Somebody Is Going to Get Shot in Mark Trail

Johnny, busy with "heading" his boat back home as if it were some kind of work animal, fails to notice the watchful eye of a myterious cossack rifleman lingering amid the prolific waterfront fauna. Some sort of marsh penguin waits pensively for any signs of action.

Johnny Appreciates Ranger Red's Friendship, Creepy Midnight Escort to the Dock

The aggressive French Canadian subdued and eager to boat home, Ranger Red returns to his dock beat, grimacing with pride at another job well done. Johnny's ever-shrinking watercraft suggests that the Mark Trail equivalent of Willy Loman is only a few hits in the credit report away from downgrading to a stryofoam cooler and a personal motorized fan. His ever-bloating face in Panel 3 suggests "come and eat with us soon, before I consume every edible morsel in my destitute family's house."

Johnny Ambiguously Threatens in Front of Authorities

The hoe-wielding skirmish between Johnny and Bull has finally been broken up by the ranger and his band of cossack sailors. Malotte continues to make threats in spite of a fevered plea from that yellow-shirted guy's knee cap, which doesn't seem to faze the ranger at all. What he has lost in mustache girth, he more than compensates for in eyebrow growth, so perhaps Johnny's threats aren't as empty as they have been over the past two weeks. Mark is still unavailable for poorly worded comment.

I Lied, Here's Recap Part Deux

Paul ponders his failure to procure business for the hunting camp and the impending bite of his father' s best extension cord. Who's to blame for this pant soaking, and why?

Bull Malone, owner/operator of a competiting camp and the sexiest jerk in the woods, caught wind of Johnny's friend-recommending plans and took matters into his large, large coat collar. Clearly fluent in the preferred body language of all Mark Trail characters, Bull assures the pensive businessmen with a hearty tug of his pants that his camp is as better than Malotte's as his pants are deep and wide. Mister Johnson tugs his blazer to signal his approval, and the usurping is complete. The apparantly eldest Mallote son is in for the extension cord lashing of a lifetime.

Fray on, Paul's jacket, but fray carefully, because this recap isn't over yet.