“Begob, I’m shtuck!” he gasped.
Then he made a second effort to walk away.
It proved to be as futile as the first, and the expression of perplexity upon his face deepened into one of blank dismay.
“Howly jim-jams!” he ejaculated. “Me legs is that numb I’ve lost control av thim intoirely.”
He struggled frantically to move, but fell on his back, the soles of his fur shoes glued to the deck tenaciously.
“Murdher!” he howled, “I’m a goner. Hey, Pomp! Hey, Pomp!”
“Wha’ yo? wan’, honey?” responded the coon, rushing out of the turret with a broad grin on his ebony face.
“Send for a lawyer till I make me will. I’m a corpse!”
“Wha’ de matter?” chuckled Pomp, grinning harder than ever behind his face protector.
“D’yez yer moind ther legs av me?”