“Hope he makes it,” the barrel-chested Bunny rose. “It’s my turn to put out the welcome mat.”
“What does he plan to do?” Rod turned to Bill Williamson.
“’Bout the same thing I did for you. If the fellow gets far enough along, the tetrarchs will retreat, or freeze, and the big fellow will bring him in.”
“Why don’t we help the guy?”
“What do you mean? What can we do?”
“You said we had plenty of oxygen, didn’t you?”
“Yeah. We got it stored in tanks we stole from the tetrarchs.”
“Well, c’mon, Bill. Let’s explode a few or four.”
“Lor Lumme! Tetrarch popcorn! What all will we need, Rod?”
“About eight men. Two teams—two each—for diversion. And four men for the push. We’ll try it small scale for size.”