TEEN BOOK CLUB Got shopping? Get discounts! Visit Surfnetkids: Coupons, Deals and Bargains for hundreds of discounts from dozens of online stores. week's book: SNIPER by Theodore Taylor *New to the book club? Just click on the Missing Read link below for any shops you may have missed. Go to: (Today's book starts after the "Dear Reader" column.) Reader, Hi! Wow, I can't believe the week is almost over! It seems like I just started writing these and now it's already Thursday! Do you have any annoying siblings? I sure do, even as I type this, they keep running up and asking me to do something for them. I am the oldest in my family, so I always have to break up the fights and such. Sometimes I wish I was the youngest instead of the oldest. What about you? If you are the youngest, do you wish you were the oldest? And vice versa. I have already placed this book on hold at my library, and I can not wait until it comes in! Big cats have always fascinated me. What about you? Bye, Krista shop me at: ** Interested in being a Teen Dear Reader columnist? It's easy. shop for more information. Missing an shop? Go to: =====TODAY'S by Theodore Taylor (fiction) Published by Harcourt, Inc. ISBN: 9780152061531 Text Copyright (c) 1989 by Theodore Taylor To reference this shop: SNIPER (Part 4 of 5) from Wednesday) The lion roared suddenly, shifting his weight, moving back and forth on his front paws nervously, rocking his huge body, obviously trying to decide whether or not to charge at Rafael and Luis. He flicked his tail up in the air, an early warning sign. If it went horizontal, he'd already be charging. "Be a good boy, Rocky," Ben repeated, pleading this time. "Good boy." Luis crooned, Rocky," dropping back. Rocky's roaring was picked up in the farthest compounds and began to travel eerily, fenced area by fenced area. Most times the roaring of the cats was pleasing, but this charcoal morning it was unnerving. It echoed up the canyon, becoming menacing. The leopards added to the noise with their guttural barks, the jaguars with their coughing roars--five or six notes--the cougars with whistling sounds. And the peacocks had begun screeching again. Cacophony. With Rafael behind him, Ben got to within six feet of his lion, ready to throw a lead around his neck. But Rocky broke to the right, galloping up the roadway. Ben said, "Okay, let him go. Let's get the others." They were less dangerous animals in this situation. He walked right up to Missy, tossing the lead around her neck, and she was soon back in her space, flopping down as if nothing had happened. But Helen, Daisy, and the three males, Rocky, Chico and Mikey, remained loose somewhere in the darkness. The individual compounds were opposite each other at a distance of about four hundred feet. Between them was an area of vines, bushes, grass, and trees; some flower beds. The Rio Naranja was broken into meandering streams so that each compound was watered by a tiny branch of the river. Surrounded on three sides by big cat residences, the Jepsons' pleasant old house was near the aviary and those upper compounds that had been opened by someone, maybe some crazy, this tar-colored morning. The missing cats had obviously gone north, and Ben thought they were likely still within the perimeter fencing. The greatest danger was that they might try to dig out. The compound fencing had four feet of concrete footing, resistant to the sharpest claws. But the perimeter fencing penetrated into the sand no more than six inches, something they'd been planning to take care of for months. Ben said to Luis, "Tell Rafael to wake up Dr. Odinga and have him bring a dart gun." The darts, loaded with phencyclidine and atropine, were always used as a last resort to sedate the cats. Dosage was critical, and the animals had to be hit in the flanks. There were plenty of known cases where cats had died after taking hits in the stomach. Using a dart on Rocky would be a last resort. Rafael loped away. HUDSON ODINGA Hudson Odinga was a string-bean Kenyan with a craggy, shining face that looked as if it had been carved out of anthracite. He was a Kikuyu, born on a Dutchman's farm in the white highlands of Kenya, goatherd until he was fifteen, when he joined the Mau Mau in 1954. Ben's dad said Hudson had done his share of killing white farmers on raiding parties out of the Aberdare. Ben was impressed but also leery of the black man. Odinga was waiting to take his National Boards and the state veterinary exams, having been at the preserve three months. For lack of a better title, he was their temporary resident vet. Ben's dad provided shelter and a little money while Hudson studied. The health of the big cats was basically good, and he usually had little to do except repair minor fight wounds and spray antibiotics on them. His vet papers from Nairobi were legitimate but essentially useless in California. While they waited near the gate to compound Number Three, Ben asked Luis, "Who could have done this?" "I do not know. Those gates were closed after feeding yesterday, I tell you. I'm sure of that. We did not go out last night." He was talking about himself and Rafael. "I do not know about the African." That was Hudson, of course. He didn't have a car, so it wasn't likely he was the gate culprit, accidentally or not. The strict orders were: "Make sure the gates are closed." In or out. Around the clock. Ben said, "Well, someone came in through one of them, and the bell didn't ring." There was a loud bell for the gates centrally located in the kitchen. The system was automatically activated by nightfall. "Or someone came over the outside fencing," Luis ventured. Ben could barely see the swarthy, angular face. Just the harsh whites of his eyes. "The perimeter alarm didn't ring." Luis said, "We were asleep, Ben," as if he and Rafael were being accused of negligence. "I'm sure you were. I'm not blaming you, Luis. I don't know who's to blame." In the six years that the preserve had been down in the canyon, cats had been out only a few times, and then only by accident. Carelessness while the spaces were being cleaned of dung, fresh straw being put down in the huts. Or while the cats were being rotated, the biweekly procedure established by Ben's dad so they'd have new things to look at, new trees to claw. Rotation prevented boredom and pacing. Ben said, "Well, I'm buying padlocks tomorrow for every single compound. You take one set of keys. I'll take the other. We should have done it before." (continued on Friday) =========BUY this link to get the best price on this week's book: To locate or purchase OTHER BOOKS use this link: =======SHARE THE can forward this shop to your friends and relatives. Encourage them to join our book clubs. It's a great way to stay in touch even if you live thousands of miles apart. comments or book suggestions? Contact me, Barbara J. Feldman, at: Inc., 991C Lomas Santa Fe Dr. #415 Solana Beach, CA 92075 You are currently Purchased to surfteen as: To Purchase send a blank shop to To join any of the free Surfnetkids Book Clubs, visit:

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