Elmo spied my open tailgate and made for it. Who was I to stymie this natural itch to hunt? Elmo was panting with his mouth open in a smile, looking at me longingly. I knew instantly we’d cover many miles together. I fidgeted with the money in my pocket, acting indecisive. Elmo was destined for bird-hunting history, and I was destined to have him. Five hundred dollars was big money, but for a dog like Elmo, it was a wonder Tom wasn’t asking more.