An hour later he sat on his bed and rubbed his aching jaw. He peered
through a puffed eye at Hawthorne beside him. The pilot's blunt face
was all grin.
"So I'm the primitive savage!" Hawthorne doubled in laughter. "You're
the one who acted intelligent like a guinea pig tonight!"
"Laugh, you ape!" O'Dea groaned and moved his jaw tenderly. "Not
broken, I guess. But Morguma sure packs _quintol_ in those cornerstones
he uses for fists. All twelve of them!"
"_Quintol_--that's it." Hawthorne pulled a bottle from under his shirt.
He looked patronizingly at O'Dea. "There's enough _quintol_ here to get
four Centaurs blind drunk!"
"Well, start slopping it up, slop!"
"This bottle," said Hawthorne patiently, "is our dictator's birthday
present to our friend Morguma. The Centaurs will appreciate such a
gesture of friendship!"