When Granddad moved him, the little red thing dropped into the crotch of his pants.

Granddad cupped it in the palm of his hand. It seemed to weigh a thousand pounds,

the way he was bent over. His large, rough hand shook as though the thing were 

burning a hole in it. "Uncle," Mother asked him, "what's wrong with you?"


She was watching the muscles in his face twitch painfully, and noticed that his pale

skin seemed covered with a yellow cast; despair filled his eyes.


"It's all over.... Everything ended in that instant ......  Granddad mumbled in a voice 

that quavered like an old, old man's. He took out his pistol and shouted, "You've ruined 

me! Dog!" He aimed the weapon at Red, who was still panting faintly, and pumped 

several shots into him.


Father struggled to his feet, rivulets of fresh, warm blood coursing down the inside 

of his thigh.  He didn't seem to be in much pain. "Dad," he said, "we won."