“Wait a few minutes until I finish your friend, and I will get your number, too.”
“Go to it!” I replied in English, not then knowing the correct formalities, but being perfectly willing to try my chances again with my old enemy.
“What was that peculiar remark?” asked Satan. “Mathlab language? Or perchance the way that half-wits talk on Minos?”
Keeping my temper, I answered: “What I said was for you to come and get my number if you can.”
This diversion proved unfortunate for Satan. He should have severed Doggo’s head while he had him in his power; for, while his attention was distracted by his conversation with me, Doggo suddenly wrenched loose and with a snap rolled Satan’s head upon the floor.
Then Doggo shook himself, went to the door, and called for assistance; and shortly three ant soldiers entered, two of whom removed the dead body, and the third of whom brought a paint pot and brush, with which he proceeded to paint on Doggo’s back, under Doggo’s own number and the string of smaller ones, the number which had been Satan’s in life.
So this was the meaning of the small numbers and also of the formal words used in challenging and accepting the challenge to a duel; Doggo had got Satan’s number in truth. And now, so far as I knew, I had no enemy on all Poros.
A few days later, in one of the corridors, I ran across the first male Cupian whom I had ever seen at Wautoosa. He was even handsomer than the Cupians whom I had met at the University of Mooni. In fact, he was the most handsome Cupian man that I have ever seen, either before or since. He had curly chestnut hair, a straight nose, and regal features and bearing.
But he seemed furtive and in a great hurry. Dragging me into a near-by room, he closed the curtains.
“Place your antennae close to mine,” he cautioned, “and radiate very softly. This is a matter of life and death to one who is very dear to both of us.”