Kanza the Martian croaker, was bending over me when I woke up. His
little brown face was crinkled with laughter. He'd lost most of his
teeth, and he gummed _thak_-weed. It smelt.
"You pretty, Mis' Jig," he giggled. "You funny like hell."
He slapped some cold greasy stuff on my face. It hurt. I cursed him and
said, "Where's Shannon? How is he?"
"Mis' Bucky okay. You save life. You big hero, Mis' Jig. Mis' Gow come
nickuhtime get snakes. You hero. Haw! You funny like hell!"
I said, "Yeah," and pushed him away and got up. I almost fell down
a couple of times, but presently I made it to the mirror over the
washstand--I was in my own cell--and I saw what Kanza meant. The damned
snakes had done a good job. I looked like I was upholstered in Scotch
plaid. I felt sick.
Bucky Shannon opened the door. He looked white and grim, and there was
a big burn across his neck. He said:
"Beamish is here with his lawyer."