“You’ll thank me?” piped Baneen, skipping sideways a few steps before Mr. Sheperton’s nose, dancelike on the curled toes of his boots. “Thank me, will you, now? And if I’m not to interfere, what is it yourself is doing?”
“I’m one of the family,” growled Mr. Sheperton. “All the difference in the world.”
“Ah, indeed? Indeed? And does that give you the right to keep the boy from even considering all the fine help I could be offering?” Rolf’s eyes opened wider at this. “Why, a touch, merely a touch of gremlin magic, and he’ll find the answer to all his problems and dreams at once. All that in return for just a wee bit of help, hardly the liftin’ of his littlest finger…”
Mr. Sheperton growled and got to all four legs. Baneen leaped backwards a half step and then started to rise right off the ground. But they were both frozen in their places by a sudden roaring voice:
“BANEEN! AND WHAT ARE YOU UP TO NOW, ME SLIPPERY LITTLE MAN?” Another gremlin stepped from behind a bush. “What’s going on here?” he demanded “And who are you, dog?”
“Sheperton. Mr. Sheperton,” replied Shep, coldly.
Baneen glided back to the ground and touched down lightly. “Ah there, Lugh, darling,” Baneen said, keeping one eye on Shep. “Sure and all, the grim beast would have killed me five times over if it’d not been for your mighty self coming to my rescue…”
“Rescue is it? That depends on what it is that you’ve been up to,” snapped the second gremlin. “Now answer me quick, or I’ll be putting you under a spell in a damp cellar for five thousand years—and well, you know I can do it! That or anything else I’ve a mind to!”
Lying there watching them, Rolf believed the newcomer wholeheartedly. There was something about this gremlin named Lugh that was extremely convincing, although at the same time it was puzzling. Because in an odd way, Lugh seemed to be many times larger and more threatening than he actually was. Rolf squinted at him, wondering if the fall from his bike hadn’t done something to his head, after all.
Plainly to view, Lugh was another gremlin like Baneen. Well, not exactly like Baneen. Lugh was half again as tall, wide-shouldered and burly. But it wasn’t this alone that made him so impressive—and he was impressive indeed.
Somehow, although Rolf’s eyes insisted that Lugh was no more than a foot and a half tall, some inner sense saw it differently. Lugh somehow gave the impression of being the size of a professional football player, massive, heavy-jawed, hard-fisted and more than a match for anything on two legs or four.
“Did you hear me, little man?” roared Lugh now, waving a fist under Baneen’s nose. “Speak up, or it’s down with you to the toads and mushrooms for five thousand years!”
“Whush now,” said Baneen, with a slight quaver in his voice. “It’s a terrible temper you have, indeed it is. And me only trying to do a bit of good for man, gremlin and beast alike. Ah, the hard misunderstandings that have been the lot of my life! The misunderstandings of those for whom I wished to do the poor best that I could…”
“Talk!” said Lugh fiercely.
“And aren’t I, after doing that very thing, this moment?” Baneen said quickly. “As my tongue was just now saying, here was I in talk with Mr. Sheperton…”
“Mr. Sheperton?” Lugh blinked, then turned to look at the dog. “Oh yes—Sheperton.”
“Mr. Sheperton, if you don’t mind!” Shep growled dangerously.
“Now, now, let’s not be having a misunderstanding,” said Baneen hastily, stepping between the sheepdog and Lugh. “Mr. Sheperton it is, indeed—so named by the family of the lad when they brought him home as a wee pup, nearly six long years ago.”
Rolf blinked. Slowly, out of far back in his mind, swam up a memory of the day when his father had brought the dog into their house. It was true—the first name they had given to the fuzzy, wobbly-legged puppy stumbling over the kitchen floor had been “Mr. Sheperton.” The name had been given because there was something pompous about the plump waddling puppy, even then. Of course, the original name was soon forgotten and shortened to “Shep.”
“—and may I present now,” Baneen was going on, “himself, Lugh of the Long Hand, Prince of all Gremlins on this chill and watery planet of yours, second to none but His Royal Majesty the King of Gremla Itself—long may its bright clouds of dust blow against the sunset.”
Baneen wound up this short speech by blowing his nose sentimentally.
Mr. Sheperton and Lugh grunted ungraciously at each other in acknowledgement of the introduction.
“Prince I am, and don’t you forget it,” said Lugh, shaking his fist once more at Baneen. “If there’s to be any dealings with human beings, I’ll be the one to do them. That’s understood?”
“To be sure, to be sure,” Baneen soothed. “How could you think I’d go and forget such a thing? I was only preparing the matter for your royal attention—it was nothing more than that I had in mind. Why, says I to myself, here’s a boy with troubles that a small touch of gremlin magic can mend, a noble dog to be assisted in his wardship of his—”
“Assisted? Who said I needed assistance?” gruffed Mr. Sheperton.
“No one. No one at all, at all. It was only a figure of speech I was making,” Baneen went on. “And here we are, exiles from the planet of our birth, the beautiful and dry Gremla, longing for a way to get back to its lovely, dusty caves. Why not put it all together, thought I, and with the noble Lugh of the Long Hand—the darling of all Gremla that was—to oversee, sure the end can be nothing but happiness for all concerned.”
“Get to the point, Baneen-og,” rumbled Lugh. “You’re reaching an end to the tether of my patience.”
“There’s no more than a word to be said,” Baneen answered quickly. “Here we are marooned these thousands of years on this watery planet where the best of gremlin magic can lift us no more than a dozen feet into the air. And over there—” Baneen pointed in the direction of LC-39, “—is a fine big rocket about to go all the way to Mars, next door to Gremla so it is, and here is a boy whose father’s work is all with that very rocket—”
A bellow from Lugh stopped him. The large gremlin had glanced at Rolf when he was mentioned by Baneen, and—too late—Rolf had realized that he was lying there propped up on his elbows, his eyes wide open.
“BY THE GREAT CAIRNGORM OF GREMLA ITSELF!” Lugh roared, striding wrathfully toward Rolf and seeming to grow more gigantic with each step. “You’ve sprinkled the lad over with Gremla-dust, Baneen—and that with no permission from anyone, least of all myself! He’s been lying here with his eyes open all this time, seeing and hearing and understanding every word ourselves and the dog have spoken!”
3
“Lugh!” yelped Baneen. “You overgrown, great—”
Lugh spun around to face the smaller gremlin, and Baneen’s tone changed abruptly, sweetly, “—man of wisdom that you are, now. Surely yourself has figured out that the lad must be able to talk with us and see us, if he’s to be the means of aiding our poor friend O’Rigami in his and our time of need.”
Lugh, who looked as if he had just been about to leap at Baneen, settled back, frowning, and stroked his chin whiskers.
“Oh?” he said thoughtfully. “O’Rigami, is it now?”
“Who else, and what else would it be? Ah, I see it’s yourself has it all figured out already. Here we are, out of the goodness of our green gremlin hearts—”