Stiffy complied and Meek leaped astride the broad metal back, reached down and hauled Stiffy aboard.
"Get going, you flea-bitten nag!" Meek yipped, in sudden elation.
There was reason for elation. Not until that moment had he stopped to consider the Prowler might object to being ridden. Might consider it an insult.
The Prowler apparently was astonished, but that was all. He shook his head in bewilderment and weaved his neck around as if he wasn't quite sure just what to do. But at least he hadn't started to take the place apart.
"Giddap!" yelled Stiffy, bringing the butt of his pistol down.
The Prowler jigged a little, then gathered himself together and started. The landscape blurred with speed as he leaped a mighty boulder, skipped along a narrow ledge around a slick-faced mountain, skidded a hairpin turn.
Meek and Stiffy fought desperately to hang on. The metal back was slick and broad and there weren't any handholds. They bounced and thumped, almost fell off a dozen times.
"Stiffy," yelled Meek, "how do we know he's taking us to Asteroid City?"
"Don't fret about that," said Stiffy. "He knows where we want to go. He read our mind."
"I hope so," Meek said, prayerfully.