When they went to the village, at 1500, they had trouble getting
their lorry down. A couple of Marines in a jeep had to go in first
to get the crowd out of the way. Several of the locals, including
the one with the staff, joined with them; this quick co-operation
delighted Meillard. When they had the lorry down and were all out
of it, the dignitary with the staff, his scarlet tablecloth over
his yellow robe, began an oration, apparently with every confidence
that he was being understood. In spite of his objections at lunch,
the telepathy theory was beginning to seem more persuasive.
"Give them the Shooting of Dan McJabberwock again," he told
Meillard. "This is where we came in yesterday."
Something Meillard had noticed was exciting him. "Wait a moment.
They're going to do something."
They were indeed. The one with the staff and three of his henchmen
advanced. The staff bearer touched himself on the brow. "_Fwoonk_,"
he said. Then he pointed to Meillard. "_Hoonkle_," he said.
"They got it!" Lillian was hugging herself joyfully.
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