"That's quite a racket you two're making." Jeb walked over and peered at them from under jutting grey eyebrows. "Well, you've got the little devil to eatin'!" He smiled and waved at Baba. Baba waved back and the guard laughed. "It's a pity, that what it is. It's just a pity you're worth so much money!" He went back to his seat.
"But, Johnny," Baba clicked, "you couldn't live in the jungle."
"You can't live here—or on Earth. Sooner or later they're going to—well, they're going to want your claws and teeth. Out there we would have a chance. Why, we might even find some of the—" He put in the word 'wild' in English, for there was no word for it in the clicking language, "—marvas, and we could live with them."
"No!" Baba interrupted. "You might be killed. I can make the arrow-birds go away, but there are the horned snakes and the leopards and rhinosaurs and...."
"Wasn't that old rhinosaur about to go away?" Johnny broke in. "Just because you said so?"
"Maybe," Baba admitted. "He stopped a second. But then we don't know for sure!"
"I've got to take the chance. I've just got to!" Johnny insisted. "I can't let them take you away and use you for making somebody's rings or a mess of plastic. Remember that song you sang." Johnny tried to sing the little lullaby that Baba had sung on the top of New Plymouth Rock. The little bear grinned and put his paws over his ears.
"The words are right," he said, "but the tune is all wrong. Listen!" The little bear sang the song that was like the roll of a mockingbird's call.
"That's right pretty," Jeb said from his box. "I'd heard men say that the critters sang, but never did hear one myself. Old hunter friend of mine said he came on a marva once singing to her little ones that way. It was so pretty he stopped to listen and by gum if she didn't smell him and bounce off 'fore he could draw a bead on her."
"Baba sings real well—when he's happy," Johnny said, and turned back to Baba. "And you sing true, too, Baba," he clicked.