McBream's expression was smug and self-satisfied. He looked like a weetareete which, having finished a jug of bovula cream on one side of a theo table, knows that there is another jug, equally full and equally accessible, on the other side.
"But what finally happened?" I asked.
"Well, the blue and green life craft from the Tisiphone came after us. Zinck was on the blue one himself—he thought it was that important. Farquarson was doin' splits and then jumpin' high up in the air, almost to the dome, when they got there. The daisies on his tummy were good and bright.
"Zinck got out of the blue craft, trying hard to keep from smiling, and presented his compliments to the head Talipygian. They glooped and gunked for a minute or two, an' then any remainin' signs of a smile disappeared from Zinck's face. For the trouble was this. The Talipygians didn't want to let Farquarson go.
"The conversation went something like this: Zinck: 'Gloop. Wheepie. Geet.' Intricate wiggle of hands.
"Talipygian: 'Nee. Neeeeee.'
"Farquarson: 'What is happening, McBream?'
"Me: 'Be quiet.'
"Zinck: 'Gleeed! Damn it, Gleeed!' (turning to us) 'They say they're going to hold him as recompense for all their relatives he murdered.'
"Farquarson: 'It was purely an accident!'