"Huh? We can't," protested Matt. "We've got to bring Mr. Thurlow to."
Oscar did not answer him but started climbing up toward the open lock, now ten feet over their heads, swearing in Venerian as he struggled painfully and awkwardly, using one hand, from strut to brace. " 'S'matter with old Oz?" asked Tex. "Acts like he's blown his top."
"Let him go. We've got to take care of the skipper." They knelt over Thurlow and gave him a quick, gentle' examination. He seemed unhurt, but remained unconscious.; "Maybe he's just had the breath knocked out of him," suggested Matt. "His heart beat is strong and steady."
"Look at this, Matt." It was a lump on the back of the; lieutenant's head. Matt felt it gently.
"Didn't bash in his skull. He's just had a wallop on his! noggin. He'll be all right-I think." I
"I wish Doc Pickering was here." '
"Yeah, and if fish had feet, they'd be mice. Quit worrying, Tex. Stop messing with him and give him a chance to come out of it naturally."
Oscar stuck his head down into the open door. "Hey, you guys! Come up out of there-and fast!"
"What for?" asked Matt. "Anyhow, we can't-we got to stay with the boss, and he's still out cold."
"Then carry him!"