title: Campsite Memories: True Tales from Wild Places
author:  Cliff Jacobson 
description: Fans of the outdoors may enjoy these engaging, if often slight, tales of adventure, friendship and nature. Jacobson, a professional canoe guide in Minnesota and Canada, comes off as a thoughtful, decent chap, and he's collected some good anecdotes along the way. He tells of a nonchalant young Inuit man who repairs a snowmobile in the middle of a blizzard using a piece of his rifle barrel. He meets some obnoxious kids who say they are from a "church group" but turn out to be escapees from a camp for juvenile delinquents. He recalls a masterful mechanic who moved between a blue-collar workplace and the white-collar world of his canoeing buddies. If Jacobson expresses reverence for nature, he's not unaware of irony; he reports that most Canadian Indians and Eskimos in the far north rely on power boats and Skidoos and have never even owned a canoe. Some of the better tales reveal something about the author, such as meeting his second wife when she joined his canoe trip and their wedding in the bush; he tells of getting lost as a young forester and of teaching ninth graders environmental science and seeing them develop concern for nature. Illustrations not seen by PW. <BR>Copyright 1994 Reed Business Information, Inc.
zlib_text: Wildcards II: Aces HighAces High
  
  Book 2 of Wildcards
  
  Edited by George R.R. Martin
  
  ISBN: 0-553-26464-8
  
  1979
  
  PENNIES FROM HELL
  
  By Lewis Shiner
  
  There were maybe a dozen of them. Fortunato couldn't be sure exactly because
  they kept moving, trying to circle behind him. Two or three had knives, the
  rest had sawed-off pool cues, car antennas, anything that would hurt. They
  were hard to tell apart. Jeans, black leather jackets, long, slicked-back
  hair. At least three of them matched the vague description Chrysalis had given
  him.
  
  "I'm looking for somebody called Gizmo," Fortunato said. They wanted to herd
  him away from the bridge, but they didn't want to physically push him yet. To
  his left the brick path led uphill into the Cloisters. The entire park was
  empty, had been empty for two weeks now, since the gangs had moved in.
  
  "Hey, Gizmo," one of them said. "What do you say to the man?"
  
  That one, with the thin lips and bloodshot eyes. Fortunato locked eyes with
  the kid nearest to him. 