dressing-room opened and Jimsy LaRoche cameout. He had a number of snails in his out-stretched hand and he coollykept them there, making no attempt to conceal his obvious purpose inthe shower. He looked directly at Mr. Untz with his dark disconcertingeleven-year-old eyes and said, "Well, Max, what goof-off did you pullthis time?"
"_You!_" roared Mr. Untz, whirling and shooting a finger at the childstar. A focusing point for all his troubles, at last. His jowls shook."You, Jimsy LaRoche," he said, "are going to get your first oldfashioned spanking on the bottom! From me, personally!" He advancedtoward the boy, who backed away hastily.
Jimsy began to look a little frightened.
"Now wait a minute, Max," said Harold, stepping forward. "We've gotenough _big_ monsters to think about without worrying about this_little_ monster too."
Mr. Untz stared at Harold queerly. Suddenly he said, "Why didn't Ithink of it before?"
"Think of what?" asked Harold.
But Mr. Untz had already grabbed Jimsy LaRoche's hand and dragged himthrough the door.
There were several reasons why Harold Potter did not immediatelypursue. For one thing he stood there for several moments stupifiedwith surprise. Then, when he did recover, he plunged forward andpromptly tripped on the cream-colored carpet and fell flat on hisface. He tripped again going over the step to the cottage door. Hebumped into a studio policeman rounding the next corner. He snaggedhis coat on a fence picket going around the corner after that. But hekept Mr. Untz and the dragged youngster in sight.
Eventually he came to the door of Sound Stage Six.
Speaking from a police standpoint all laymen had disappeared. A ringof studio police and firemen, along with some policemen and detectivesfrom the outside, had been drawn around the monsters and everybody andhis brother was shooting off pistols and rifles at them. With noresult, of course. Nor did anyone dare get too close.
Harold caught up with Mr. Untz about the time a man he recognized as areporter did. The reporter was stout, freckled and bespectacled.
"_Untz!_" barked the reporter, with all the power of the press in hisvoice, "do you realize this is a national danger? If those monsterscan't be stopped by bullets, what will stop them? Where will it allend? Where did they come from?"
"Look in tomorrow's paper!" growled Mr. Untz, brushing the reporteraside. He kept Jimsy's arm in a firm grip. Jimsy was bawling at thetop of his lungs now. Mr. Untz breasted the police cordon, brokethrough.
"Max! _Stop!_" shouted Harold. "Max--have you gone mad?"
Max evidently had. He moved so swiftly that everyone was too surprisedto stop him. He burst into the small human-walled arena where the twobewildered monsters squatted and he thrust little Jimsy LaRoche outbefore him--right at the monsters.
An extraordinary thing happened. The monsters suddenly began to quiverand squeak again but this time--it was clear to the ear somehow--notwith rage, but with _fear_. Pure and terrible fear. They trained theireye-stalks on Jimsy LaRoche, they paled to a lighter shade of brownand green, then slowly they began to back away.
"Hold your fire, men!" called a police captain, probably just to getinto the act.
Dr. Mildume appeared again from somewhere. So did Etienne Flaubert. Sodid Eddie Tamoto and some of the other technicians. They gaped andstared.
Slowly, inexorably, using Jimsy LaRoche as his threat, Mr. Untz backedthe two monsters into the studio, and gradually to the cage. Dr.Mildume leaped forward to shut them in once more.
And through it all Jimsy LaRoche continued to bawl at the top of hislungs.
* * * * *
Later, in Mr. Untz's office-cottage, Harold read the newspaperaccounts. He read every word while Mr. Untz was in the other roomtaking a shower. He had to admit that Max had even thrown a littlecredit his way. "My assistant, Mr. Potter," Untz was quoted as saying,"indirectly gave me the idea when he said that one man's meat wasanother man's poison.
"Dr. Mildume had already explained that the monsters came from ahigh-gravity planet--that the smaller of the species evidently seemedthe more capable, and therefore the dominant one." Harold was sure nowthat the statement had been polished up a bit by the publicitydepartment.
"The only logical assumption, then," the statement continued, "wasthat small stature would dominate these life forms, rather than largestature, as in the environment we know. They were, in other words,terrified by tiny Jimsy LaRoche--whose latest picture, 'The AtomicFissionist and the Waif,' is now at your local theatre, by the way--asan Earth-being might have been terrified by a giant!"
Mr. Untz came out of the shower at that point. He was radiant in acanary-colored rayon sharkskin. He was rubbing his hands. He wasbeaming.
"Harold," he said, "they're putting me on a musical next. I got themtwined around my little finger. Life is good. I think that screwy Dr.Mildume was smart to send those things back out into space before theycould get to him. Otherwise we might have _had_ to put them inpictures and with contracts yet."
"Max," said Harold, staring at him quietly.
"Yes, Harold?"
"Just answer me one thing truthfully. I swear I'll never repeat it--oreven blame you. But for my own curiosity I've got to know."
"Why certainly, Harold, what is it?"
Harold Potter swallowed hard. "Did you," he asked, "_really_ figureout that Jimsy would scare the beasts--or were you about to _throw_the little brat to them?"
Transcriber Notes
This etext was produced from Fantastic Universe, January 1954.Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S.copyright on this publication has been renewed.
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