“This is a people shooting hat," I said. "I shoot people in this hat.”

“Up home we wear a hat like that to shoot deer in, for Chrissake," he said. "That's a deer shooting hat.""Like hell it is." I took it off and looked at it. I sort of closed one eye, like I was taking aim at it. "This is a people shooting hat," I said. "I shoot people in this hat.”

“That’s a deer shooting hat.''Like hell it is.' I took it off and looked at it. I sort of closed one eye, like I was taking aim at it. 'This is a people shooting hat,' I said. 'I shoot people in this hat.”

“I almost never shoot people.”

“Where did he go, your father?''Africa.''What for?''To shoot lions, of course.''What on Earth for?' said Mrs. Willow blankly.'Some people shoot lions,' the girl said pleasantly, 'and some people do not shoot lions. My father is one of the people who do.”

“So, Wax,” Wayne butted in. “Where did you say that bloke was who had my hat?”“I told you that he got away after I shot him.”“I was hoping he’d dropped my hat, you know. Getting shot makes people drop stuff.”Waxillium sighed. “He still had it on when he left, I’m afraid.”Wayne started cursing.“Wayne,” Marasi said. “It’s only a hat.”“Only a hat?” he asked, aghast.“Wayne’s a little attached to that hat,” Waxillium said. “He thinks it’s lucky.”“It is lucky. I ain’t never died while wearing that hat.”