“Nothing much," Benson said with a reassuring smile. "He likes to gather a crowd and rant about how he used to be a hunter and fisherman — I won't spoil your dinner with any of the details — but he came to his senses and God told him to devote his life to returning nature to the indigenous residents."

“The Indians?" Jane asked.

“Oh, no. He says they came here from someplace else, too. No, he means plants and animals. A real Tree Hugger. But like most fanatics, he considers himself the exception. He carries on about the tourist trade bringing in all the people who wreck the land, but he doesn't make any effort to remove his own sorry carcass from the area.”

Shelley had put down her fork. It was a dangerous sign, when Shelley put down her silverware in the middle, let alone the beginning, of a meal, Jane thought.

“You don't believe in saving the wildlife?" Shelley asked in a dangerously quiet voice.

Benson put up his hands as if to ward off an attack. "I surely do. That's why we left Chicago, because we love the wilderness. I've never shot a gun at any living thing. And I've never caught a fish that wasn't intended for eating. But I'm intolerant of fanatics.”

Shelley picked her fork back up and nodded approval.

“Speaking of animals, there's really an enormous variety of them in the area," Benson said brightly, diverting the conversation. "In each of your cabins there are several handbooks. Mammals, fish, birds, and wildflowers, plus we have a little library next to the front desk where you can borrow books about geology, climate, natural resources, and history of the area. Please feel free to consult any of the books and take them to your cabins if you like. One of the things we're doing tomorrow is viewing a film about the natural history of this part of Wisconsin. Sounds dull, but I promise you'll enjoy it.”