"Hi, Al," Marv's voice broke the stillness. He pushed into view, brushing twigs and leaf mold from his tattered garments.
"I been laying low, waiting for a chanst to duck in and rescue ya and all," he confided. "I guess now's the time, huh, while them little devils is out of sight."
Lafayette handed Marv the second can of food. "Have some lunch," he said. "The little fellows are friends of mine," he went on. "But that doesn't make your rescue efforts any less appreciated."
"Oh." Marv looked crestfallen. "They looked pretty rough and tough," he explained. "And the way they turned the tables and cleaned up on Fred and Lump-Lump and Omar was what ya might say impressive."
"A natural mistake," Lafayette agreed. "But now we have to hurry up and catch up with them. They're my only link to Artesia and Aphasia One."
"Sure, Chief," Marv acceded, finishing his can of food. He looked at the label doubtfully before tossing it aside.
"No littering," Lafayette said severely. "But with the whole kingdom in ruins, I don't suppose it really matters."
"Sure, boss," Marv said complacently. "By the way, I never had peaner butter with olives before." He belched comfortably. "Wondered what it was. Pretty good at that. O' course, hungry as I was, boiled harness woulda tasted good."
Lafayette led the way down the path, expecting to catch sight of the pack-laden Ajax crew at the first bend. But rounding the turn, he saw only more path stretching ahead into deep shade. He accelerated his pace, his feet slipping on the damp soil underfoot. Marv, at his heels, complained.
"Fer crine inta yer homemade soup, Chief, we can't keep up no gallop like this. Take it easy."
Lafayette ignored him, intent on closing the gap. There were puddles in the path now. Through gaps in the foliage pressing close on the tunnellike path, Lafayette caught glimpses of moonlight reflected on water. At the same time, the path underfoot had grown steadily soggier. He splashed on, Marv trailing at a distance.
An hour later, winded, he sat on a stump to wait for Marv to catch up, wheezing and holding his short ribs.
"Cripes, Mine Fewher," Marv complained. "I think I busted sumpin'. I got a side-ache like a mule kicked me. Okay if we rest awhile, bwana?"
"We've lost them, Marv," Lafayette said bleakly. "I was a fool not to follow at once. They probably scattered, now that I think of it, and in this jungle we'll never find a sign of them."
Marv sighed with relief as he flopped down full-length on the soggy path. "In that case, sahib, we can take it easy," he commented and at once began to snore.
O'Leary envied the simple fellow; he closed his eyes, experienced a moment of disorientation, and was back in the big gray room. He heard Frumpkin's angry voice:
"... tell you what to do. I've explained the consequences, you little idiot! If you'd any sense, you'd leap at my generous offer!"
There was a sudden flurry, and Daphne darted past his chair; before he could get to his feet, she was gone. Lafayette dropped back into the padded seat, which suddenly seemed harder than before. He squirmed, failed to find a comfortable position, then realized he was sitting on a rotting stump, his feet cold and wet.
Chapter Seven
Dusk had deepened the gloom of the shaded path to pitch-darkness; Marv awoke, fighting off an imaginary attack by spooks.
"Geeze, Al, am I glad to see.yow!" he cried as soon as he had dispersed his phantom foes. "I dreamed I was back inna Dread Tower, onney I was lost, like. Couldn't find my way out, and these here ghosts was coming at me from all directions; wanted something, but I couldn't figger out what."
"That's all right, Marv," Lafayette soothed the excited fellow. "It was just a dream. I had one, too. But the fix we're in is real. Since we can't expect any help now in getting back to semi-civilization, we have to do something effective at once, before things get any worse."
"Sure, Cap'n," Marv agreed absently. "Onney if we go back the way we come, we'll run into old Froddie; and if we keep going, we'll be into quicksand and stuff pretty soon. We're in the swamp, you know."
"I'm going to have to try the old psychical energies again, I guess," O'Leary said grimly. "This time it has to work, because I'm all out of alternatives. Just be quiet for a moment while I concentrate. And I thought the path skirted the swamp."
At first Lafayette concentrated on his luxurious palace suite in Artesia, vividly envisioning the marble floors, the view of the gardens from the wide windows, the closet with his hundred-odd elegant costumes, the big, wide bed ...
His thoughts strayed to Daphne—dear, brave, loyal, delightful little Daphne. Where was she now, poor kid? Lost in some dismal swamp like this, or maybe dying of thirst in a desert in some locus where the swamp had drained? Or was she really hanging around in the spooky gray room he kept having visions of, waiting on Frumpy? Impossible, he decided. Loyal little Daphne would never consent to be anybody's handmaiden.
Lafayette pulled himself together. "Concentrate," Professor Schimmerkopf had urged—and he had done it before, so he could do it again. The suppressor that Central had once focused on him had long since been lifted. He remembered the time in the jail-cell back at Colby Corners when he had accidently shifted back there, under stress—but he had gotten back to Artesia by concentrating all his psychical energies.
The grayness closed in, and Daphne was standing a few feet away in front of the big chair where Frumpkin lolled at ease.
"This nonsense has gone on long enough," the Man in Black was saying. "And I've decided—" He got to his feet and paused, looking puzzled. Then he turned to face O'Leary squarely, and at once showed his teeth in a snarl of rage.
"Look here, you!" he muttered, then coughed, as if attempting to conceal the byplay from Daphne, who was looking at him wonderingly.
"You've lied to me!" she said as sharply as that dulcet voice could sound. "And that means you're not quite as self-confident as you seem. Good-bye!" She turned and had gone two steps when a pair of armed bruisers appeared and seized her arms. Lafayette jumped to her assistance and met an invisible cushion which bounced him back, while Frumpkin's eyes seemed to burn into him like laser beams.
"Hey, Al, look out!" Marv yelled as he jumped up and splashed for cover. A beam of brilliant white light lanced out from above, whence also emanated a sudden din resembling a rock truck on a steep grade, afflicted with the grandfather of all slapping fan-belts. A miniature whirlwind whipped the treetops, then swirled muddy leaf mold and other vegetable debris into Lafayette's face.
"It's only a chopper, Marv," Lafayette called, but his nervous ally was gone.
"You down there," a PA-amplified voice boomed out. "Stand fast! I got authorization to shoot." The rattle of a machine gun sounded, emphasizing the point by making confetti of a swatch of foliage and churning mud into froth only a few feet distant from the tree trunk behind which Lafayette had groped his way. Moments later, a man in a bundlesome combat suit, helmeted and goggled, appeared in midair, climbing down a flexible-link ladder. He dropped the last few feet and swiveled smartly to cover O'Leary's tree with a weapon of discouragingly effective appearance. Clearing his eyes of debris at last, Lafayette blinked, but the commando failed to disappear.
"Don't shoot, I'm harmless," O'Leary croaked, emerging. The armed man reslung his automatic weapon and drew a bulky revolver.
"Take it easy, chum," he said in a hard voice. "I'm Sergeant Dubose, state cops. I'm going to put the cuffs on you and then we're going for a little ride. Come over this way nice and slow."