Hassan wielded the machete once more, and, slowly but surely, the three penetrated deeper and deeper into the jungle. As time wore on, however, the difficulty of proceeding increased. Without water, and plagued by the steamy heat of the jungle, Max and 99 grew weak. Hassan, though, did not appear to be suffering.
“Hassan, aren’t we about to that native village?” Max said.
“I think we must have missed it,” Hassan replied. “We probably should have made a left turn back there at that giraffe.”
“Why don’t they post signs in this jungle!” Max said irritably.
“They do,” Hassan replied. “But they drop off when the giraffes lower their necks.”
“Hassan,” 99 said suspiciously, “how is it that this heat and the lack of water isn’t affecting you?”
“I was fortunate in my choice of ancestors,” Hassan replied. “My great-great-great-great-grandmother was a camel. I am able to travel for weeks without water.”
99 looked at him doubtfully. “Your great-great-great-great-grandmother was a camel? That’s hard to believe.”
“No, there’s nothing unusual about that,” Max said to her. “I have a grandfather, myself, who’s an Elk. And another who’s a Moose. And my father, as a matter of fact, is a member of the Lions Club.”
99 halted. “Max, I can’t go another step,” she groaned. “I need water.”
Max and Hassan stopped, too.
“As I recall from my Boy Scout training, it’s sometimes possible to squeeze water from plants,” Max said. “It won’t hurt to try, anyway. Even if we got only a few drops, that would be a help.”
Max snapped off a plant at the stem and squeezed it in his fist, holding his other hand under it. A drop of liquid fell into his palm, then another, and another.
“It’s coming, 99!” Max said triumphantly.
The drips began to fall faster. Max cupped his hand. The liquid flowed from the plant, gushing into his hand. Max’s cup ranneth over. Water poured into the jungle.
“Man the lifeboats!” Max shouted.
“Max, for heaven’s sake,” 99 said, “don’t you see what’s happening?”
Oddly, 99 and Hassan seemed unaffected by the flood.
“Secret agents first!” Max cried in panic as the water rose.
A four-masted schooner skimmed by.
“Send help!” Max called after it.
“Max, no!” 99 said. “Keep your head!”
The water rose higher. Max began dogpaddling.
An ark, stocked with animals, floated by.
“Noah! Wait for Max!” Max bellowed. “You’ll need me. My grandfather was an Elk. My other grandfather was a Moose. My father is a Lion.”
“Max, it’s an illusion!” 99 said. “It’s a trick!”
He looked at her blankly for an instant, then, pained, said, “Oh.”
The water vanished.
“99, I wish you hadn’t done that,” Max said crankily. “Why did you have to tell me right then that the water was an illusion?”
“There wasn’t any water, Max,” 99 insisted. “Whitestone was playing a trick on you.”
“I know that, 99. But you could at least have waited until we’d all had a drink.”
“I’m sorry, Max. I guess I just wasn’t thinking.”
“Well, anyway, some good came of it,” Max said. “Now we have a trail to follow.” He pointed. “Right over there. That ark plowed a big hole right through the underbrush. Good old Noah!”
Hassan took the lead again, and once more the three began hacking and clawing their way through the jungle. From overhead came the chattering of monkeys and the hissing of snakes. And from the surrounding undergrowth came the cries of other animals, lions, tigers, elephants and hyenas.
“Why are the animals making all that racket?” Max asked Hassan.
“They’re telling the animals up ahead that we’re on our way,” Hassan replied.
“Really? What for?”
“Just a matter of interest,” he replied. “Most of these animals have never seen a secret agent before.”
“Oh.” Max turned to 99. “It’s a good thing the animals don’t keep zoos,” he said. “We might be in trouble.”
Hassan suddenly halted, peering through the underbrush.
“What is it?” Max said.
“Up ahead-a veldt,” Hassan replied.
Max faced back to 99 again. “There’s a veldt up ahead,” he said. “Be very quiet. We may be able to slip past it.”
“Max. . what is a veldt?”
“I’m not sure. Just a minute, I’ll ask Hassan.” He tapped the guide on the shoulder. “Hassan. . what exactly is a veldt?”
“It’s what you Americans would call a prairie-an open stretch of field,” Hassan replied.
Max turned back to 99 once more. “You can forget about being quiet, 99,” he said. “A veldt isn’t dangerous.”
“I’m not sure about this one,” Hassan said, moving forward again. “It could be very dangerous.”
A moment later they reached the edge of a wide open space. It was crawling with tiny ants. And they were emitting a high-pitched squeaking sound.
“Just what I was afraid of,” Hassan said. “We’re stopped. We’ll have to turn back.”
“That’s ridiculous,” Max said. “Those are only ants.”
“Ants with a difference,” Hassan said. “These are man-eating ants. Hear that sound they’re making? They’re talking about us.”
Max cocked an ear. “As a matter of fact, I think I did hear my name mentioned.”
“They’re arguing over who’ll get the drumsticks,” Hassan said.
Max shuddered. “I think you’re right-we better turn back.”
“Max, we can’t!” 99 said. “Our mission comes first. We must go on-even if it costs us our lives.”
“You’re right, 99.”
“If we try to cross this veldt, we’ll be eaten alive,” Hassan said. “We must turn back.”
“You’re right, Hassan,” Max said.
“But, Max, the Chief is depending on us,” 99 said. “We must go on!”
“99, you’re right.”
“It would be suicide,” Hassan said. “We must turn back.”
“Hassan, you’re entirely right.”
“Max, will you make up your mind?” 99 said. “We can’t do both-go forward and go back, too. Which will it be?”
“Couldn’t we just stay right here?” Max suggested.
“Max, no. You must make a decision. Forward or back.”
Scowling, Max studied the man-eating ants. “Forward,” he decided. “Hassan, I think you’re wrong about those ants. I don’t think they’ve spotted us. If they had, why haven’t they attacked?”
“You may be right,” Hassan replied. “But if we try to cross the veldt, they’ll see us for sure.”
“Not if my plan works out,” Max said. “I propose that we very carefully step between them. They’re so busy, they probably won’t even notice us.”
Hassan shrugged, accepting the decision. “It’s your drumstick,” he said.
This time, Max led the way. Paying particular attention to where he stepped, he started across the veldt. 99 followed. And Hassan brought up the rear.
“It’s working,” Max said. “They don’t even know we’re here.”
“Careful, Max!” 99 warned.
“Don’t worry about me, 99. I have the lightest step of any agent in Control. When I was in basic training I was known as twinkle-toes. I remember-”
There was a sudden piercing screech!
“Max! You stepped on an ant!”
“That’s impossible. I-”
Max was suddenly tossed high in the air. Looking down, he saw that the veldt was now crawling with enormous African elephants.
“Max!” 99 shrieked. “It was a trick!”
Max landed with a thud.
“The ants were an illusion, Max!” 99 said. “They’re really elephants!”
“Yes,” Max said, rising. “The old ants-disguised-as-elephants trick.”
“I think we better run,” Hassan said nervously. “The elephants are going to charge.”
The three began running across the veldt. The elephants gave chase, trumpeting wildly.
“Head for the jungle!” Max called from his position in the lead.
“Max, it’s too far! We’ll never make it!” 99 cried.
“The elephants are gaining!” Hassan shouted.
“This calls for strategy,” Max said. “Does anyone have a peanut we could throw them?”
“Not me, Max.”
“Wouldn’t you know it?” Hassan said woefully. “A half-dozen chain-driven saxophones-each one the only one of its kind-but not a single peanut.”
“In that case, we’ll have to switch strategies,” Max said. “This calls, I think, for breaking the record for the long distance run.”
“Max. . the elephants are gaining!”
“They’re just trying to help us break that record, 99.”
There was a ringing sound.
“Somebody get the doorbell,” Hassan said.
“No, I suspect that’s another wrong number,” Max said.
Hopping on one foot, Max removed his shoe, then continued running, while putting the shoe to his ear.
Max: Smart, here. And if you’re calling for Hazel, I already gave her your message.
Chief: Max, what the devil are you talking about?
Max: Oh. . sorry, Chief. I thought you were Fred. Chief, could you call back a little later? I’m in a bit of a spot right now. 99 and I and our guide, Hassan, are being pursued across a veldt by a herd of ants.
Operator: You wouldn’t catch Arnold running from an ant.
Max: Ants twelve feet tall? Ants with tranks and tusks?
Chief: Max, you’re describing elephants.
Operator: What did I tell you, Chief! Max just can’t cut the mustard any more. He doesn’t know an ant from an elephant. You wouldn’t catch Arnold making a mistake like that. Give him that question on the examination, Chief. Ask him the difference between an ant and an elephant. He gets that question every time.
Chief: Operator, your brother-in-law, Arnold, hasn’t even showed up yet.
Max: Chief. . Operator. . do you mind? I’m being chased by a herd of elephants. Can’t we discuss this later?
Operator: Why do you hate Arnold, Max?
Max: I don’t hate Arnold, Operator. I just happen to have something more important to do right now.
Operator: If you don’t hate him, why do you get nudgy every time I mention his name?
Max: Believe me, Operator, I do not hate Arnold.
Operator: Then will you do him a little favor?
Max: Yes, yes, what is it?
Operator: Let the elephants trample you, Max.
Max hung up. Hopping on one foot again, he put his shoe back on.
“Max. .” 99 panted. “I can’t go on. . I’m too weak. .”
“99, just keep going for another few minutes. Look-there at the edge of the jungle! A native! He’s motioning to us. If we can just reach that native we’ll be safe!”
“Max. . I. .”
99 stumbled and fell to the ground.
Quickly, Max helped her to her feet. They raced on. But the elephants were only a few yards behind them now, and gaining.
“Max. . do something. .”
“I don’t have a weapon, 99. What can I do?”
“I don’t know. . but. . oh, Max, I can’t run another step!”
“Hold on, 99! I’ll try this capsule of plastic spray.”
“Max. . I’m falling!”
Max scooped 99 up into his arms, and, carrying her, ran on.
The elephants were only a few feet behind them, trumpeting triumphantly.
“Max! The spray!”
“I can’t, 99! I have my hands full!”
“Then give me the capsule!”
“I can’t, 99. It’s in my hand, and my hand is full of you. If I open my hand to give you the capsule, I’ll drop you. And, anyway, 99, it’s too late.”
“What do you mean, Max?”
“My legs won’t run any more, 99. I’m fallllllling!”
Max and 99 hit the ground together. They landed on top of the capsule. The capsule shot a spray of plastic behind them. The plastic spread out over the ground, and instantly hardened, stopping the elephants in their tracks, fixing them solid. Then, abruptly, the elephants vanished.
“Max! It was an illusion!” 99 groaned. “There weren’t any elephants!”
“And a good thing, too,” Max said, rising. “We’d have had a devil of a time prying those elephants loose from that plastic.”
“Why would we want to do a thing like that, Max?”
“99, we couldn’t have left them there like that. That would be a terrible thing to do. They’d never forgive us. Elephants have long memories, you know.”
Hassan tugged at Max’s sleeve. “That native,” he said, pointing. “He is approaching. Perhaps we had better start running again.”
Max peered at the native, who was dressed in a costume of brightly-colored feathers.
“He looks friendly enough to me,” Max said.
“We better not take a chance,” Hassan said. “This is cannibal territory.”
“Nonsense,” Max said. “He’s smiling.”
“Smiling? I think he is licking his lips,” Hassan murmured.
The native reached them, and stood grinning at them.
Max raised a hand as a sign of friendship. “Me bwana Max Smart, Agent 86,” he said. He indicated 99 and Hassan. “And this is bwana Agent 99 and bwana Hassan Pfeiffer. We travel many suns through jungle. We no catchum food, no catchum water. You show us place catchum food, catchum water, we pay you plenty big wampum-chain-driven saxophone, only one of kind.”
“Crazy, dad,” the native replied, grinning even more broadly. “You’re just in time for the cooky break. Come on back to the castle with me, man-you and your chick and your sideman-and we’ll put on the feedbag.”
Max turned to 99 and Hassan. “It’s just no use,” he said. “We can’t communicate.”
“No, Max, I think I understood him,” 99 said. “He says it’s time for lunch. And he’s inviting us to his home, or his village, or someplace, to eat with him.”
“Amazing!” Max said. “I didn’t know you spoke Native, 99.”
“I don’t, Max. He’s speaking a kind of English.”
“Yeh, dad,” the native said to Max. “I matriculated in the States.”
“There he goes again,” Max said. “Pure gibberish.”
“He means he went to school in the United States, Max,” 99 translated.
“Oh, really?” Max said, facing the native again. “I don’t recognize the jargon. Where in the States did you go to school?”
“Boston, dad. Funny you don’t catchum the accent.”
“Please,” 99 said to the native, “could you take us to your whatever-it-is, now? I’m starved.”
“Fall in, chick,” the native replied. “We’ll double-time it.”
“Now that you mention it, there is an accent there,” Max said.
The native led the way, and, trotting, the four of them followed a trail that took them quickly through the jungle. A few minutes later they came to a native village, a clearing that was surrounded by a circle of grass huts. The native escorted them into the center of the clearing. Immediately, other natives poured from the huts and gathered around them, cheering happily and shouting greetings.
“I guess they’ve never seen a secret agent before,” Max said.
“No, that’s not it,” their friend told them. “That cheering is for me, not you.”
“Is that a fact?” Max said. “What have you done?”
“I’ve returned successfully,” their friend replied.
“Oh. Out on a mission, were you?”
“Yes. I was out shopping for lunch.”
“Really? Well, what did you bring back?”
“You,” their friend grinned. “You’re lunch.”
“Max! They’re cannibals!” 99 shrieked.
Max smiled smugly. “Nothing to worry about, 99.”
“But, Max! Didn’t you hear what he said? They’re going to have us for lunch!”
“99, this is simply another illusion. There are no natives here. There is no village. None of this exists. Whitestone is trying to play another trick on us. He thinks we’ll panic and bolt and hightail it back to Pahzayk. Just keep your wits about you, 99. This will all be over in a moment.”
“I hope you’re right, Max.”
“99, have I ever been-”
At that moment, their friend signalled to a foursome of native men and they jumped Max and 99 and Hassan and dragged them off toward a hut.
“Max! Is it still an illusion?” 99 cried.
“99, everybody makes mistakes,” Max replied. “Nobody’s perfect, you know.”
The natives wrestled them into the hut, shoved them to the floor, then bound them hand and foot. After the natives had gone, their friend entered the hut.
“You’re making a big mistake!” Max told him. “This young lady and I are American citizens. Wait’ll the American Ambassador hears about this!”
“Oh, I’m sure we’ll get a message from him, dad,” their friend smiled. “He always sends us a thank-you note.”
“A thank-you note?” Max said incredulously.
“Yeh, man. Why not? We always send him a drumstick.”
Max sighed. “Well, if we have to go,” he said to 99 and Hassan, “I guess this is the way to do it. At least, we’ll know we died for a good cause.”
“What cause, Max, for heaven’s sake?” 99 said.
“To feed the hungry.”
Just then, another native entered the hut. He, too, was dressed in colorful feathers. But he was also wearing a high, white chef’s hat.
“This is Pierre,” their friend said to Max, 99 and Hassan. “He’s in charge of the pot.”
“Hi, victims,” Pierre grinned. “What’s cookin’?”
“I suppose you matriculated in Boston, too,” Max said.
“In Paris, dad,” Pierre replied. “Funny you didn’t catchum the accent.” He bent down and pinched Max on the arm. “Tender,” he enthused. “A little gristle around the muscle-but it’ll boil down.” Next, he pinched 99’s arm. “Ooooo-la-la!” he said, “five minutes over the fire, and this one’ll just melt in your mouth.”
“Why, thank you,” 99 blushed.
“99, don’t let them brainwash you,” Max warned. “Think tough.”
Pierre pinched Hassan, and made a disagreeable face. “This one goes out with the garbage,” he said. “One bite out of him and a man wouldn’t have a tooth left in his head.”
Their friend untied Hassan and shoved him rudely out the door.
“You just made your first mistake,” Max said. “It so happens that that fellow you just let go is a four-star general in the New Ghirzy Army. And in about five minutes he will be back here with a troop of New Ghirzy Marines. So, if you know what’s good for yourselves, you’ll untie us, too, then light out for the hills.”
Their friend laughed. “A general? That little dishrag? He wouldn’t have brains enough to come in out of a bombardment.”
Max eyed him narrowly. “Would you believe, then, that he’s a captain in the Pahzayk police force, and that in five minutes he’ll be back here with a squad of foot patrolmen?”
Their friend shook his head. “Believability-wise, dad, it’s nowhere,” he said.
“Then would you believe that he’s the doorman at the Pahzayk Hilton and that in five minutes he’ll be back with a gaggle of chambermaids?”
“I can only say I hope so,” their friend replied. “As it stands, man, we got nothing for dessert. Chambermaid a la mode would hit the spot.”
“It’s no use, Max,” 99 wept. “Our goose is cooked.”
“That may be so, 99,” Max replied. “But I think there must be some better way of putting it.”
“Talk, talk, talk,” Pierre complained. “I just wish that once I’d get a roast that would keep it’s mouth shut.” He turned to Max’s and 99’s Mend. “Okay, let’s put them in the pot.”
Their friend untied the ropes at their feet, then helped them up. When they were upright, he steered them out of the hut. A large iron pot had been placed in the center of the clearing. Natives were piling wood around it.
“Oh, Max!” 99 wailed. “That pot is for us.”
“Courage, 99. Maybe nobody will have a match.”
When they reached the pot they saw that it was full of water.
“Last one in has to hold the vegetables,” Pierre said.
“You mean you want us to get into that pot, clothes and all?” Max said.
“What else?” Pierre replied. “All the vitamins are in the clothes.”
“And suppose we refuse?” Max said.
Their friend picked up Max and popped him into the pot. And Pierre picked up 99 and put her in beside him.
“I guess that answers my question,” Max said.
Another native joined the party. He was carrying a suitcase, which he placed on the ground, then opened. The suitcase was filled with miniature apothecary jars that contained herbs and spices.
“Sit down in the pot,” Pierre commanded Max and 99. “You don’t want to come out underdone on your top end, do you?”
“I’ll stand, if it’s all the same to you,” Max said.
Pierre pushed him down into the water. “What kind of a stew are you? Don’t you have any pride?” He reached down to the open suitcase and got a salt shaker and a pepper shaker, then salted and peppered Max and 99 thoroughly. After that, he shook some cloves out of a jar into his hand, and held out his hand to them. “Stuff these in your ears,” he said.
“Now, just a darn minute!” Max said testily. “I happen to know a little bit about cooking myself, and cloves in the ears just isn’t done!”
Pierre offered the cloves again. “How about between the toes?”
“Never!” Max said indignantly. “But I’ll tell you what I’ll do. I’ll-”
He was unable to complete the suggestion. The village was suddenly pervaded by a terrible odor. The natives grasped their throats, choking. Panic seized them; they scattered, running into the jungle.
“Max! It’s horrible!” 99 cried, her eyes watering.
“Quick, 99! Dive under the water! And hold your nose!”
Max and 99 ducked beneath the surface. They remained submerged until they could no longer hold their breath. Then, gasping for air, they raised their heads above the water.
“It’s wave naw, wine-wine,” Max said.
“I can’t understand you, Max,” 99 said. “You’re still holding your nose.”
“Oh. I said, it’s safe now, 99.”
“Max, what was that odor?” 99 said. “It was terrible!”
“Elementary, my dear 99,” Max replied. “That terrible odor that panicked the natives of this village was the same terrible odor that, a few weeks ago, panicked the natives of that small village in England. Do you realize what that means, 99? It means that Dr. Livingstrom is somewhere in the vicinity. It was an ill wind that carried that odor to us.”
“Max, it saved our lives. The natives all ran away.”
“Well, it was a nice ill wind.”
“Where is the odor now, Max?”
“Obviously, the wind has shifted. The odor has gone back to where it came from.”
“Oh, Max, if we only knew where!”
“We’ll find it, 99.”
“How, Max?”
“By using the oldest tracking method in the book, 99,” Max replied confidently. “We’ll just follow our noses.”