Dr. Pilar leaned back in his chair and looked at the big man with interest. “Well,” he said carefully, “that would all depend on what it was. If it was something really … ah … dangerous to the welfare of the expedition, I’d have to say something about it, I suppose, but I’m not a military officer, and minor infractions don’t concern me.”
MacNeil absorbed that “Well, sir, this ain’t much, really—I ate something I shouldn’t of.”
Pilar drew down his brows. “Stealing food, I’m afraid, would be a major offense, under the circumstances.”
MacNeil looked both startled and insulted. “Oh, nossir! I never swiped no food! In fact, I’ve been givin’ my chow to my buddies.”
Pilar’s brows lifted. He suddenly realized that the man before him looked in exceptionally good health for one who had been on a marginal diet for two weeks. “Then what have you been living on?”
“The monkey food, sir.”
“Monkey food?”
“Yessir. Them greenish things with the purple spots. You know—them fruits you feed the monkeys on.”
Pilar looked at MacNeil goggle-eyed for a full thirty seconds before he burst into action.