"Come on, little ones!" shouted Macdonald. "Let's give 'em a hand!" And away they cantered.
Bridger shouted, "Hi, Mmpl—wait a minute!" and ran toward the gorilla commander.
"Hello, Blidza; I'm glad to see you. We were afraid the Sthog-mith wouldn't let you leave their tower. Everything's going fine—not a casualty reported, and enough Pfenmll corpses washed up to account for most of their army. A few managed to swim ashore, but they didn't give us any serious trouble. Some of them may be carried clear to the ocean. I see your friends are closing their gates; trust them not to let their precious lakes drain away . . ."
Mary Wilkins Morelli said, "Henley, Charley arranged today to borrow a couple of bears from the gorilla next door. The big wop thinks he's going to learn farming at his age! I never did think I'd have a plantation all my own . . ."
Bridger said, "Well congratulations, Sneeze; first its Charley and now you. Janet's a fine girl."
"Thanks, Chief. When are you going to—ah—settle down? You ought to try it! Look at Emil—married life agrees with him fine. And Ruth—oops, sorry I mentioned it."
"That's all right. I just have some other plans right now—those beaveroids, for instance. They ought to be investigated, and I think I'm the guy to do the investigating. They let me into their place once, and they shouldn't mind doing it again. Nelson Packard was pointing out that with a water-wheel on that dam of theirs . . ."
A wiry, bearded bio-chemist, dressed in clothing from which the sun and rain had long since banished most of the color and all of the press, walked toward the tower of the beaveroid's great dam. He held his hands over his head, and shouted to attract attention. There was a sudden loud whang, and a stone the size of his head soared from the tower and thumped into the ferns a few yards to his left.
Bridger paused, and there came the sound as of a stick dragged along a picket fence. He turned and ran until he was safely out of range, then slowed to a walk. Well, he thought, that's that; I guess they just don't like visitors. I suppose they sent that shot wild as a sort of friendly warning. Maybe if I brought some more bark next time . . .
Hullo, there's a tree whose leaves are turning. Getting on towards autumn already. In a few weeks the foliage will be worth looking at; then, before we know it, it'll be winter.
Looks as if there's only one thing for me to do now. I suppose the boys'll kid me about how iron-man Bridger has fallen at last, but maybe it won't be so bad. As Emil says, she's passably good-looking, and has a swell figure and lots of brains . . .
the end
Genus Homo Page 18
