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.”