“Chic—why, I—my grandfather shipped some chicle.”
“Chicle. Go to the adjusting bureau. Can’t you see I’m in conference?” The man’s voice rose.
“But—you don’t understand. You—I—” Pant was becoming more and more confused.
“Understand? Of course I understand. You want an adjustment on chicle. Can’t you go where I tell you to?”
The boy was about to give up hope when a familiar voice from behind spoke his name.
“Why Pant, old chap! How did you get up here?” the voice said.
Turning, he found himself staring into the eyes of Kirk, his boy pal of that first adventure in the Maya cave.
“Is this some young friend of yours?” The man at the desk asked, turning to Kirk. His tone had suddenly grown warm and friendly.
“Why yes, Uncle, a very good friend from Central America. We had some adventures together. Remember the Maya cave? This is Pant.”
“Ah, Pant. Glad to meet you.” The man put out a hand. “Tell you what, Pant, I’ll turn you over to my nephew. He’ll help you out. If there is anything he can’t do, and I can, come around.”