5
Using a spear that one of the natives had left behind, Max and 99 cut the ropes that bound their hands. Then they ran from the village, wanting to get a good distance away before any of the inhabitants returned. Finally, they stopped again.
“Which way now, Max?” 99 said.
Max sniffed the air. “There’s still a slight scent of that terrible odor in the atmosphere,” he said. “It seems to be coming from over there. . and, uh, over there. . and over there. . and over there.”
“Max, that’s all four directions. How can we go all four ways at once?”
“I suppose we could split up,” Max said.
“Two of us? Four ways?”
“Yes, I see what you mean. That will be difficult. This is one of those times, apparently, 99, when we’re unfortunate not to have split personalities.”
“Since we don’t, Max, what’s the solution?”
“We’ll just have to wait right here, 99, until one of those scents becomes stronger than the others. That will be the one to follow.”
“I guess you’re right,” 99 said. “But it seems like such a shame. We’re so close. Waiting is such a waste of time.”
“No, I don’t think it will be,” Max said. “We can use the time to deal with our other problem. Don’t forget, 99, Whitestone, the KAOS agent, is still on the loose. In fact, he’s probably hot on our trail. And before we can be successful at this mission, I think it will be necessary to put our adversary out of the game.”
“You’re probably right, Max.”
“Of course I’m right. Suppose we were closing in on Dr. Livingstrom and suddenly, out of nowhere, a parade appeared. You know I can’t resist a parade, 99. The blare of the horns! The beat of the drums! I’d have to stop. And, while I stood there cheering, Whitestone might make off with Dr. Livingstrom.”
“But, Max, you’d know it was an illusion. We’re out in the middle of the jungle. And this isn’t a holiday. There’d be no excuse for a parade.”
“99, people who march in parades don’t need an excuse.”
“I see what you mean, Max. You’re right, we better deal with Whitestone. But how? We haven’t even seen him yet.”
“We know that he’s following us, though,” Max pointed out. “So. . we’ll set a trap for him.”
“He won’t be easy to snare, Max.”
“It may not be all that difficult,” Max said. “What’s the first rule when setting a trap for an intelligent animal like man?”
“Always punt on the fourth down?”
“No, 99. The rule is: Know your victim. And what is it that we know about Whitestone? We know that he’s an ex-vaudevillian. What does that suggest?”
“Offering him a booking on the Ed Sullivan show?”
“You’re on the right track-but you’re in the wrong jungle. What do you think would happen if we set up a spotlight here in this clearing? I’ll tell you what would happen. Whitestone would see it and he’d be unable to resist it. Ex-vaudevillians are the same about spotlights as I am about parades. He’d march into the spotlight and go into his act. And we’d have him!”
“I don’t know, Max. .”
“Trust me, 99. I put in a little time on the stage myself, you know.”
“No, I didn’t know that, Max. When?”
“In the third grade at Daniel Webster Elementary School. I was the hit of the class hi jinks. Offers poured in from all over the country. Offers from Hollywood. From Broadway. From off-Broadway.”
“Why didn’t you go, Max?”
“My mother wouldn’t let me. She thought it might be embarrassing. You see, I hadn’t quite licked toilet training yet.”
“Too bad, Max.”
“Yes, but that’s past history, 99. Let’s think about the present. Now, here’s my plan: We’ll dig a pit here in the center of the clearing, then we’ll cover it with branches and twigs. Above the pit, we’ll set up a spotlight, beamed directly at it. Whitestone will be lured into the spotlight, then drop into the pit. We’ll take him prisoner, then pick up Dr. Livingstrom’s trail again-free of the danger of being detoured by Whitestone.”
“It sounds perfect, Max! But how will we dig a pit? We don’t have a shovel.”
“Let’s check these capsules,” Max said, putting a hand into his pocket. “R amp; D probably sent along something that we can use in place of a shovel.” He handed 99 a fistful of capsules. “You check these, and I’ll check the others.”
“I have an exact-size replica of the Washington Monument here,” 99 said, reading a label.
“I suppose we
“I also have the city of New York,” 99 said, reading the label on another capsule.
Max peered at her. “Really? It’s odd nobody’s missed it.”
“Well, it’s winter back in New York, Max. Everybody’s probably in Florida.”
“That explains it,” Max said. He read the label on one of the capsules he was holding. “ ‘One Shovel and One Spotlight for Trapping Ex-vaudevillians in the Jungle,’ ” he announced. “Good old R amp; D!”
Max and 99 set to work. 99 dug the pit. And Max mounted the spotlight in a tree above it. After they had covered the pit with vines and twigs, they hid in the underbrush. About an hour later, the sun went down. Max switched on the spotlight.
“It
“Yes, it brings back memories,” Max said.
“Memories, Max?”
“Third grade at Daniel Webster Elementary School.”
“Oh. . yes. .”
“I recited a poem,” Max said, recalling. “In fact, it was a poem that I’d written myself. It had a lot of heart.”
“Do you remember it, Max?”
“Well. . let’s see. . It went:
“Sceerior, Max?”
“Poems have to rhyme, you know, 99. If a poem doesn’t rhyme, it isn’t a poem.”
“Sorry, Max. Go on.”
Rising, Max placed a hand over his heart, indicating deep feeling, and continued:
He paused and explained to 99. “A little patriotism never hurts,” he said. “And it’s always wise to play both sides of the fence.”
“I understand, Max. Don’t stop. It’s beautiful.”
Max stepped out into the clearing, and, facing 99, went on:
He glanced back over his shoulder at the spotlight, then took a step to the rear.