they may very well have done some things with people."

Our trio all sat in amazement.

Doc continued, "I have been involved with various investigations of this sort for years. I have spent this last year hunting for Elk Boy, and I am convinced that he does exist. Not only does he exist, but I think that he is directly tied to some of the old primate center activities."

Even Richard now seemed awake, and asked, "Have you ever seen him?"

"No," replied Doc Harry, "but I have seen his hoof prints, and I have managed to identify his droppings."

"How can you tell?" asked Arnie.

"I've made castings of his hoof prints. The weight distribution is all wrong for an American Elk or Wapiti. The Cervus elephus does not carry itself with the bulk of its weight forward."

Gary swallowed some more beer and asked, "How can you tell how a servant elephant puts its weight?"

"You can tell by the impression depth of an animal's tracks," replied Doc Harry.

"It still don't prove it was any kind of Elk Boy," answered Gary.

"True," replied Doc Harry. "What I find most unique and defining is the creatures scat or droppings."

"You mean its poop?" slurred Richard.

"That's right," answered Doc Harry. "The droppings from the Elk Boy are unique. They may look like ordinary elk droppings, but they have a major defining characteristic…"

"Wazzzat?" slurred our trio in unison.

"Elk boys droppings have the odor of bacon rinds."

"Now I know you're feed'n us a line," said Gary.

"No, I am not," replied Doc Harry in a most sincere manner. "The droppings from Elk Boy are most unique. They have an odor unlike any other animal dropping anywhere."

Arnie stood up and announced that he had to relieve himself.

"You never own beer. You only rent it," giggled Gary as he waved for another pitcher.

"Hey Arnie, I think you may have some crap on your shoe."

"Darned if I don't," said Arnie. "I think I must have stepped in somethin' when I was out in the parking lot."

Doc Harry handed Arnie a paper napkin. "You might want to clean some of it off before you track it all over the floor."

Arnie took the napkin and started to wipe his boot. He stopped. His mouth made an "O." He stared at Doc Harry. "Man, this is really strange. The napkin smells just like bacon rinds."

All three take a whiff from Arnie's napkin.

"I'm a retired School Superintendent," said Harry. "You should know that School Superintendents never lie…"

It isn't so much that Arnie likes taverns, as he likes what is served in them, and the wonderful discoveries that one can make, if one just happens to be at the right place at the right time.