When night at last brought its cloak of darkness, Hanlon put the roches to sleep and slipped quietly from his room. Down in the back, though, he could not seem to get his tricky acetylene-powered engine to start. He fussed and tinkered for nearly two hours before he could finally get it going.
"So help me, I'm never going to cuss out a real ground-car after this because it acts up occasionally," he said as he rode out of the yard and down the dusty street. He drove as fast as he could out to the clearing where the sneakboat had already landed.
"Sorry to be late, fellows," he said as soon as he had given the password and been allowed aboard. He accepted gratefully the cup of coffee they gave him, and griped for five solid minutes about those gosh-awful excuses for transportation these so-and-so natives used.
"Here, have a box of candy bars, and quit belly-aching," one of them said at last. The other held out another gift, a pound can of pulverized instant coffee.
"Hey, these are wonderful," Hanlon's spirits rose as if by magic. "You guys are my friends for life."
"Why, Georgie," one of them simpered. "I didn't know you cared."
"You'll have to choose between us, though," the other said owlishly. "I'm not going to be a partner to bigamy."
Then they both laughed. "Look, he's blushing."
"Aw, I am not," Hanlon spluttered. "It's just this pink skin-dye," he added weakly.
"Anyway, here's your cat," the S S men got down to business, and fetched the crate containing the beautiful animal. "We happened to remember hearing that these people don't have milk, so we got you one that's accustomed to a meat and vegetable diet."