Stoneskin's Revenge Read Online Free PDF Page A

gray-green eyes slide dubiously over his unlikely figure—and linger on the bow. There was a minute’s mumbled pause, during which the dark kid engaged in some form of heated consultation with his companion, and then began peddling straight toward Calvin, who by this time was once more moving on.
    “Hey, mister!” the boy called. “Wait up a minute! Mind if I take a look at that bow?”
    Calvin grimaced, but stood his ground, then shrugged reluctant affirmation. After all, had he been in their BKs he’d have acted exactly the same.
    “All right!” the kid cried, braking to a squeaky halt. “I used to hunt some, before my last dad d—”
    “I’m Michael Chadwick,” the other boy inserted, coasting up no-hands. “Ole Don Larry here don’t have a lot in the way of manners.”
    “Calvin—Calvin McIntosh.”
    “Like in the next county over?” Michael wondered.
    “I’m Don Scott,” the shorter boy volunteered in turn, shoving a tanned hand in front of the one his friend was now extending. “And I do so have manners, I just get real into stuff sometimes, and it kinda gets the best of me.”
    “I know somebody like that,” Calvin laughed, shaking hands in turn. “Gets him into a lot of trouble. Me too, sometimes.”
    But now that introductions were over, Don could not take his eyes off the bow.
    With a surreptitious wink at Michael, Calvin unslung the weapon from his back and handed it to the smaller boy.
    “Oh, wow,” Don whispered reverently as he ran his fingers along the smooth, unlacquered surface.
    “ Double wow,” Michael echoed, having finally caught his friend’s enthusiasm. “Hey, look at all these different kinds of wood, and stuff. Springy at the tips, I bet—and real stiff-like here at the grip where these lightnin’ bolt-things are.”
    “Looks handmade,” Don noted. “Where’d you get it, anyway?”
    “A friend made it,” Calvin told him truthfully, not adding that the friend lived in another World. “And another friend lent it to me. It’s the only one of its kind anywhere around, now,” he added with a touch of wistfulness.
    “What’s it made out of?” Don asked. “Never seen anything like these green bits.”
    “Don’t know most of ’em,” Calvin replied. “Don’t think we’ve got trees like that ’round here.”
    Don bent the bow appraisingly. “Poundage?”
    “No idea, but I’d guess maybe sixty.”
    “Not bad ,” Don whispered. “More’n I could draw easy.”
    “More’n you could draw period !” Michael inserted, with a punch to his buddy’s ribs, which Don countered without much effort.
    “Could too!”
    “It’s all in how you use your body,” Calvin explained. “I’ve had to practice a lot. But I’ve also had a good teacher.”
    “So what’re you doin’ here?” Michael ventured. “I mean you’re obviously not from around here, and I hate to be nosy and all, but…well, it’s not exactly huntin’ season, or anything.”
    “Michael! “ Don hissed.
    “No problem.” Calvin grinned. “I’m just goin’ campin’ for a few days and that”—he inclined his head toward the bow—“is mostly for protection.”
    “We’re goin’ campin’, too,” Michael volunteered. “Tomorrow. That’s what we’re here for. This is the only place around that sells our kind of hotdogs.”
    “Local brand,” Don appended. “They don’t let just anybody stock ’em.” He paused, then: “Hey, you wanta come with us? Bet you could teach us some stuff.”
    Calvin scratched his nose thoughtfully. He would like some company, as a matter of fact—but not right now; maybe in a day or so when he got a few things straight. Eventually he shook his head. “Sorry, guys, but I kinda need to do this solo. But I’d welcome suggestions on a good spot to set up for a while. Need somewhere there’s game enough to hunt without bein’ caught, if you know what I mean. Fresh water, no trouble with trespassin’ or anything.”
    “Know just the place,” Don