“Then you stay there,” advises Doleful. “If I step on you don’t get sore, ’cause I don’t mean nothing but good-by. Sabe?”
Doleful stumbles across Ajax’s feet and goes weaving off through the mesquite, hanging on to his pants and picking up cactus in his feet. Then Ajax gets to his feet and peers around. His specs are still hanging around his neck, and he tries to put ’em on. He’s been booted across the bridge of his nose, the same of which makes his specs feel like his nose was in a vise.
He yanks ’em off, and then begins to search his pockets. After a while he finds what he’s looking for. Then he feels his way over to a rock, where he gets interested in looking at something—or trying to. We sneaked over and took a look. He’s got a compass on the rock, and is talking to himself.
“Unless I am greatly mistaken I traveled due south. Due north would take me—uh— Now would it? Which way did I pursue the Ovius? Well, no matter, as I can not see the compass, therefore I am lost. Perhaps my shadow will inform me of the position of the sun, and by taking the time of day——”
He turns and peers at the ground.
“Futile,” he mutters. “There is no shadow. No matter, as my watch is not running. Still I am lost. Not knowing the proper procedure in such a case, I will endeavor to remain stationary until such a time as I may regain the use of my optic nerves. I will think of a remedy.”
“Raw beefsteak is hyiu stuff,” suggests Magpie. “Ever try it?”
Ajax almost hopped out of his shoes. He peers at us, and then:
“Ah! Raw steak? I greatly prefer mine medium, en casserole.”
“It’s no use, Ike,” sighs Magpie. “I had hopes that he’d been hit so hard that he’d talk our language, but I’m a poor guesser. You take one side, Ike, and I’ll take the other.”