Jim gave a snort at his partner's lack of confidence in him, then went silent as he stepped down from the Wanderer. As if he'd misplace any object as large as a train in these woods! Arte might put his faith in maps and compasses, but Jim's sense of direction was impeccable. He kept to a straight path as he left the train behind in search of a long-eared dinner ingredient, taking in deep breaths of the fresh woodland air. This might not be as exciting as their usual line of work, but this was the life! And yet, as he kept to his path and searched the ground for rabbit holes, a strange feeling of unease began to come over him. He couldn't understand why. He'd gone on countless expeditions through forests all his life, and yet there was something just a little bit different about this forest. Something odd and unnatural. He couldn't quite place it. He was really going to have to figure out exactly what part of the state they'd detoured into once he and Arte got back to civilization. Where had those misbegotten rail maps led them?

Twenty minutes later, and still with no rabbit den in sight, Jim looked up from the ground and noticed something about the trees that he hadn't before. Their colors were just a little bit off. It was hard to tell at first, since he hadn't been paying particularly close attention to them, but that must have been what was nagging at his subconscious. It was almost as if these trees weren't real, more like they'd been painted . . . .

And the ground and the sky too . . . .

Everything was just a little too bright, a little too intense, as if it all was a piece of strange artwork . . . .

What . . . if that's exactly what it was?

Loveless.

Jim froze in his tracks as he remembered the mad little wizard's technique for using sounds to make it possible for people to step into and out of paintings. Could that be how they had gotten lost? Had Dr. Loveless perfected his technique to the point that he had transported the entire Wanderer into a trap? Switched Washington's rail maps with his own as the bait?

Even without his cotton-tailed game in hand, Jim felt the sudden urge to turn around, go back to the train and warn Arte and the engineers of this possibility. They needed to find a way out of this bizarre territory without further delay. Except . . . when he turned around, Jim was disoriented by the view. The way back didn't seem to be quite the way he'd come. Nothing looked quite right, or sounded entirely right. How could he have gotten even more lost than the train? He'd been walking in a straight line, he was sure of it . . . . And yet . . . . Momentarily alarmed and dizzy from the disorienting landscape, Jim took a step backwards and felt the ground sloping underneath his boot heel. He stepped forward again and turned around quickly, gun raised, trying to be ready for anything.

"Ehhhhh, what's up, Doc?" a strange voice called out.

Doc!

Was Loveless here? Nearby?

Jim searched for the speaker and thought he must be hallucinating. There, on the far side of a large hole in the forest floor that he had nearly stepped into, was the biggest . . . rabbit? . . . Jim had ever seen in his life. But it was nearly equal in height to himself – perhaps even a few inches taller if one considered the ears – and it was standing on its hind legs, just like it was human, chomping on a carrot as if the vegetable were some kind of stogie, and it had white gloves on its front paws. Like the trees and the rest of the forest, the creature had a slightly unnatural look that went beyond those other bizarre characteristics.

I must be drugged, Jim thought. Another hallucinogenic formula. Or Loveless has trapped me in some sort of children's book illustration . . . .

"Were you talking to me?" he asked the strange bunny.

"I was!" The rabbit made a tsking sound and shook its head back and forth before walking toward West and shoving the tip of Jim's rifle away with one gloved finger. "If you don't mind my sayin', Mac, you're a little nervous to be walkin' around in these woods with a pop gun! You could get somebody hurt!" The rabbit took another chomp on its carrot before staring back at Jim laconically. "So, ehhh, like I said, what's up? What's a guy like you doin' wandering around here?"

Exactly what I'd like to know, Jim thought.

"Well, I was hunting rab-" Jim broke off, realizing honesty might not be the best policy with his present company, real or not. But it was already too late. The man-sized bunny had narrowed its eyes, twitched its long ears back and was giving him an unamused frown.

"You was about to say rabbit, weren't you?"

"Well, uh . . . ."

Jim suddenly felt a bit sheepish. As a rule, he didn't eat anything he could hold a conversation with, even if it might be a drug-induced hallucination. The giant rabbit poked one gloved finger into Jim's chest.

"You was! I know a hunter when I sees one! And I'm seein' one right now! So you're hunting rabbit – is that it?" The bunny was so close to Jim now that Jim could smell and feel it's hot, carrot-scented breath on his face. "You know what I say to that, pal? Do you?"

"No, I-"

The rabbit's eyes grew wide again and it got a mischievous grin on its face.

"Goodbye!" it shouted, kicking up its heels and disappearing in the blink of an eye.

Jim rubbed his eyes and stared around in vain, searching for the giant rabbit.

At least I hope I'm drugged. I don't want to tell Arte I've gone insane . . . .

Artemus!

If Loveless was behind all this, then Jim's partner was in just as much danger as Jim was. He had to find a way out of this painted forest and back to the Wanderer before it was too late. Jim might still be Miguelito's main target, but there was no telling what diabolical revenge their archenemy would take on both agents given the chance, and on Orrin and Silas too. Jim tried to reorient himself in the direction that he thought he had left the Wanderer and set out silently once more hoping to reach the train. He hadn't wandered far – not too far, he hoped – when he encountered a sight he normally was prepared for but that this time caught him flatfooted. There, in a small clearing just ahead of him, stood a beautiful woman, looking straight at him and batting her eyes in a flirtatious manner. From the bottom of her pastel hoop skirt to the peak of her beribboned bonnet she was a vision of fair-haired loveliness.

"Whyah, hello, strange-uh," she said coquettishly.

Evidently a southern belle of the charming sort that he had stepped out with on occasion, to judge by her accent. What was she doing here? Was she another victim of this lost, possibly painted, zone, or a native who might show him the way back to the train? Either way he had a good reason for getting to know her better. As he stepped into the clearing, she sidled up to him seductively and gave him another sample of that charming accent.

"Ah have always depended on the kindness of strange-uhs . . . ."

"Uh, West, ma'am," he said, tipping his Stetson to her. "James West."

"Ooohh! Charmed, ah'm sure-uh!"

Her manner suggested that it was something other than mere kindness she wanted from him. She pouted ruby red lips at him and continued to bat her eyes in a way that was downright suggestive. Well, it's not as if he wasn't familiar with an effective technique for winning over local ladies. As they came within arms' reach of one another and tilted their heads, without even learning her name first, he found himself leaning in to embrace her and sample those lips for himself. They were yielding and soft, as he'd thought they would be. More than that, her skin – her cheek was so soft, so fur-

Furry?

Horrified, he pulled back, as with one hand he tore off her bonnet. The blond wig, apparently attached, came up with it to reveal a pair of long ears and a suddenly familiar-looking rabbit face.

"You!" he cried.

"Oops!" the rabbit shrugged. Quick as a wink and with that same impish grin on its face, the giant bunny tore off the remainder of its damsel costume, kicked up its furry heels and bounded off into the forest again, leaving the Secret Service agent almost in a state of shock.

This wasn't a hallucination – this was a nightmare!

I kissed a rabbit! Jim said to himself, wiping the lipstick off his face and a few bunny hairs along with it. I can't believe I just kissed a rabbit!

James West had faced some humiliating situations before, but this one really took the cake. Now he actually hoped that it was all in his head, that he'd been drugged or gone mad somehow, because if Arte or any of their fellow agents ever found out about this . . . .

It couldn't be real. It just couldn't be. This had to be a hallucination, a drug, or . . . . How could he possibly have mistaken that humanoid hare for a lovely lady?

I'm going to pinch myself and wake up now. I will wake up!

Jim closed his eyes and pinched himself, but when he opened his eyes again, he was still lost in that same, strange forest. No sign of the Wanderer or anything familiar. But from a short distance away he heard . . . laughter? Thoroughly unamused himself now, Jim stalked as silently as possible toward the sound. There, at the side of one of the trees, the humanoid rabbit was sitting on the ground, pounding one side of the bark with its gloved right fist and laughing so hard at its own practical joke that it didn't sense his approach.

"What a rube!" the bunny chuckled, wiping tears of laughter out of its eyes. "What an ultra-maroon!" The bunny kept right on laughing until it felt the tip of Jim's rifle press right up against its twitching, whiskered rabbit nose.

"Uhhh . . . ." The rabbit's ears drooped and its eyes grew wider with fear as it realized it was looking straight up the rifle barrel and into the angry glare of the aforementioned ultra-maroon. "Er . . . what's . . . up . . . Doc?"

"My name isn't Doc," Jim growled. "Like I said, it's West. James West. But if you're aligned with a certain other doctor I know . . . ." He let the menace in his manner complete the sentence for him.

The bunny raised its gloved hands in surrender.

"Look, Mac," the rabbit whimpered, "I ain't tryin' to cause trouble! I'm just mindin' my own business and not wantin' to wind up on someone's dinner plate! Besides, you've got it all wrong! It ain't Rabbit Season!"

Huh? Jim paused, uncertain what to do next.

The bunny tried to shake its head, as much as the tip of the rifle barrel would allow.

"It's Duck Season!"

Jim was glad he didn't have the rifle cocked or an itchy trigger finger when he was startled by another voice shouting off to his left.

"It ith not!"

Just when Jim thought his situation couldn't possibly get any weirder, another man-sized animal – a humanoid, black duck, came striding angrily into the clearing. The duck wore no clothing at all, but was tugging at its feathery arms as if rolling up invisible sleeves for a fight. It paid little enough attention to Jim, but looked like it was spoiling for fisticuffs with the rabbit.

"I heard that!" the duck cried accusingly.

The rabbit at least had the good grace to look somewhat abashed.

"Uh, Daffy?" it asked, standing up slowly under Jim's watchful eyes and gun barrel. "What are you doing here?"

"What do you think I'm doing here?" the black duck railed, gesturing at the forest all around them. "I have ath much right to be here ath you!" It lisped as it talked. "Duck Theathon, huh? Thankth for the thour perthimmonth, pal!"

Jim didn't feel merely lost by this conversation or turn of events, he felt practically cast away on a desert island. All desire to hunt anything was forgotten as the two inexplicable talking animals began to argue between themselves about which one he should shoot.

"Duck Season!" the rabbit exclaimed.

"Rabbit Theathon!" the duck retorted.

"Duck Season!"

"Rabbit Theathon!"

"Duck Season!"

"Rabbit Theathon!"

"Rabbit Season!" the bunny agreed.

"Duck Theathon!" the duck retorted.

Jim was so distracted watching the two of them go back and forth and ducking the duck's angry spittle that he never noticed anyone sneaking up on him until the rifle was suddenly knocked from his hands and a thick net came down over his head. Before he could react, he found himself trapped in that net and being lifted up in a tangled bundle by Voltaire's huge, impossibly strong hands. The next laughter he heard sounded far less sane and all too familiar.

"Wrong!" Dr. Miguelito Loveless shouted, coming up from behind Voltaire dressed all in checkered olive and brown hunting outfit and carrying a custom-sized rifle of his own. "It's West Season!"

The malevolent midget pulled the trigger on his little rifle as he pointed it at Jim's face. A small purple cloud enveloped West's head within the net, and he coughed and gave up his struggles against the confining rope. The Secret Service agent slumped unconscious as Voltaire heaved the net, Jim and all, over one shoulder as if it was no more than a carry sack. Then Dr. Loveless cackled again with maniacal glee and scampered, leading his giant assistant off somewhere deeper into the woods while behind them, the rabbit and the duck broke off their argument to watch the trio depart, in crestfallen confusion.

"Well, that isn't how this usually goes!" Bugs Bunny murmured.

"You can thay that again!" Daffy Duck agreed.