“Papa understands. Morning. The clarion call of the feathered creatures.” Satan pauses, lifts his face, and makes a bird call of some sort that Hatcher cannot recognize. “Treedle eedle eedle oodle oodle!” Satan calls, and from behind Hatcher all the naked hunters in the canebrake are compelled to answer with the same call. “I am riven with guilt at mistaking you,” Satan says. There is a sly overripeness to his tone that clearly signals his insincerity. Hatcher understands he knows nothing, reall...y, but hearing the meaning of this tone makes him have about a twenty percent confidence in his previous impression of Satan’s confusion. There are things to think about in all this, but he does not have time. “I’ll make it up to you,” Satan says, striding up to him and shoving the rifle into Hatcher’s hands. “Step aside.” Hatcher does. He turns and watches as Satan lifts a hand and drums his fingers again, and Joe and Adolf approach at a trot. Satan stops them with a wave and then begins to point from one to the other and back again, moving his lips silently, doing an eeny-meeny-miny-moe.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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