shall be able to see youagain--"
Screams of exultation, shrill as ever, small hands beatingenthusiastically to indicate joy. Thank God that's over with, hethought. Now for those drinks--and he didn't mean drink, singular. Talkof being useful, he'd certainly been useful now. He'd made those kidshappy. What more can any reasonable person want?
* * * * *
But it wasn't over with. Another old lady had stepped up on theplatform.
"Mr. George," she said, in a strangely affected voice, like that of thefirst dramatic teacher he had ever had, the one who had almost ruinedhis acting career. "Mr. George, I can't tell you how happy you have madeus all, young and old. Hasn't Mr. George made us happy, children?"
"Yes, Miss Burton!" came the shrill scream.
"And we feel that it would be no more than fair to repay you in somesmall measure for the pleasure you have given us. First, a 'Thank You'song by Frances Heller--"
He hadn't expected this, and he repressed a groan. Mercifully, the firstsong was short. He grinned the thanks he didn't feel. To think that hecould take this, while sober as a judge! What strength of character,what will-power!
Next, Miss Burton introduced another kid, who recited. And then, MissBurton stood upright and recited herself.
That was the worst of all. He winced once, then bore up. You can getused even to torture, he told himself. An adult making a fool of herselfis always more painful than a kid. And that affected elocutionist'svoice gave him the horrors. But he thanked her too. His good deed forthe day. Maybe Carol would have him now, he thought.
A voice shrilled, "Miss Burton?"
"Yes, dear?"
"Aren't you going to call on Carolyn to act?"
"Oh, yes, I was forgetting. Come up here, Carolyn, come up, Doris.Carolyn and Doris, Mr. George, are studying how to act. They act people_and_ animals. Who knows? Some day they, too, may be in the movies, justas you are, Mr. George. Wouldn't that be nice, children?"
What the devil do you do in a case like that? You grin, of course--butwhat do you say, without handing over your soul to the devil? Agree hownice it would be to have those sly little brats with faces magnified onevery screen all over the country? Like hell you do.
"Now, what are we going to act, children?"
"Please, Miss Burton," said Doris. "I don't know how to act. I can'teven imitate a puppy. Really I can't, Miss Burton--"
"Come, come, mustn't be shy. Your friend says that you act very nicelyindeed. Can't want to go on the stage and still be shy. Now, do you knowany movie scenes? Shirley Temple used to be a good little actress, Iremember. Can you do any scenes that she does?"
* * * * *
The silence was getting to be embarrassing. And Carol said he didn'tamount to anything, he never did anything useful. Why, if thanks to hisbeing here this afternoon, those kids lost the ambition to go on thestage, the whole human race would have cause to be grateful to him. Tohim, and to Miss Burton. She'd kill ambition in anybody.
Miss Burton had an idea. "I know what to do, children. If you can actanimals--Mr. George has shown you what the hunter does; you show himwhat the lions do. Yes, Carolyn and Doris, you're going to be lions. Youare waiting in your lairs, ready to pounce on the unwary hunter. Crouchnow, behind that chair. Closer and closer he comes--you act it out, Mr.George, please, that's the way--ever closer, and now your musclestighten for the spring, and you open your great, wide, red mouths in agreat, great big roar--"
A deep and tremendous roar, as of thunder, crashed through theauditorium. A roar--and then, from the audience, an outburst ofterrified screaming such as he had never heard. The bristles rose at theback of his neck, and his heart froze.
Facing him across the platform were two lions, tensed as if to leap.Where they had come from he didn't know, but there they were, eyesglaring, manes ruffled, more terrifying than any he had seen in Africa.There they were, with the threat of death and destruction in theirfierce eyes, and here he was, terror and helplessness on his handsome,manly, and bloodless face, heart unfrozen now and pounding fiercely,knees melting, hands--
Hands clutching an elephant gun. The thought was like a director'scommand. With calm efficiency, with all the precision of an actorplaying a scene rehearsed a thousand times, the gun leaped to hisshoulder, and now its own roar thundered out a challenge to the roaringof the wild beasts, shouted at them in its own accents of barkingthunder.
The shrill screaming continued long after the echoes of the gun's speechhad died away. Across the platform from him were two great bodies, thebodies of lions, and yet curiously unlike the beasts in some ways, nowthat they were dead and dissolving as if corroded by some invisibleacid.
Carol's hand was on his arm, Carol's thin and breathless voice shook asshe said, "A drink--all the drinks you want."
"One will do. And you."
"And me. I guess you're kind of--kind of useful after all."
[Transcriber's Note:
This e-text was produced from Space Science Fiction February 1953.Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyrighton this publication was renewed.]
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