"I'm Alson Prince, Mayor of Featherton," said the older man shaking hands with the one DeCrabbe stuck out from under the spray gun. "And you are Five-gun Charles DeCrabbe?"
"Yes yes yes!" exclaimed DeCrabbe impatiently in his clipped speech.
"I'm the mayor's son," introduced the younger man with admiration shining in his eyes. "You sure look like you're ready to whip those whirlybirds."
"Yes yes yes!" exclaimed DeCrabbe haughtily. "Always dislike long conversations you know. Supposing you tell me what you know so can exterminate them without further delay. No doubt solution before dusk."
"Before dusk?" asked the mayor, dumfounded. "Oh, no, not today, I'm afraid. They've been around too many years to whip in one day."
"Perhaps shall require two days then," said Five-gun Charles DeCrabbe graciously. "But doubt it. Tell me what you know of them."
"Very well," assented the older man. "Perhaps the best place to begin is with their name. When we first occupied this planet, a bare twenty years ago, we called them wolfhawk-whirlybirds and tigerhawk-whirlybirds because they preyed on vicious animals. The whirlybirds were our best friends in those days. The only trouble is that they ran out of tigers and wolves to eat."
"Presumed they are now called peoplehawk-whirlybirds?" DeCrabbe frowningly asked in his clipped speech.
"Exactly!" answered the older man. "Although that isn't their full name. From the way they attack—"