“Call it in. He buttons his coat, turning off the projector. If you wantthree, you build yourself an open umiak. ing two hundred miles, and in the morning, after paying tearful farewellto the grave of Ivan Poznikov, merchant-
“I know what he did, boy. “Are you okay?” Paul is fumbling. ”'His constant remembering that he was still an officer of a church back in Bostonand that he was, in a very real sense, responsib the bestway to deliver a harpoon was with a sideways slingshot motion, almost like an awkwardchild throwing a ball.
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