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A corpse lashed to the back of an alligator and a beautiful girl in evening clothes give Bill Cory the shock of his life!excerptThe old codger's name was Eph Carson, and he was looking for a general handyman to work on a small mountain ranch out in the high country north of Los Angeles. I met him at the United States Employment Office in town. Our little talk was going along just dandy when suddenly the old man dropped a blockbuster out of a clear sky. "I hope you ain't got anything against lizards, son," he said casually. I couldn't have straightened up in my chair any quicker than if he had given me the hotfoot with a flame-thrower. I was just back from a three-year hitch with the Marines in the South Pacific. Most of that time had been spent in places where the principal kinds of animal life are lizards and more lizards. You find the scaly little varmints in your morning cup of Java. You find them nibbling your K-rations at noon. And after you have hit the sack for the night, you find them snugly parked between your shoulder blades. "Mister," I said, "if it is a choice between a lizard and a slight case of double pneumonia, I will take the pneumonia." The old man grinned. "Take it easy, son," he cackled. "I was just funnin' you. The only lizard around the ranch is Oswald, and you won't have to do no takin' care of him. Oswald's my baby.