Part 50 (1/2)

And that did it. She could feel herself relaxing, slipping down and away, drifting down through her mind ... farther ... deeper ... toward the tiny voice that spoke in such a strange language and still was becoming daily more comprehensible.

”Uh, say, Trigger!”

25

Trigger gasped. Her eyes flew open. She made a convulsive effort to vanish beneath the surface of the creek. Being flat on the sand as it was, that didn't work. So she stopped splas.h.i.+ng about and made rapid covering-up motions here and there instead.

”You've got a nerve!” she snapped as her breath came back. ”Beat it!

Fast!”

Ole bashful Quillan, standing on the bank fifteen feet above her, looked hurt. He also looked.

”Look!” he said plaintively. ”I just came over to make sure you were all right--wild animals around! I wasn't studying the color scheme.”

”_Beat it! At once!_”

Quillan inhaled with apparent difficulty.

”Though now it's been mentioned,” he went on, speaking rapidly and unevenly, ”there _is_ all that brown and that sort of pink and that lovely white.” He was getting more enthusiastic by the moment; Trigger became afraid he would fall off the bank and land in the creek beside her. ”And the--ooh-ummh!--wet red hair and the freckles!” he rattled along, his eyes starting out of his head. ”And the lovely--”

”Quillan!” she yelled. ”Please!”

Quillan checked himself. ”Uh!” he said. He drew a deep breath. The wild look faded. Sanity appeared to return. ”Well, it's the truth about those wild animals! Some sort of large, uncouth critter was observed just now ducking into the forest at the upper end of the valley!”

Trigger darted a glance along the bank. Her clothes were forty feet away, just beside the water.

”I'm observing some sort of large, uncouth critter right here!” she said coldly. ”What's worse, it's observing me. Turn around!”

Quillan sighed. ”You're a hard woman, Argee,” he said. But he turned. He was carrying a holstered gun, as a matter of fact; but he usually did that nowadays anyway. ”This thing,” he went on, ”is supposed to have a head like a bat, three feet across. It flies.”

”Very interesting,” Trigger told him. She decided he wasn't going to turn around again. ”So now I'll just get into my clothes, and then--”

It came quietly out of the trees around the upper bend of the creek sixty feet away. It had a head like a bat, and was blue on top and yellow below. Its flopping wing tips barely cleared the bank on either side. The three-foot mouth was wide open, showing very long thin white teeth. It came skimming swiftly over the surface of the water toward her.

”Quiiii-LLAN!”

They walked back along the trail to camp. Trigger walked a few steps ahead, her back very straight. The worst of it had been the smug look on his face.

”Heel!” she observed. ”Heel! Heel! Heel!”

”Now, Trigger,” Quillan said calmly behind her. ”After all, it was you who came flying up the bank and wrapped yourself around my neck. All wet, too.”

”I was scared!” Trigger snarled. ”Who wouldn't be? You certainly didn't hesitate an instant to take full advantage of the situation!”

”True,” Quillan admitted. ”I'd dropped the bat. There you were. Who'd hesitate? I'm not out of my mind.”