The peasant smiled and pointed at Max again. “Dumbhead!” he said.
“You’re right on the verge of running that into the ground,” Max warned. “Now, how about my transportation?”
“Ish kabibble?”
“Yes, I would appreciate it,” Max nodded.
The peasant led the way from the house. He, Max and his wife went to the barn, where the peasant gestured toward a cow that was standing docilely in a stall.
“Am I supposed to ride it?” Max asked. “Don’t you have something with a motor?”
“Da?”
“All right-da.”
The peasant led the cow from the stall. Max climbed up on its back. “I hope I’m not going to get a lot of stares,” he said. “I’m a secret agent, you know.”
The peasant’s wife tossed a rope over Max. “Bibnik,” she giggled, beginning to tie Max to the cow.
“No, no, ish kabibble!” Max protested.
The peasant yelped delightedly. “Ish kabibble?” he asked, as if he could hardly believe.
“Da!” Max cried. “Ish kabibble!”
Following directions, the peasant walloped the cow on the left flank. Stung, the animal bounded forward. Off it raced, past the pig pen, across the field, with Max clinging to its back.
At the barn, the peasant and his wife looked at each other. The wife raised her eyes, signifying complete bafflement.
“Dumbhead,” the peasant explained.
The cow galloped on, with Max hanging onto its neck and protesting loudly-but ineffectively, since he did not know the word to stop a Russian cow from ish kabibbling.
Then suddenly Max spotted the men from the train. They were tramping back across the field toward the tracks.
“Back!” Max shouted at the cow, trying to turn it.
The cow, knowing no English, paid no attention. Unfortunately, the mysterious strangers heard and understood.
“It’s him-the dumbhead!” the leader shouted, as the cow and Max approached.
“Who’s he got on his back?” a second voice asked.
“He’s the one on top! Get him!”
The cow reached the mysterious strangers. The mysterious strangers snatched Max from the back of the cow. The cow galloped on into the night. Max rested in the grip of the mysterious strangers.
“You dumbhead!” the leader roared.
“Frankly, I’ll admit, it hasn’t been my best day,” Max said. “I haven’t lost a train and a cow, both on the same day, in a long time.”
“Will you get it over with?” one of the mysterious strangers who was holding Max said to the leader. “I’d like to get back to bed.”
“Right-get it over with,” Max said. “I took my chance, and I muffed it. Now, I’m ready to die like the good Control agent I am.”
“Vot he say?” the leader asked.
“He’s out of his head,” one of the men replied. “Riding a cow bareback will do it every time.”
Max yawned. “I could use some sleep, too,” he said. “So, if you KAOS people are going to kill me. .”
The leader backed away from him, appalled. “Don’t say dot!”
Max peered at him. “You
The leader hesitated. “I’m not sure,” he replied. “Vot is it?”
“If you don’t know, you’re not,” Max answered. “Okay, I’ll take your word for it-you’re not. But, if you’re not- why were you chasing me?”
One of the other mysterious strangers indicated the leader. “He has something to tell you,” he said.
Max faced the leader. “Yes?” he asked, interested.
The leader drew himself up, then shouted,
Max nodded. “Oh.” He looked around at the faces of the men. “If you’re not KAOS agents, who are you?” he asked.
“We’re members of the Peoria, Illinois, Symphony Orchestra,” one of the mysterious strangers replied. “We’re on a cultural exchange visit. We’re giving concerts all over Russia.”
“You mean you’re carrying musical instruments in those musical instrument cases?” Max said.
“Vot else?” the leader asked.
Max eyed him narrowly. “If you’re from Peoria, Illinois, how come you have an accent?” he asked.
“Vot accent?”
“He’s our conductor,” one of the other men explained. “He’s from Germany. All American symphony conductors are from Germany. It’s kind of a rule.”
“Now, wait a minute,” Max said. “When we were on that train, and you passed me and my friends on your way to the dining car, you stared at us in a very mysterious way. If you’re not KAOS agents, why did you do that?”
“You looked like Americans,” one of the men replied. “We wondered what you were doing on the Trans Siberian Railroad.”
“Would you believe that I’m a secret agent, and that I’m escorting a very important scientist to the North Pole?” Max asked.
“No.”
“Good,” Max said. “Because it’s a secret, and I wouldn’t want it blabbed around.”
The whole group returned to the stranded car. As they were discussing the problem of getting to their destination, they heard a train whistle.
“Is the train coming back?” one of the men asked.
“If it is, it circled us and it’s sneaking up on us from the rear,” Max replied.
“That’s tomorrow’s train,” one of the men said. “It’s early.”
“Isn’t it liable to hit us?” Max asked.
An instant later, the train plowed into the car, hooked on, and kept right on going. Two days later, it reached the end of the line, right behind the last car of the train of the day before.
99 and von BOOM were waiting for Max at the station. They stood by, perplexed, as Max said goodby to the mysterious strangers, shaking hands with each one. Then, when the men left, they rushed up to Max.
“Max. What? Who?” 99 asked.
He explained that the men were not KAOS agents, but members of the Peoria Symphony.
“Max. . one other thing,” 99 said. “Didn’t you tell them your real name?”
“Of course, 99.”
“Then why did they all call you by that other name?”
“That’s a term of affection, 99.”
“Dumbhead?”
“Don’t push it, 99,” Max warned. “Nobody likes a pushy secret agent.”
9
Max looked around the station. “Where can I find some privacy?” he said.
“What for, Max?”
“I want to telephone the Chief and arrange for a submarine to meet us when we reach the coast. We can’t wade to Alaska, you know, 99.”
99 and von BOOM looked around, too. “There are people everywhere,” 99 said. “I don’t think you’ll find any privacy here at the railroad station, Max.”
