"But which way do we look, señor?" Paco protested. "You said El Chupacabra spun and turned in flight. We will have no idea where to look for these tracks."

Upon reaching the pickup, Dylan opened the door and more or less pushed Paco inside. "It turned when it was trying to get at me. But there at the end, I hurt it. I think I hurt it pretty bad. That goat sucker of yours was heading straight for home when it got away last night. Not passing go, not collecting $200. It was headed for home and we're going to find out where it lives."

It took the better part of the morning just to find the first set of tracks, but after that, things went much faster. Just as Dylan had predicted, there were push-off tracks from a two legged, four clawed toes per foot creature every 90 feet or so. The tracks led off in a straight line.

By mid-afternoon, Dylan had found the lair of El Chupacabra. The creature made its home in a burrow in the wall of a ditch that never caught direct sunlight. The mouth of the burrow was about eight inches in diameter and seemed to go straight down. It exuded a foul odor, the smell of rot and putrefaction.

"Go back to the ranch and bring me back a five gallon can of gas," Dylan commanded. "Get Hector to issue you some dynamite and blasting caps, and enough wire to get us out of the danger zone."

"You will blast it out?" Paco asked incredulously.