'I suppose,' Peter Marlowe said after a moment's reflection, 'that you could call it squirrel — or, I know,' he brightened. 'Deer. That's it, deer —'
'For Chrissake, a deer's much bigger,' Max said, still holding the squirming blanket. 'I shot one up in the Alleghenies—'
'I don't mean that type of deer. I mean Rusa tikus. They're tiny, about eight inches high and weigh perhaps a couple of pounds. About the size of the rat. The natives consider them a delicacy.' He laughed. 'Rusa tikus translated means 'mouse deer.''
The King rubbed his hands, delighted. 'Very good, old chap!' He looked around the room. 'We'll sell Rusa tikus haunches. And that ain't gonna be a lie either.'
They all laughed.
'Now we've had the laugh, let's kill the goddam rat and sell the goddam legs,' Max said. 'The bastard's gonna get out any minute. And I'm goddamned if I'm gonna get bit.'
'We got one rat,' the King said ignoring him. 'All we've got to do is find out if it's a male or female. Then we get the opposite one. We put 'em together. Presto, we're in business.'
'Business?' Tex said.
'Sure.' The King looked around happily. 'Men, we're in the breeding business. We're going to make us a rat farm. With the dough we make, we'll buy chicken — and the peasants can eat the tikus. So long as no one opens his goddam mouth, it's a natural.'
There was an appalled silence. Then Tex said weakly: 'But where we gonna keep the rats while they're breeding?'
'In the slit trench. Where else?'
'But say there's an air raid. We might wanna use the trench.'
'We'll fence off one end. Just enough to keep the rats in.' The King's eyes sparkled. 'Just think. Fifty of these big bastards a week to sell. Why, we've got a gold mine. You know the old saying, breed like rats…'
'How often do they breed?' Miller asked, absently scratching his pelt.
'I don't know. Anybody know?' The King waited, but they all shook their heads. 'Where the hell we gonna find out about their habits?'
'I know,' Peter Marlowe said. 'Vexley's class.'
'Huh?'
'Vexley's class. He teaches botany, zoology, that sort of thing. We could ask him.'
They looked at one another thoughtfully. Then suddenly they began to cheer. Max almost dropped the fighting blanket amid cries of 'Mind the gold, you clumsy bastard,' 'Don't let go, for Pete's sake,' 'Watch it, Max!'
'All right, I got the bastard.' Max drowned out the catcalls, then nodded at Peter Marlowe.
'For an officer, you're all right. So we'll go to school.'
'Oh no you won't,' said the King crisply. 'You got work to do.'
'Like what?'
'Like liberate another rat. Whichever sex this one isn't. Peter and I'll get the info. Now let's get with it!'
Tex and Byron Jones III prepared the slit trench. It was directly under the hut, six feet deep, four feet wide and thirty feet long.
'Great,' Tex said excitedly. 'Room for a thousand of the bastards!'
It took them a few minutes to devise an efficient gate. Tex went to steal chicken wire while Byron Jones III went to steal wood. Jones grinned as he remembered some fine pieces belonging to a bunch of Limeys who weren't too careful about guarding it, and by the time Tex returned, he had the framework already made. Nails came from the roof of the hut, the hammer had also been 'borrowed' from some careless mechanic up in the garage months ago, along with wrenches, screwdrivers, and a lot of useful things.
Once the gate was in position and neat, Tex fetched the King.
'Good,' the King said as he inspected it. 'Very good.'
'Damned if I know how you do it,' Peter Marlowe said. 'You work so fast.'
'You got something to do, you do it. That's American style.' The King nodded for Tex to get Max.
Max crawled under the hut to join them. He gingerly dropped the rat into its section. The rat whirled and frantically sought an escape. When there was none to be found, it backed into a corner and hissed at them violently.
'It looks healthy enough,' the King grinned.
'Hey, we got to give it a name,' Tex said.
'That's easy. It's Adam.'
'Yeah, but say it's a girl.'
'Then it's Eve.' The King crawled from under the hut. 'Come on, Peter, let's get with it.'
Squadron Leader Vexley's class had already begun when at length they tracked him down.
'Yes?' asked Vexley, astonished to see the King and a young officer standing near the hut in the sun, watching him.
