"Sure, nearly every farm has a hunting-shocker. But—"
"Tell 'em to come armed, and come fast. Your place. My wife and I are coming now."
"Say Commander, is this a joke or what?"
"It's the unfunniest joke ever to hit Earth," Kirk said grimly. "Call them!"
He slammed the phone down, grabbed Lyllin by the hand, and lit out, full tilt down the path and into the moonlit road.
By the time they reached Vinson's house, all the lights were on and Vinson himself was standing in the road, waiting for them.
"I hope you know what you're doing," he said to Kirk worriedly. "The boys don't like getting hauled out for nothing. What's up?"
Kirk told him, rapidly, between gasps, as he helped Lyllin up on the porch. Mrs. Vinson, a pleasant-looking dark-haired woman in a pink robe, cried out from the doorway and took Lyllin's hand to welcome her in.
"What on earth is going on?" she demanded. "Why, you poor thing, he's run the legs off you! Come in, sit down—" Then she caught sight of Vinson's face. "What is it?" she asked quietly. "Tell me, so I'll know what to do."