The mallet expressed that perfectly。 A soft end and a hard end。 A game of
finesse and aim； and a game of raw； bludgeoning power。
He swung the mallet through the air 。。。 whhhoooop。 He smiled a little at the
powerful； whistling sound it made。 Then he replaced it in the rack and turned to
his left。 What he saw there made him frown again。
The snowmobile sat almost in the middle of the equipment shed； a fairly new
one； and Jack didn't care for its looks at all。 Bombardier Skidoo was written on
the side of the engine cowling facing him in black letters which had been raked
backward； presumably to connote speed。 The protruding skis were also black。
There was black piping to the right and left of the cowling； what they would
call racing stripes on a sports car。 But the actual paintjob was a bright；
sneering yellow； and that was what he didn't like about it。 Sitting there in its
shaft of morning sun； yellow body and black piping； black skis and black
upholstered open cockpit； it looked like a monstrous mechanized wasp。 When it
was running it would sound like that too。 Whining and buzzing and ready to
sting。 But then； what else should it look like？ It wasn't flying under false
colors； at least。 Because after it had done its job； they were going to be
hurting plenty。 All of them。 By spring the Torrance family would be hurting so
badly that what those wasps had done to Danny's hand would look like a mother's
kisses。
He pulled his handkerchief from his back pocket； wiped his mouth with it； and
walked over to the Skidoo。 He stood looking down at it； the frown very deep now；
and stuffed his handkerchief back into his pocket。 Outs