"Bit violent, isn't he?" he grunted. "Think we should let him loose, or wait a bit until he cools down?"
"I don't know," the Colonel said with a chuckle. "You're the boss. Do as you think best. Maybe, if he said 'pretty please,' or something."
"Quite," Freddy said, and turned to Dave. "Say 'pretty please,' and I'll consider it," he grinned.
Dave looked daggers, and pressed his lips tightly together. Freddy sighed, stood up and started brushing dust off his uniform.
"What do we do now, sir?" he asked, and deliberately turned his back on Dawson. "Want me to fly you to San Diego, and have somebody come back for these three? Or—"
"Okay, okay, you win, you sawed off made in England little runt!" Dave roared. "Pretty please, confound you. Now untie me, for cat's sake."
Freddy walked over to him and leveled a reprimanding finger.
"Such a tone of voice!" he admonished sternly. "Say it nicely, just as you were taught in school, now."
Dave turned forty different colors of the rainbow, but he finally managed to swallow his wrath.
"Pretty please," he said. "I will remember this moment always. And I mean always, you cluck!"