afterwards that Lamorakâs upper left molar started to hurt.
âNow then, letâs see,â said Pertelope. âThereâs ...â He unslung his rucksack and started to go through its contents (three clean shirts, three changes of underwear, a copy of Whatâs On In Sydney with a bookmark stuck in to mark the details of the New Orleans Jazz Festival, a Swiss Army knife with six broken blades, an electric razor, a pair of trousers, a tennis racket, a mouth organ, two flannels, a towel, Germolene, oil of cloves, a packet of plasters, a bottle of dandruff shampoo, entero-vioform tablets, nail scissors, a quantity of ladies clothing ...).
âWhat have you got in your pack, Lammo?â Pertelope enquired. âI seem to be fresh out.â
Lamorak unshipped his head from his hands, said, âNothing,â and put it back.
âOh.â Pertelope frowned and scratched his head. âThatâs awkward,â he added. âI suppose weâll have to look for roots and berries and things.â He looked round at the baked, sterile earth. It had been a very long time since anything had been so foolhardy as to entrust its roots to so hostile an environment.
âPertelope.â
Sir Pertelope looked up. âYes?â he asked.
âThereâs always cannibalism, you know.â
Pertelope blinked. âCannibalism?â he repeated.
âThatâs right,â said his companion calmly. âYou know, eating human flesh. It used to be quite popular at one time.â
Pertelope thought for a moment, and then shook his head.
âI wouldnât dream of it,â he replied firmly. âNot after all weâve been through together. Youâd stick in my throat, so to speak.â
Lamorak stood up. âThatâs all right,â he said quietly. âI quite understand. Now then, if you keep absolutely still it wonât hurt a bit.â
A small cog dropped into place in Pertelopeâs brain. âHold on,â he said. âA jokeâs a joke, but letâs not get silly. I mean, people can get hurt larking about, and...â
Lamorak smiled, and lunged at him with a small stone. Hunger, thirst and toothache had taken quite a lot out of him, but he only missed by inches. He landed in the dust, swore and raised himself painfully from the ground.
âLizards,â Pertelope was saying. âIâm sure thereâre plenty of lizards about, if only we knew what we were supposed to be looking for. Trouble is, the little so-and-sos are masters of camouflage. Would you believe it, thereâs one species of lizard in the New Hebrides...â
He leant sideways, and the haymaking blow Lamorak had aimed at him wasted its force in the dry air.
âShut up about sodding lizards and help me up,â Lamorak growled. âI think Iâve twisted my ankle.â
âItâs your own fault,â Pertelope replied, âlashing out at people with whopping great rocks like that. Anyone would think ...â
Lamorak jumped to his feet, thereby giving the lie to his own earlier statement, and tried a full-length tackle. As his full length was only a little more than five feet, he failed.
âLamorak,â said Pertelope sternly, âyou do realise youâre making a most frightful exhibition of yourself. What would a passing stranger think if he saw you now?â
âDepends,â Lamorak panted in reply. âIf he knew what Iâd had to put up with from you ever since we left Birmingham, Bloody good luck to you, probably.â He hurled the rock, which landed about two feet away, and then sat heavily down.
âReally!â said Pertelope, offended.
Lamorak drew in a deep breath, looked for a moment at his scuffed and bleeding palms, and sighed. âTell you what,â he said. âWeâll make a deal. You take the compass, the map, your rucksack, my rucksack, the whole lot, and Iâll stay here and die in peace.
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