The Grasshopper Trap by Patrick F. McManus Page A

the sport feel that way about it. Listen, I can teach you all about hunting. One weekend out with me, and you’ll come back loving it.”
    â€œNo,” Sidney snarled.
    â€œIf nothing else, you’ll enjoy getting out in the crisp mountain air. It will invigorate you.”
    â€œNo! No! NO !”
    â€œSid, I just know you’ll enjoy the camaraderie of the hunting camp, the thrill of the pursuit, the …”
    â€œNo, I tell you, no! Go home !”
    â€œ … the free meat and …”
    â€œFree meat?”
    â€œSure. Just think of packing away all those free venison steaks and chops and roasts in the freezer.”
    â€œFree meat. Venison’s good, too. I tasted it once. Yeah, I wouldn’t mind getting a bunch of free meat. Then, too, as you say, there’s the hunting-camp camaraderie, the crisp mountain air, and the thrill of pursuit. But I’m willing to put up with all that stuff if I can get some free meat.”
    I would have patted him on the shoulder, but I didn’t want to get my hands all dirty with leaf mold. “I can see right now you have the makings of a true sportsman,” I told him.
    â€œSo how do I get this free deer?” Sidney asked.
    â€œWell, you just go out with me and get it. Of course,
there are a few odds and ends you’ll need to pick up down at Duffy’s Sporting Goods.”
    â€œLike what?”
    â€œOh, let’s see. You’ll need a rifle, of course. Outfitted with scope and sling. A couple boxes of shells. Seems to me there’s something else. A knife! You’ll need a good hunting knife. And a whetstone. I nearly forgot the whetstone. That should be about it. You have a good pair of insulated boots, don’t you? No? Oh, wool pants, you’ll need wool pants and some good wool socks and a wool shirt and a down parka and some thermal underwear and an orange hunting vest and a red cap. Heck, that should do it. Good, you’re making a list. Did I say gloves? Get some gloves. Oh, binoculars! And a first-aid kit. And a survival kit, with a daypack to carry it in. Rope, you’ll need a length of rope for dragging your free deer out of the mountains with. We could use my tent, of course, but it has a rip in the roof on the guest’s side. You might want to buy a tent. A subzero sleeping bag, did I mention that? You’ll probably want an insulated sleeping pad, too. Down booties are awfully nice to slip into when you take off your hunting boots, but they’re optional. Then there’s the grub, and that’s it. Did I mention the hunting license and deer tag?”
    â€œHmmmm,” Sidney said, studying his list. “Just how big are these free deer, anyway?”
    â€œBig!” I said. “Real big!”
    â€œGeez,” he said, “I don’t know how I can afford to buy all the stuff on this list.”
    â€œTake some advice from an old experienced hunter—mortgage the house.”
    After Sidney purchased his outfit, I took him out to the gun-club range and we sighted in his rifle. He grouped his
last five shots right in the center of the bull’s-eye. Then I showed him my technique of scattering shots randomly around the target because, as I explained, you never know which way the deer might jump just as you pull the trigger.
    â€œHow long before I learn to do that?” Sidney asked.
    â€œYears,” I said. “It’s not something you master overnight.”
    The day before the hunt, Retch Sweeney called up and said he would be able to go hunting after all.
    â€œHow come he’s going?” Sidney snapped when I told him the news. They are not exactly bosom buddies.
    â€œHe’s between jobs,” I said.
    â€œI didn’t know he ever worked,” Sidney growled. “When did he get laid off?”
    â€œNineteen fifty-seven.”
    I explained to Sidney the absolute necessity of being ready when Retch and I came to pick him up the