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Not a darn thing," Gimp laughed. "Now let's go to my hotel and have a look at what you brought in. Did you really examine it, yet?" "Some on the way. Not very much," Ramos said. "There's a camera." In the privacy of Gimp's quarters, the bundles were opened; the contents, some of them dried and gruesome, all of them rather wonderful, were exposed.
The others leapt to help Nelsen, Ramos, Gimp and Lester strip and pack their gear. Ramos' and Gimp's drums were loaded into the job scout's rocket. Nelsen's and Lester's went into Rodan's. Gloved hands clasped gloved hands all around. The Bunch, the Planet Strappers, were breaking up. "So long, you characters see you around," said Art Kuzak.
The pictures it had contained were on TV, back home. Just another anti-war film, maybe. But impressive, and different. The earnings didn't change Nelsen's life much, nor Gimp's, nor Ramos'. But it sure helped the Lesters. David Lester had resigned from Archeological Survey. He was getting actually sharp. He was doing independent research, and was setting up his own business in Belt antiques.
Gimp's horse just broke his leg," he added, more to Dave than to the visitor. "You don't say!" exclaimed the lad. "That will make Gimp feel bad." "Well, it's all in the game," added the foreman with a shrug of his shoulders. "That's the end of him," he went on as a shot rang out. There had been little firing of late, for the work of branding the strays and other cattle was almost over.
"You can see for yourself, Mr. Vetsburg, how in my brown silk all ready I was. Even even Ruby don't know yet I don't go. Down by Gimp's I sent her she should buy herself one of them red straw hats is the fad with the girls now. She meets us down by the station." "That's a fine come-off, ain't it, to disappoint " "At the last minute, Mr. Vetsburg, how things can happen. Out of a clear sky Mrs.
The applause wasn't entirely facetious. Gimp's whole self had borrowed hard lines and an air of competence from the Archer Five. For a second he looked like somebody who could really cross millions of miles. There was a tiny, solar-powered ionic-propulsion unit mounted on the shoulders of the armor, between the water-tank and the beam-type radio transmitter and receiver.
She was puffing and laughing and bowing and maybe sweating, some, besides. The clapping was thunderous. She came out again and sang Fire Streak in a haunting, husky voice. Meanwhile, a barman touched Frank's and Gimp's shoulders. "Hines and Nelsen? She has spotted you two. She wants to see you in her quarters." "Hi, lads," she laughed. "Beer for old times?... You look like hell, Frank.
She hardly knew that a notice was read as the people rose before the benediction, when the minister gave out, as requested, that "the Village Dorcas Society would meet on Wednesday of the coming week, at Mrs. Parley Gimp's." She was made aware that it had fallen upon her ears, though heard unconsciously, when Serena Gimp caught her by the sleeve in the church porch.
"To-morrow, baby, I tighten the buttons on them new spats. How pretty they look." "Yes, dearie." "I told Mrs. Katz to-day right out her Irving can't bring any more his bicycle through my front hall. Wasn't I right?" "Of course you were, ma." "Miss Flora looked right nice in that pink waist to-night not? Four-eighty-nine only, at Gimp's sale." "She's too fat for pink."
'S-ay, I tell him, 'she can stand her good looks." "It's that big-ideaed daughter who's to blame. Did you see her new white spats to-night?" Right away the minute they come out she has to have 'em. I'm only surprised she 'ain't got one of them red hats from Gimp's what is all the fad. Believe me, if not for such ideas, her mother could afford something better as succotash for us for supper."
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