He scowled speculatively at Denver who waited and worried.
"Forget it," went on the sergeant. "We ain't got time to chase down everybody that knocks off a lone prospector. There's a lot of punks like you I'd like to bump myself right here in Crystal City. Even if you're telling the truth I don't believe you. If you'd thought he had something valuable you'd have swiped it yourself, not come running to us. Don't bother me. If you got something, snag it. If not, shove it—"
The suggestion was detailed, anatomical.
Charley giggled amiably. Startled, the sergeant looked up and caught sight of the monstrosity. He shrieked.
"What's that?"
"Charley, my moondog," Denver explained. "They're quite scarce here."
Charley made eerie, chittering noises and settled on Denver's shoulder, waiting for his master to stroke the filaments of his blunt head.
"Looks like a cross between a bird and a carrot. Try making him scarce from my office."
"Don't worry, he's housebroke."
"Don't matter. Get him out of here, out of Crystal City. We have an ordinance against pets. Unhealthy beasts. Disease-agents. They foul up the atmosphere."