Calvin congratulated himself on his choice of an ally. "Good man," he said.
In the next hour they managed to build a crude platform beside the door, of various boxlike things, nondescript plastic blocks and impedimenta. The giants didn't even look at them. They were, indeed, a strange race. Now the platform was high enough so that Calvin felt he could reach the opening ray.
Summersby wandered over. "What are you doing?" he asked, seeming to force out the question from politeness, not curiosity.
"We're going to make a break, High-pockets," said Watkins. "Want to help?"
"They won't let you," said the big man.
"We can try, can't we?" asked Watkins hotly.
"It's your neck."
"Listen, you may be the size of a water buffalo, but if Cal and Adam and I piled on you, you'd go down all right. Why don't you cooperate?"
Summersby stared at him a moment and Calvin thought he was going to say something, something that would be important; but he shrugged and went across the hall and into the prison box.
"What's eating that big bastard, anyway?" said Watkins.