couple of Marines in a jeep had to go in first
to get the crowd out of the way. Several of the locals, including
the one with the staff, joined with them; this quick co-operation
delighted Meillard. When they had the lorry down and were all out
of it, the dignitary with the staff, his scarlet tablecloth over
his yellow robe, began an oration, apparently with every confidence
that he was being understood. In spite of his objections at lunch,
the telepathy theory was beginning to seem more persuasive.

"Give them the Shooting of Dan McJabberwock again," he told
Meillard. "This is where we came in yesterday."

Something Meillard had noticed was exciting him. "Wait a moment.
They're going to do something."

They were indeed. The one with the staff and three of his henchmen
advanced. The staff bearer touched himself on the brow. "_Fwoonk_,"
he said. Then he pointed to Meillard. "_Hoonkle_," he said.

"They got it!" Lillian was hugging herself joyfully. "I knew they
ought to!"

Meillard indicated himself and said, "_Fwoonk_."

That wasn't right. The village elder immediately corrected him.
The word, it seemed, was, "_Fwoonk_."

His three companions agreed that that was the word for self,
but that was as far as the agreement went. They rendered it,
respectively, as "_Pwink_," "_Tweelt_" and "_Kroosh_."

Gofredo gave a barking laugh. He was right; anything that could go
wrong would go wrong. Lillian used a word; it was not a ladylike
word at all. The Svants looked at them as though wondering what
could possibly be the matter. Then they went into a huddle, arguing
vehemently. The argument spread, like a ripple in a pool; soon
everybody was twittering vocally or blowing on flutes and Panpipes.
Then the big horn started blaring. Immediately, Gofredo snatched the
hand-phone of his belt radio and began speaking urgently into it.

"What are you doing, Luis?" Meillard asked anxiously.

"Calling the reserve in. I'm not taking chances on this." He spoke
again into the phone, then called over his shoulder: "Rienet; three
one-second bursts, in the air!"

A Marine pointed a submachine gun skyward and ripped off a string of
shots, then another, and another. There was silence after the first
burst. Then a frightful howling arose.

"Luis, you imbecile!" Meillard was shouting.

Gofredo jumped onto the top of an airjeep, where they could all
see him; drawing his pistol, he fired twice into the air.

"Be quiet, all of you!" he