functioning normally as he put through a call to the Radiological Protection Board。
A van arrived within ten minutes。 Its colour； yellow； reminded McLellan of the larger ones used to clear up the dead pigeons in the Square。 The two men also wore protective clothing。
'Where are they； mate？'
McLellan stared at a pair of eyes behind the mask。 Instinctively he found himself backing away； pointing towards the rear garden with a trembling hand。 The voice reminded him of a transistor radio which was not properly tuned to the right station。 Everything about them； their puppet…like movements； total impartiality； suggested robots。
He forced himself to follow them at a distance； holding his throat。
They went to the squirrels first； picking them up one by one。 A cursory examination； aided by some kind of matchbox…sized instrument placed against the rough fur。 All four were cast to one side； rolling over and lying inert on the gravel path。
Their instrument had not detected any radioactivity。 They were satisfied。 All just routine。 Only the dead dog remained unexamined。 'Well； I suppose we'd better have a look at him。'
Together the two visored men pulled this dead labrador on to the path。 Both knelt down as they applied the small detector again。 One shook his head slowly。
His panion had prised open the dog's jaws with gloved hands。
'Look at this。' A nod of a head indicated that McLellan should step closer。 He approached hesitantly to within a yard of them。
The dead dog's mouth was still held wide。 McLellan peered forward； adjusted his spectacles。 Bloodied gums。 Something else； too。 A swelling the size of a songbird's egg at the back of the throat。 He looked for