and talked and waited for the sunrise that
would condemn us to Balak for the rest of our lives.

Thinking about our problem had reminded me of an old puzzle I'd heard
somewhere about three men being placed in a room where they can see each
other but not themselves; they're shown three white hats and two black
ones, and then they're blindfolded and a hat is put on each of their
heads. When the blindfolds are taken off, the third man knows by looking
at the other two and by what they say just what color hat he's wearing
himself, but I always forget how it is that he knows.

We got so interested in the hat problem that the east was turning pink
before we realized it.

None of us actually saw the sun rise, though, except the Quack and the
bogus Haslop.

I was right in the middle of a sentence when all of a sudden my stomach
rolled over and growled like a dying tiger, and I never had such an
all-gone feeling in my life. I looked at the others, wondering if the
stuff in the pitcher had poisoned us all, and saw Gibbons and Corelli
staring at each other with the same startled look in their eyes. One of
the Haslops was hit, too--he had the same pinched expression around the
mouth, and perspiration stood out on his forehead in drops as big as
grapes.

And then the four of us were on our feet and dashing for open country,
leaving the Quack and the remaining Haslop staring after us. The Haslop
who stayed looked puzzled, I thought, but the Quack only seemed
interested and very much entertained.

I couldn't be sure of that, though. There wasn't time to look twice.

* * * * *

When we came back to the court later, shaken and pale and bracing
ourselves for another dash at any minute, we found Gaffa and his
grinning chums congratulating the Quack. The bogus Haslop had dropped
his impersonation act and seemed very happy.

"I've learned to like Haslop so well after twenty-two years," he said,
"that I'm quite prejudiced in favor of his species, and I'm delighted
that we are to join your Realm. Balak and Terra will get along famously,
I know, since you people are so ingenious and appreciative of humor."

We ignored the Balakians and swooped down on the Quack.

"You put something in that pitcher after you drank out of it, you insult
to humanity," I said. "What was it?"

The Quack backed off with a wary look in his eye.

"A recipe from the curiosa section of my medical book," he said. "I
whipped