tepee and papooses
Left his squaw and council fires
Came to answer to the calling
Left the braves and mighty warriors
Left the council of the chieftains
Left the forest and the woodlands
Left the mink and beaver playing
Left the tom-toms and—
What else was left was never known because Gutsy suddenly interrupted.
“How’s Bosworth? Is he still sore at me for what I done?”
“Bosworth heap hot,” grunted Whooping Water enigmatically, irritated by the interruption.
Left the mink and beaver playing
Left the tom-toms and—
This time Cosmo broke in.
“Excuse the interruption, chief,” he said apologetically, “it isn’t that we aren’t interested in where you came from, but MacGruder isn’t good for much longer and there’s something we go to find out.”
MacGruder obviously wasn’t good for much longer. He had a faint white froth on his lips and he seemed to be having trouble breathing.
Gutsy leaned over and whispered to Albert.
“Ya don’t bust in, ya never find out nothing. That ‘mink and beaver’ routine of his can keep going all night.”
“What I want to know is just this,” continued Cosmo. “We got a guy from the U that…”
“Throw some water on him,” said Cosmo.
Gutsy did and MacGruder came to with a start.
“Did he come through?” he asked groggily.
“He sure did, boy, he sure did. We found this Hoskin character’s heel,” said Cosmo triumphantly. “It’s a tomato named Priscilla Yergut what teaches over at the University. I’m sending Gutsy over to put the snatch on her.”
MacGruder reached out automatically for the bottle that was sitting in front of him and then recoiled as if it had suddenly become red hot.
“Oh, no!” he whispered, his face a mask of horror.
“No what?” asked Gutsy.
“No nothing for two whole weeks!” said MacGruder brokenly. “One of my periodicals just hit me!”
Without a backward glance he pulled himself to his feet and staggered from the room.
3
“Albert!” shrieked Priscilla as Gutsy dragged her into the room, “What have they been doing to you?”
Before Albert could answer, Cosmo cut in. “What’s been done to him, lady, ain’t nothing to what’s going to be done to you unless he starts doing like he’s told.”
Albert blanched, and for the first time that day he felt his resolution slipping. “Don’t you dare touch her!”
“I ain’t,” said Cosmo, “Gutsy here is the boy that’ll handle the job. Take off your shirt, Gutsy, and show the lady what a real man looks like.”
He grinned. “Take it off.”
Bashfully, Gutsy did. He had a torso like a gorilla and just as much hair. Albert took one look and shuddered in revulsion. Priscilla shuddered too, but with something else.
“Make your choice, Prof. Either you walk out of here with your lady friend on your arm or Gutsy gets her.”
Gutsy, rather pleased at the second prospect, threw out his chest, and clenching his fists, held out his arms to exhibit his biceps.
Priscilla gasped again and then she let out a little whinny. She looked at Albert sagging in his chair and then back at Gutsy strutting up and down like a bull ape in mating season.
“Albert,” she said in sudden decision, “I don’t know what they want you to do, but whatever it is, remember that your integrity must come first.”
Cosmo didn’t like the way things were going. “Get her out of here,” he shouted to Gutsy. When she was gone he turned ferociously to Albert. “It ain’t as simple as you think,” he growled. “First he’s going to…”
When he had finished with his enumeration, Albert was white-faced.
“Think it over, punk,” said Cosmo. “I’m giving you exactly half an hour to make up your mind.”
As he headed for the door he gave Albert’s briefcase a kick that sent it sailing into the far corner. As the lock on the door clicked behind him, Albert slumped down and buried his face in his hands. Then he straightened up again. The pressure of his palms on his swollen cheeks hurt too much.
“Got to think,” he muttered to himself. “I’ve got to think fast.”
His thoughts led him in a weird direction. When he finished them he found himself with a small black vellum-bound volume in one hand and his watch in the other. He kept looking back and forth from one to the other.
He didn’t believe in the supernatural. No intelligent young Middle-English teacher did. But after his experience with MacGruder he found himself filled with serious doubts.
Twenty-four minutes left. There wasn’t any use in prolonging Priscilla’s agony. He dragged himself to his feet again and tottered toward the door. But… He looked at the book again.
On page 87 he found something he thought might work.
Chalk he had of course. The janitors were supposed to see that each class room had plenty, but they were all secret drinkers and never did. Albert was a man who was tongue-tied without a blackboard to doodle on, and as a result he always kept a private stock in his pockets. He fished out the longest and chalked a pentagram on the floor, feeling rather foolish as he did so.
All that was left after that was the fire and the blasting rod. The fire was easy to provide. Albert didn’t smoke but he always carried matches for the benefit of full professors who did. Taking off his undershirt—which fortunately was rather frayed anyway—he tore it into little strips and crumpled them in an old glass ashtray which he placed in the middle of the floor.
A piece of the tubular brass from which the curtains hung was taken down to serve as a blasting rod and he was finally ready to go. He ran through the incantation he had selected from the little black book until he was satisfied he had it letter perfect, and then touched a match to the scraps of undershirt.
Staring intently into the little pile of smoldering rags that served as his fire, he whispered: “Aglon, Tetragram, vaycheon stimulamaton ezpahers retragrammaton olyaram irion esytion existion eryona onera orasym mozm messias soter Emanuel Sabaoth Adonay, te adora, et te invoco!”
With that he spit into the fire.
“Venite,
