"No shivers?" asked Randy presently, as if in envy. "Wouldn't you rather not and say you did? I'll take over for you!"
"Don't tempt me!" said McCauley, pushing his cup across the table. "And how about some more coffee?"
Randy grunted. Maybe he'd been ordered to do some kidding, so McCauley wouldn't get the wind up. But it didn't matter to Ed. If only everything went all right at the blockhouse everything would have to go all right all along the line. But the chance that things might be fouled up there made him want to keep his fingers crossed. Yes. The blockhouse was the big hurdle. Anything that happened after that wouldn't be failure on his part. He wanted to pray again, this time about the blockhouse. But he didn't.
The two men left the officers'-quarters building together. There was a jeep waiting, with Sergeant Hall at its wheel.
"Mornin', Lieuten't. How you feeling?"
The sergeant looked at McCauley with the same combination of envy and anxiety that Randy had shown—envy for what McCauley had ahead of him, anxiety for whether he felt all right so that he could go through with it.
"Look!" said McCauley, annoyed. "I'm all right! There's nothing to worry about! The thing's been done before with instruments, dummies, monkeys, and now it's me. I'm just another ape. That's all! For the love of Saint Aloysius stop worrying!"
Sergeant Hall let in the clutch.
"Okay, Lieuten't," he said mildly. "I was just going to wish you good luck."
"Cross your fingers against the medics," said McCauley dourly. "I never liked doctors. I've got to get by some of them."