The hostess was saying in a clear elocutionary voice: "We are about to land at Springfield, Missouri. Passengers for Springfield will kindly secure their belongings. All passengers will fasten their safety belts."
"Go on," said Grogan.
"Well," said Frybush, "it took a lot longer than the aurochs, because that inheritance is harder to find among human beings, and because a generation among men is several times as long as among cattle. However, they succeeded finally; Huebner's great-grandson was in charge of the project when it closed. So that's how we have a reservation in Spain with Neanderthal men, one in Oklahoma with Gigantanthropus, et cetera."
"What do these ape-men do?"
Frybush shrugged. "A little simple farming, which is about all most of them can be taught."
Grogan looked at his watch. "Like to make a little bet as to whether we touch before or after the scheduled time? Say a hundred bucks?"
"Ow! Then I would be sick!"
A week later, Oliver Grogan looked up Professor Frybush in his hotel in Mushogee and said: "Say, Doc, how about taking me out to see those ape-men like you offered?"
"Sure thing. How'd you make out with your football players?"
"Lousy. Didn't sign up a one. The hillbillies ain't what they used to be."
At the entrance to the reservation, the professor signed Grogan in. The little man, his bald head glistening with sweat, had been getting more and more nervous during the ride, and he was not reassured by the sight of a couple of large rifles in the gatekeeper's house.
"How far are these gi ... gigantanths?" he asked.
"There's one village half a mile down the road. Easy walk."
"You mean we gotta walk?"
"Sure. They don't permit cars."
"Don't they send a ranger or somebody along?"
"Not with us. They know me, you see."
Grogan had to puff to keep up with the professor, who had suddenly turned into much more of an athlete than he looked.
After a five-minute walk, he suddenly hung back. "What's that?"
"That" was a strange, faint vocal sound, a rumble like a lion warming up for his evening roar.
"Just one of the boys," said Frybush; and after a while: "Here are some of them now."
The grass had been cut over an area of about an acre in a little hollow, and about this area were five great hairy creatures, four male and a female. Two of the males and a female lay on their backs and snoozed, while the remaining two males played catch.
Grogan did not realize how big they were until he got close and had to look up at their faces. They were about nine feet tall, more massively built than ordinary men, and showed the brutish, protruding faces and stooped posture of the ape-men in books on evolution. Grogan realized with a sick feeling that the ball they were throwing and catching with one hand was a medicine ball.
"Hey, George!" called the professor.
The nearest ape-man looked around, grinned gruesomely, and shambled over.
"George," continued Frybush, "I want you to meet my friend Mr. Grogan. George Ethelbert, assistant chief of the northern tribe."
Grogan mistrustfully put his hand in the monster's. It was like shaking hands with a three-year-old baby in reverse. Grogan, grinning a little foolishly, said:
"Me come from Chicago. Fly in big bird. You got-um nice place."
The ape-man wrinkled his low forehead. "What's the matter, mister?" he rumbled. "You a foreigner or somepin?"
"Why I ... I didn't know you guys spoke good English," said Grogan. "I guess you like this better than all those mammoths and things, huh?"
"Huh?" said George Ethelbert, turning to Frybush. "Prof, what's wrong with this guy? I never seen a mammoth in my life, except a picture in a book once."
"Excuse me, excuse me," said Grogan. "I thought ... well, you know, different, like those things that lived — Oh, skip it. You do the talking, Professor."
Frybush said: "How about showing us around, George?"
"How about letting me off and having Zella do it for once?" said Ethelbert. "I'm having a good little game here."
"Okay."
"Zella!" roared Ethelbert
When the female kept on snoring like a thunderstorm, he wound up and threw his medicine ball, which bounced off her ribs with a sound like hitting a bass drum.
"Why, you —"howled the female, rolling to her feet. "I'll fix you, you —"and she charged like an angry elephant. Ethelbert sidestepped at the last minute and let her blunder past. She almost trod on the two normal men, and both monsters laughed at the sight of Frybush and Grogan dodging. The female, temper apparently soothed, hit Ethelbert a slap on the back that would have felled a rhinoceros.
"Sure, I'll show these shrimps around, and then I'll put a snake in your bunk to show you how to treat a lady," she said. "Where do you twerps want to go?"
"Professor," said Grogan in a low voice, looking cautiously at the hairy back of Zella trudging through the dust in front of him, "she reminds me of my second wife. I know I made a sap of myself, but I got the idea from what you said that these people would be kind of feeble-minded. They don't sound that way."
"That depends on the individual," said Frybush. 'They're not really pure Gigantanthropus, you know; it would take many more generations to breed out all the human genes. What's more, George is unusually bright for a gigantanth; practically a genius, which makes him about as intelligent as an average human being."
"Hm-m-m." Grogan walked in silence, thinking, while Zella pointed out the huge barn and huge log cabins. The latter moved Grogan to say: "Seems pretty crude, Professor. Wouldn't it be simpler to send houses out from the city by truck? A couple of good workmen could run one up in a day."
Frybush shook his head. "That's been tried, and it nearly ruined the throwbacks. Made 'em lazy, or discouraged 'em from doing anything for themselves. Better to live by their own efforts, even if they're not efficient at it."
Further on, Frybush said: "Look, Mr. Grogan, I've got some educational matters to discuss with Zella. Why don't you wait here? You can sit on that bench, or wander around; you're safe."
"Okay," said Grogan resignedly.
When they had gone, he shuffled about in the sleepy sunshine, the dust of the unpaved street frosting the shine of his shoes. He was getting bored; the place was only a backwoods farm with everything twice natural size, and farms did not appeal to Oliver Grogan. He yawned and stretched out on the hand-hewn bench for a minute of shut-eye while the prof did his business.
He had barely closed his eyes, however, when a voice said: "Hey, you!"
Grogan looked up, then sprang to his feet. Before him stood another of the creatures. From its size and comparative hairlessness, he judged it to be a child of the species. Grogan, who knew little even about human children, guessed its age as about twelve. At any rate, it was almost as tall as he was and much heavier than his 130 pounds.
"Yeah?" he said, backing against the bench and wishing the prof would come back.
"You another shrimp, ain't cha?"
"I suppose so, if that's what you call normal people."
"You come with the professor?"
"Yeah."
"Gimme some chewing gum, will ya?"
"Don't have none."
"Aw come on! All shrimps got chewing gum. Why won't cha give it to me?"
"Lemme alone. I tell you I ain't got none!" Grogan began-to sidle around his tormentor to get room to run.
"Aw come on! Why won't cha? I ast ya nice, didn't I?" The boy caught the sleeve of Grogan's coat.
Grogan jerked his arm, trying to wrench his sleeve loose. When that failed he kicked out in panic and hit something hard.
"Yeow!" bellowed the boy, letting go of Grogan's coat to hop on one leg and hug the injured shin of the other.