"Dastards!" he screamed. "Vandals, murderers and things that rhyme with what I first called 'em! This is all I'm goin' to take from them four-legged scoundrels. Call up the men, Sparks! Tell 'em to man the guns! We're goin' to blast them murderin' skunks from here to Kingdom Come—"
"Wait, Dad!" pleaded Biggs feverishly. "I think I'm beginning to understand—faintly. If you'll give me just a little more time—"
"Time your Aunt Nellie! I've done all the delayin' I'm goin' to—"
It was at that moment the telaudio, which I had set to vocode any message which came in on the Luna circuit, began squawking. It was faint at first, and sort of garbled, with lots of static, but it cleared as it went along.
"Lieutenant Lancelot Biggs," it called, "aboard the Saturn—congratulations! You are the father of a fine baby boy!"
"B-b-b-boy!" gasped Biggs. His face turned every color in the spectrum, and a couple that haven't been invented yet. "A—a boy!"
"Yippee!" howled the Old Man, his thoughts of vengeance on the Themisites temporarily forgotten. "A grandson! I'm a grampaw! Yippee!"
"Congratulations, Lanse!" I said. "A boy, eh? Swell! Another Biggs in space, one of these days—"
"S-s-see if you can get Earth, Sparks," chattered Biggs. "F-f-find out how Diane is."
"Right!" I snapped. "I'll get at it immediately."