Rick looked at Scotty. "He turned around so he could see what he was doing," he repeated. "My sainted aunt!"
"Sewed up his own back," Scotty gibed. "Professor! You told that nice man a fib!"
"Great big juicy fib," Zircon said gravely. "Do I wash out my mouth with soap or do I get a medal?"
"Medal," the boys said, and laughed heartily.
"Whatever got into you?" Rick asked the scientist.
Zircon stripped off his coat and rolled up his sleeve. "He was so pompous and so serious that I just couldn't resist. Besides, if I had been serious, we never would have gotten rid of them. Here, Rick. I'll need antiseptic and a gauze compress for this."
The boys looked at the wound. As Zircon had said, it was trivial. The slug had made a neat furrow across the surface of the skin, just deep enough to cause a good flow of blood. The wound already was clotting.
As Rick bandaged the scientist's brawny arm, Zircon said, "I recoiled instinctively when Bradley yelled. But not far enough. One slug just nicked me. But those heavy caliber weapons, like our service .45, will knock a man down anywhere they hit him. This one spun me around and I piled into you two. I think that is what saved us all."
"I didn't know what was happening," Rick said.
"Neither did I," Scotty agreed. "I've seen Schmeissers before, but I've never heard one fired until now."