The ministry sent two park rangers out in the evening. Both groups, the boys from Arrowhead Camp and the girls from Algonquin, gathered in the dining hall to listen to the talk on rabies. They learned what it was: a disease that causes wild animals to stop drinking water and eventually makes them go mad, often attacking other larger animals and sometimes even humans.

“You’ve all heard about the foaming at the mouth,” the older ranger told them. “But that’s when the disease is far advanced. There are few signs in the early stages–although the animal often shows up somewhere it wouldn’t normally be. Like in your backyard, or walking directly toward you.”

“Sometimes people get bitten and we can’t find the animal to see if it really has rabies,” said the younger ranger. “And unfortunately that generally means the person has to be treated, just in case rabies was present. That’s a series of shots. Big needles, too, and they hurt–believe me, I’ve had them.”

The kids shuddered.

The rangers quickly added that it was unlikely there were any sick animals around the camp. There had been a small outbreak in spring, but nothing lately. Even so, they said, the kids should avoid approaching any wild animal that appeared disoriented and not afraid of them, no matter how harmless and cute that animal might seem. They should be particularly wary, the rangers said, of foxes and, especially, skunks.

At the mention of skunks, everyone turned and looked at Nish, who had a reputation for making long road trips unbearable. Nish shook his head and rolled his eyes so he looked insane. He took a quick bite in Andy’s direction and Andy jumped, which made the whole room break up.

Even Muck smiled. The Owls needed something to break the tension. This week at camp wasn’t going at all as planned.

Nish had his own plans.

The boys returned to “Osprey” after the Ministry rangers had left and everyone had enjoyed a late-evening snack of hot chocolate and huge oatmeal cookies. Usually, Nish could be expected to beg or scrounge a second or even a third cookie, but this time he and Andy took off for the cabin as soon as the cookies were served. They said they were wiped out and wanted to turn in early.

The others–Travis, Gordie, Data, and Lars–came in later, and already the lights were out. Andy was lying in his bunk, still awake, but Nish was already snoring like one of the chainsaws cutting up the big fallen hemlock. Andy raised a finger to his lips: “Shhhhh.”

The boys came in quietly, undressed quickly, and slipped into their sleeping bags. Out on the lake, a loon called. Travis smiled; he loved its strange, laughing cry. The moon was out, and enough light was spilling in through the cabin window for Travis to make out the bunks. He liked the moon coming in like that. No need for a night-light.

Travis could tell that Lars had fallen asleep. Data was also dead to the world; he was breathing deeply and, from time to time, mumbling to himself, but Travis couldn’t quite make out what Data was saying. Perhaps he was speaking Klingon, as he sometimes did. Andy was still moving about. Lars was trying to get away from a mosquito. And Nish was still out cold. Or so it seemed.

Nish giggled.

Travis had been sure Nish was sound asleep. But no, he was moving in his sleeping bag, getting up. Had he forgotten to go to the bathroom?

Now Andy was getting up, too.

“What’s up?” Travis whispered.

“Shhhhh,” said Nish. “Just watch this.”

Nish and Andy tiptoed over to the bunk where Data lay mumbling in a deep sleep. Nish kept giggling, and Travis and Lars crept up to see. Travis had no idea what was going on.

Nish pulled Data’s boom box out from under his bunk. He hoisted it up and set it beside Data’s head. “Shhhhhhhh,” he repeated. It was hardly necessary, but Nish was now into heavy dramatics.

Andy balanced the boom box carefully and, on Nish’s signal, turned it on.

Instantly, the room filled with the sound of a circling, angry mosquito. It sounded, Travis thought, as much like a siren as an insect, but Nish and Andy seemed to want it loud.

Nish pulled a white gull feather out from under Data’s mattress, and as soon as the mosquito’s whining stopped for a moment, which meant it had landed, Nish very lightly tickled Data’s nose with the feather.

Data stirred, and Nish giggled softly, delighted with the results.

The mosquito on the tape recording took off again, the sound rising as it circled closer and closer. This time, when it landed, Nish ran the feather very lightly along Data’s ear. Data’s right hand came up and brushed away the tickle, but he didn’t wake.

Nish signalled to Andy. Andy hit the stop button and then pushed rewind.

Nish reached under Data’s bunk bed again and this time pulled out an aerosol can of shaving cream. Very carefully, he began to fill Data’s right hand with foam. When he had built up a nice big mound, he capped the can and slipped it back under the bunk.

Nish gave Andy the thumbs-up. Andy pushed the play button and the mosquito took off again. Andy turned up the volume and moved the tape recorder even closer. Data stirred, mumbling.

The taped mosquito landed. Andy pulled the boom box away. Nish leaned over and poked the feather just under Data’s nose, then ran it down over his mouth and onto his chin.

Slap! Data’s right hand came up and smacked into the imaginary mosquito, sending shaving cream spattering into his face and pillow. Data mumbled, but didn’t wake up.

“Perfect,” hissed Nish, backing away from the bunk.

“Better than we thought,” whispered Andy.

“Why Data?” Travis asked.

“Test case,” said Nish. “Nothing personal.”

“What do you mean, ‘test case’?”

“If it worked this well on Data,” grinned Nish, “think how great it’ll look on our good friend, Buddy O’Reilly.”

“Fat Boy” was going to have his revenge.