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Pat got up, a makin' awful wry faces, and began to limp, to show how lame his shoulder was, and to rub his arm, to see if he had one left, and the squirrel ran about the tree hoppin' mad, hollerin' out as loud as it could scream, chee, chee, chee.
With the grid operator landed again, and after the grid was operable once more and had sent the Med Ship a good five planetary diameters into space some few hours after the ship was in overdrive again Calhoun and Murgatroyd had coffee together. Murgatroyd zestfully licked his emptied tiny mug, to get the last least taste of the beverage. He said happily, "Chee!" He wanted more.
"Well, we didn't get tied up in a hole we couldn't get out of," retorted the little fellow. "I guess you'd have been in the old temple until now if you hadn't traveled with an escort," Jack cut in. The boys, laughing and "roasting" each other, passed up the ladder and to the half earthen, half-board floor of the mud hut. There they found the woman Chee moving about with a swollen face.
But Murgatroyd was a small, furry animal with long whiskers and a hirsute tail and a habit of imitating the actions of humans. He sneezed yet again and looked up. There was a handkerchief in Calhoun's pocket. Murgatroyd dragged it out and held it to his face. He sneezed once more and said, "Chee!" and returned the handkerchief to its place. He regarded the grid operator disapprovingly.
He and Rhiannon made their way to the pupu table where he poured them wine. "I'm going to look around," she said. "Good, good. See you later." Joe stayed close to the kim chee and the shrimp. There was a platter of spanakopita, veggies, watercress and sour cream dip . . . Mo appeared. "Art can wait," he mumbled around a mouthful of sourdough roll. "So, where did you find PrettyLocks?"
"Now when your gun, Squire, was a knockin' over Blue-nose, and makin' a proper fool of him, and a knockin' over Jonathan, and a spilin' of his bran-new clothes, the English sung out chee, chee, chee, till all was blue agin. You had an excellent gun entirely then: let's see if they will sing out chee, chee, chee, now, when we take a shot at them.
"Pat threw one foot out astarn, like a skullin' oar, and then bent forrards like a hoop, and fetched the rifle slowly up to the line, and shot to the right eye. Chee, chee, chee, went the squirrel. He see'd it was wrong. 'By the powers! sais Pat, 'this is a left-handed boot, and he brought the gun to the other shoulder, and then shot to his left eye.
"Well," says he, "what would you suggest?" "Ah, say!" says I. "Couldn't you give a guess? Why, if I was you I'd fix it so that when Sis comes back to town she wouldn't find him on no kid's job. I'd give him a show to get his name painted on a door somewhere." "Torchy," says he, punchin' the button for his secretary, "I shouldn't wonder if we did." Chee! but I'm gettin' to be useful!
"'Oh bad luck to you, sais Pat, 'if you had a been at t'other eend of the gun, and he rubbed his shoulder agin, and cried like a baby, 'you wouldn't have said chee, chee, chee, that way, I know.
"Tee-hee! Tee-hee! Tee-hee!" chirruped both Chee and Chirk, so amused at the funny tangle of legs in which the Walking Stick was, that they forgot to run away. Now the "Parson's" long legs made great strides, and before they knew what had happened Chee was being soundly beaten. "Whack! Whack! Whack!" went the Walking Stick on his little shiny black back.
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