“Hold it a minute,” Max said. “You can’t leave us. It’s true, we’re not after your gold. But I can’t promise the same about those other fellows. If they happened to run across your vein of gold, they’d pack it up and ship it out of here quicker than you could bat an eyelash.”
“Oh?” the old prospector said. “How come? Aren’t they friends of yours?”
“Hardly. They’re our worst enemies,” Max replied. “We’re Control and they’re KAOS.”
“Like cops and robbers?” the old prospector asked.
“Not exactly,” Max responded. “It’s just not that simple. Nothing is quite that simple any more. You see, we’re all secret agents, both Control and KAOS, but the KAOS secret agents are dedicated to the propagation of evil, while the Control secret agents are dedicated to stamping it out. Although, of course, it’s not always that simple. I mean, every once in a while, we’re forced to fight fire with fire. Or, in other words, sometimes we have to propagate a little evil ourselves in the interests of stamping out the evil that the KAOS secret agents have propagated earlier-if you understand what I mean. Not that I’d blame you if you didn’t. Because nothing is really that simple any more. I mean, looked at from one standpoint, it could be said that in propagating evil to stamp out evil we are tarring ourselves with our own brush, or that we’re trying to put out the fire by dousing it with kerosene, or-”
“Can you just tell me how I can tell the good guys from the bad guys?” the old prospector broke in. “If I just know who I’m for and who I’m against, I don’t need all that fiddle-faddle.”
“Well, I’m afraid it’s just not quite that simple,” Max answered. “There was a time when you could distinguish the good guys from the bad guys by looking at their hats. The bad guys had on black hats and the good guys had on white hats. But things have changed. A lot of people these days don’t wear hats of any color. And, too, bad guys put on white hats, and good guys put on black hats. So, telling a good guy from a bad guy, or, even if you know the difference, really deciding what is essentially good and what is essentially bad is almost- Frankly, it’s so complicated, it’s absolutely impossible to explain. But, I’ll tell you what I do. I have a rule of thumb. I think of it as being like cops and robbers.”
“I don’t see what’s so complicated about that,” the old man said. “Who’re you-cops or robbers?”
“Actually, it’s not as simple-”
“Cops!” 99 shouted.
The old prospector nodded. “Got it. Now,” he asked, “what do I do to get them strangers out of here?”
“They’re not in here,” Max said. “We’re the ones who are in here.”
“Out of town, I mean!” the old prospector said.
“Oh. Well, actually, that’s my job, not yours,” Max said. “You could go wave your arms at them or something, but I doubt that it would get rid of them. Not many people believe in ghosts these days. They’d probably only laugh at you. And then they’d disinfect you.”
“But I got to get them out,” the old prospector said.
“I couldn’t agree with you more,” Max said. “And 99 and I will be happy to do the job for you. Not only will we remove them from your town, but we will lock them up where they will never get out-so you won’t have to worry about them coming back later to look for your lost vein.”
“ ‘Lost vein of gold’ say,” the prospector requested. “When you call it ‘my lost vein’ it sounds kind of personal. Too personal to say in front of a lady.”
“All right-your lost vein of gold.”
“Well, don’t think I’m not obliged,” the old prospector said. “That’s right nice of you. I’ll just disappear now and let you get about it. When you finish up, whistle or something, and I’ll reappear-if I can-and see you off on your trip to wherever it is you’ll be going. In the meantime-”
“Hold it,” Max said. “First, there are a couple things you’ll have to do for us.”
The old prospector nodded knowingly. “Always a catch to it,” he said. “Things haven’t changed so much. What do you want me to do-split my gold with you?”
Max shook his head. “Nothing like that. First, I want you to get us out of here.”
“That might be fixed,” the old prospector said.
“Then, help us find our Coolidge-head penny.”
The old prospector eyed Max narrowly. “Penny, I know,” he said. “Head, I know, too. But what’s a Coolidge?”
“That’s an ex-president. His head is on the coin. He’s wearing an Indian headdress. Feathers.”
“Feathers to you, too, bub.”
“I mean Coolidge is wearing feathers on his head. But, just so you’ll be able to recognize it, it also looks a little like Abraham Lincoln standing on his head. If you have a vivid imagination, that is. The feathers look like his beard.”
“But suppose when I find it I look at it upside-down?” the old prospector said. “Then it won’t look like Lincoln standing on his head. It’ll look like some total stranger right-side-up only with his beard on his head instead of on his chin. How’ll I know it’s not just some ordinary penny like all the others?”
“That’s a problem,” Max admitted. “Tell you what. When you find a penny you’re in doubt about, check with me. I’ll recognize it.”
“All right, that’s agreed,” the old prospector said. “I’ll show you how to get out of here, then I’ll pitch in and help you locate that feather-head penny, and then you’ll wrap them strangers up and haul them out of town and leave me in peace to look for my lost vein of gold.”
“Very neatly put,” Max replied. “Although, actually, these days, nothing is really quite that simple. For in-”
“Max, just say ‘yes!’ ” 99 begged.
“Yes,” Max said to the old prospector. “Now, how do we get out of here?”
Carrying the lamp and followed by the mule and Max and 99, the old prospector moved to the tunnel entrance. He held the lantern high, inspecting the pile of rocks. “Looks like a job for Madame DuBarry,” he said.
“Oh? One of your ghost lady friends?”
“That’s my mule,” the old prospector replied. He faced the mule and addressed it. “See that pile of rocks there in the doorway hole?” he said. “What I want you to do is, I want you to kick them out of the way.”
The mule stared at the rocks for a moment. Then it turned around and with its hind hoofs gave the pile of rocks a vicious kick. The rocks flew in all directions, as if blasted out by an explosion.
“That’s marvelous!” Max said.
“Yup. Too bad I didn’t think of it a hundred-year-or-so ago when I got caught in this tunnel by a rock slide,” the old prospector said. “The idea just come to me a couple days ago. But. . live and learn, they say, eh?”
Max and 99 hurried from the tunnel. A second later, the old prospector and the mule followed them out into the light. Max pointed toward the cluster of buildings. “They’re down there somewhere,” he said. “In the hotel, probably. Or perhaps in the barbershop. Or maybe- But, that’s not important. First, we’ll go to the saloon.”
“I’ll drink to that,” the old prospector said.
“We’ll go to the saloon to find the Coolidge-head penny,” Max explained. “It dropped through a crack in the floor.”
“I got a better idea,” the old prospector said. “First, let’s lock up them strangers and make lost veins of gold safe for cranky old prospectors, like you said you were going to do. After that, we’ll look for the penny.”
Max shook his head. “I need the penny first,” he said. “You see, I’ll rub it. And then the Chief, back in Washington, will get the signal, and he’ll send a squad of Control agents out here, and they’ll surround the hotel or the barbershop or wherever the KAOS agents are holding their meeting, and they’ll take them captive and transport them back to Washington and lock them up. But first I have to- Why are you looking at me that way?”
“You’re going to rub a penny and somebody’s going to hear it in Washington? I know Indians’ve got good hearing. But it’s not that good.”
“What Indians?”
“The Chief, you said.”
“The Chief of Control-not an Indian chief,” Max explained. “And it’s not that he’ll hear me rubbing the coin. It isn’t as simple as that. This is an electronic- No, that won’t mean anything to you, will it? I’ll just have to start at the beginning. Once upon a time, you see, there was a Founding Father named Benjamin Franklin who liked to fly his kite in thunder storms. Well, one day-”