Here is Adventure and Danger.
Mud-fishers, and a girl,—and a
quasi-human looking for trouble.
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Comet May 41.
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
Lonny Higgens, once of the earthly planet, stretched out in theconning-tower of his mud-submarine, an aquatic monstrosity of globularreinforced steel that was at home either above or below the surface ofthe squirming mud seas of Uranus, and sighed lazily.
"Blast it!" he moaned sleepily and almost regretfully. "There'ssomething about this planet that makes you have spring fever the yearround, and it gets worse and worse! Lonny Higgens, you're a lazy,nogood fool!—and you'll never get around to the things you used todream about."
The circular hatch was open over his head, showing a patch of blackswirling mists through which dark midges maneuvered in tiny swarms.Just as he was dozing comfortably, forgetful of the humming insectson the outside and the occasional flopping sounds made by things thatsquirmed in the muddy ocean, something dropped from the mist, fallingplunk on his forehead. He jerked sidewise, just as another pelletof balled mud struck him on the end of his nose. He glimpsed a tinyvisage, half insect and quasi-human, peering over the hatch rim for aninstant.
"Baron Munchy!" exclaimed Lonny irritably, recognizing this curiousspecimen of Uranusian life. "Cut that out, or I'll wring your littleneck. I haven't got time for any of your monkey-shines."
A winged thing soared down from the mists, landing on the chair besidehis couch, and "Baron Munchy", like a dragon-fly come to mysterioushumanlike life, folded his transparent wings back like a cloak andpaced back and forth.
"Me mad! Me plent' mad," rasped Baron Munchy, who produced his tones bya vibration of his wings.
"Ah, beat it," snorted Lonny, turning his head away. The small beinghad brought with him the dank, stagnant aroma of the outer swamps, andthat reminded him of untended netlines hanging in the mud. He was boredwith Baron Munchy and his endless lying and conniving. When he hadfirst come to Uranus, two years before, the little rascal had showed upon the landing deck, more dead than alive from a terrific beating atthe hands of several of his fellows. Baron Munchy was a born fighter.He survived under the ministrations of the lonely terrestrial and hadbecome attached to the mud-submarine. But he dearly loved to stirup trouble, and nothing pleased the little demon more than to shoutinsults at mud-monkeys until they fought among themselves. "Go way. I'mtired of listening to your silly chatter."
"Me mad as heck!" cried Baron Munchy, sitting down on the edge of thechair like a tiny mannikin and doubling his tiny fists beneath hischitinous chin. "That man say the Boss no good. He say the Boss one bigblonde devil. He say—"
"Shut up," protested Lonny. "Raeburn's all right. He's just amud-fisher like me, and has got to get along. It's natural that hedoesn't like a rival, and I'm not a bit riled by your chatter."
He was presently snoring and Baron Munchy looked across the spacethrough squinting, calculating eyes. For a moment the mischievousglitter in his faceted eyes became dulled, and then he soared acrossthe bed and sat astride Lonny's neck, using the adam's apple for asaddle. Lonny roused with a start and gulped. The small insectlikevisage was thrust grimly down to the end of his nose, and a tiny fingerwas raised emphatically.
"He say he knock the holy feather from you, Boss," he chirped grimly."He say you fish for pearls in mud that