"Banner?" Nancy said blankly.
The cameras came out. There were three in all. Two zoomed in on Skip King, who had recovered his hat and his rifle and was striking a kneeling pose at the swamp's edge, the rifle stock set in the muck. Almost as an afterthought, the third cameraman was shooting the slumbering reptile.
Two natives finished unpacking a long object and brought it up to King. It resembled two short rugs rolled together.
"Open it up." The natives separated, walking backward, and slowly a white banner unfurled between two rolling masts.
Nancy eyed it with growing horror.
BROUGHT TO YOU BY BURGER TRIUMPH KING OF CHEESEBURGERS
Above the banner was Skip King's lean face, and over his shoulder the dappled orange shape of the reptile was distinctly visible.
"I don't believe this," Nancy said in a sick voice.
King cleared his throat and began speaking in a deep unnatural baritone. "This is an historic day in the glorious annals of corporate history. Only a fast food giant like Burger Triumph, Inc. could have done it. Only its marketing chief, namely me-could have conceived it."
"King!"
"Cut!" King shouted. His face was red as a beet. "What's the matter with you? We're rolling here!"
"Our agreement was that there would be no overt commercialization of the expedition," Nancy reminded him.
"These are home movies."
"Then why do you sound like a commercial announcer?"
"A copy will go into the corporate vaults, of course," King said in an injured voice. He turned his attention to the others. "Okay, from the top."
As Nancy watched, she could feel the steam rise from under her collar. King repeated his spiel, and then picked up where he had left off.
"For over a hundred years explorers have returned from the Dark Continent with rumors of dinosaur survivals in the far reaches of the legendary Kanda Tract. White men scoffed at these native tales, but still the stories came out. Until the day Skip King, visionary adventurer, public relations genius, heard the tales-and believed."
He puffed out his chest like a proud adder.
"Behind me, ladies and gentlemen, lies the first known Brontosaurus ever to be-"
"Apatosaurus," Nancy shouted.
"Not again! Nancy, what do you want now? I gave you your fifteen minutes of fame at that last recording stop."
Nancy folded her arms. "You said Brontosaurus. It's an Apatosaurus. I explained that to you back in the States."
"Not now!"
"My professional reputation is riding on this expedition, too. It's an Apatosaurus. Nothing but."
"Glory hound," King muttered. To his camera team, he said, "Okay, we'll take it from the point where I say, 'Behind me, ladies and gentlemen.' Got that?"
The cameras rolled. The native bearers looked bored. They had turned their Burger Triumph T-shirts inside out as a form of silent protest.
Nancy felt her legs again and struggled to her feet.
And Skip King doggedly resumed his spiel.
"Behind me, ladies and gentlemen: Thunder Lizard! Twenty tons of Halloween-colored monster."
"Thunder Lizard is incorrect," Nancy called, enjoying the way King's sharp features turned red as a fox when she interrupted him.
"What is it with you! Didn't I give you enough face time back on the trail?"
Nancy folded her arms. "I'm not interested in face time," she said distinctly. "You said Thunder Lizard. You should have said Deceptive Lizard. Apatosaurus means 'Deceptive Lizard,' not Thunder Lizard. Actually, Deceptive Reptile is the preferred term."
"Maybe you'd like to make up a bunch of cue cards," King said acidly.
"Not really."
"If you had been on the moon when Neil Arm strong stepped off the Eagle, he'd never have got to say, 'One small step for man, one giant leap for mankind.' "
"Actually, he said, 'One giant leap for a man,' " Nancy corrected.
"He did not."
"I say he did."
"I imagine Dr. Derringer is right," Thorpe said.
"Who asked you?" King snarled.
"No bloody body." Thorpe undertoned in a voice that was edged with steel. "But you might start giving some thought to what we're going to do when the beast wakes up," he added in a more polite tone.
"There's plenty of time."
"We don't know that."
"That's right," Nancy added. "We're dealing with an animal whose metabolism has never been studied. No one knows how long he'll stay tranked."
"Long enough to get him to the railhead at M'nolo Ki-Gor," King snapped. "Where suitable transportation has been arranged."
"And how do you propose to do that?"
"Actually, the idea was to coax him to walk that far himself. But I guess I got carried away when I saw him."
"That was your plan? To lure him!"
"Don't have a platypus. We've haven't tried it yet. It could work."