"Never," said Calhoun politely. "If you're not hurt, suppose you get in the car? I'm as anxious as you are to find out what's happened. I'm Med Service."
Allison moved toward the car.
"Med Service, eh? I don't think much of the Med Service! You people try to meddle in things that are none of your business!"
Calhoun did not answer. The muddy man, clutching the attache case tightly, waded through the olive-green plants to the car and climbed in. Murgatroyd said cordially, "Chee-chee!" but Allison viewed him with distaste.
"What's this?"
"He's Murgatroyd," said Calhoun. "He's a tormal. He's Med service personnel."
"I don't like beasts," said Allison coldly.
"He's much more important to me than you are," said Calhoun, "if the matter should come to a test."
Allison stared at him as if expecting him to cringe. Calhoun did not. Allison showed every sign of being an important man who expected his importance to be recognized and catered to. When Calhoun stirred impatiently he got into the car and growled a little. Calhoun took his place. The ground-car hummed. It rose on the six columns of air which took the place of wheels and slid across the field of dark-green plants, leaving the parachute deflated across a number of rows, and a trail of crushed-down plants where it had moved.