lion answered. "That's like my job, man, like taking good care of you ... or at least, like trying to. if I'd of left here and a real lion or a bear or something had got you, that weird grey cat would of seen to it. I stayed in this lion getup like forever."
"Thank you for your entirely unselfish solicitude for my safety and well-being, Cool Blue," beamed Fitz sarcastically.
The sarcasm was completely missed by the blue lion. "Aw, hell, man, it's no need to like thank me; like I said, it's my job, man. You gonna shoot us some antelopes now? Just three, four'U last me most of the day . . . and maybe that dumb Norman dude in the steel T-shirt'll be back by then."
As he began to dress, Fitz beamed, "No, Cool Blue, I am not. Since you saw fit to purloin my planned breakfast, I'll eat out of my supplies this morning. That done, I am gong to crest this hill, go down into the glen just north of us and start hiking west.
"You, because with your lion nose you can trail by scent, are going to set off after Sir Gautier. Once you find him, you'll bring him back to this cache long enough for him to take this pack that will be waiting here for him, then you and he and any of his men he could locate are going to set off on my trail at top speed. I'll be moving as slowly as I can and blazing trees at intervals along my path. Understand?"
"Man," exclaimed the baby-blue Hon, "you've like flipped your everlovin' wig! You know that? You go around like setting trees on fire, you gonna burn down the whole, fucking woods!"
Fitz sighed. Yet another failure to adequately com-
* 99
municate with the hipster-trumpeter become lion. He asked, "Were you ever in the Boy Scouts, back in the world you came here from, Cool Blue?"
"Aw, hell no, man," was the reply, "f m like a city dude, man. I like concrete under my feet and flush toilets and showers and all and I have since I was like a little kid, too. I lived in a fucking leaky tent in the stinking mud and slush and snow and all and froze my balls like almost off crapping in a hole in the ground long-side of the bush-niggers in the Army in Korea cause the fucking Government gimme like no damn choice. But even before then, when I was just a little kid, I wouldn't of like lived like that could I of helped it, and that's the kinds of living the fucking Boy Scouts thinks is the best fucking thing since sliced bread! Like, why, man?"
"Because, Cool Blue," Fitz informed him, while rolling his sleeping bag tightly enough to fit it into its case, "if you had been a scout you would have understood what I said about leaving a well-marked trail to guide you and Sir Gautier when you follow me west. Now, watch."
Taking a machete, he left the rock-overhang and paced across the minuscule clearing to the largest of the nearby trees. With a light, glancing swipe of the sharp blade, he took a strip of bark two inches wide and about six long off the trunk at the level of his chest. A few seconds of whittling at one end of the barked area with the point of the blade gave a reasonable representation of an arrow, its sharp tip pointing uphill.
Turning to the lion, he beamed silently, "That is how you blaze a tree, Cool Blue. Til be doing that
along the way west that I take. All you and Sir Gautier have to do is follow the direction pointed out by the blazes. Okay?"
"But, man," pled the lion, piteously, "I'm like starving! I kept by you all night and now I'm so empty I just like got to have some meat before I can go do anything, you know. What you going to eat?"
Fitz shrugged. "A can of beans, I guess, while I hike; I don't want to take the time to start a fire. I slept longer than I meant to. Why, do you want a can, too?"
"Cold canned beans?" queried the lion, "Oh, God, man, like don't even think gaggy things like that! That's as bad to think about as fucking Yew Ess Army fucking C-Rations is. Like if I wasn't so empty, I'd be like puking my guts out, you know that, man? That's as bad as a gook's been scarfing
"Thank you for your entirely unselfish solicitude for my safety and well-being, Cool Blue," beamed Fitz sarcastically.
The sarcasm was completely missed by the blue lion. "Aw, hell, man, it's no need to like thank me; like I said, it's my job, man. You gonna shoot us some antelopes now? Just three, four'U last me most of the day . . . and maybe that dumb Norman dude in the steel T-shirt'll be back by then."
As he began to dress, Fitz beamed, "No, Cool Blue, I am not. Since you saw fit to purloin my planned breakfast, I'll eat out of my supplies this morning. That done, I am gong to crest this hill, go down into the glen just north of us and start hiking west.
"You, because with your lion nose you can trail by scent, are going to set off after Sir Gautier. Once you find him, you'll bring him back to this cache long enough for him to take this pack that will be waiting here for him, then you and he and any of his men he could locate are going to set off on my trail at top speed. I'll be moving as slowly as I can and blazing trees at intervals along my path. Understand?"
"Man," exclaimed the baby-blue Hon, "you've like flipped your everlovin' wig! You know that? You go around like setting trees on fire, you gonna burn down the whole, fucking woods!"
Fitz sighed. Yet another failure to adequately com-
* 99
municate with the hipster-trumpeter become lion. He asked, "Were you ever in the Boy Scouts, back in the world you came here from, Cool Blue?"
"Aw, hell no, man," was the reply, "f m like a city dude, man. I like concrete under my feet and flush toilets and showers and all and I have since I was like a little kid, too. I lived in a fucking leaky tent in the stinking mud and slush and snow and all and froze my balls like almost off crapping in a hole in the ground long-side of the bush-niggers in the Army in Korea cause the fucking Government gimme like no damn choice. But even before then, when I was just a little kid, I wouldn't of like lived like that could I of helped it, and that's the kinds of living the fucking Boy Scouts thinks is the best fucking thing since sliced bread! Like, why, man?"
"Because, Cool Blue," Fitz informed him, while rolling his sleeping bag tightly enough to fit it into its case, "if you had been a scout you would have understood what I said about leaving a well-marked trail to guide you and Sir Gautier when you follow me west. Now, watch."
Taking a machete, he left the rock-overhang and paced across the minuscule clearing to the largest of the nearby trees. With a light, glancing swipe of the sharp blade, he took a strip of bark two inches wide and about six long off the trunk at the level of his chest. A few seconds of whittling at one end of the barked area with the point of the blade gave a reasonable representation of an arrow, its sharp tip pointing uphill.
Turning to the lion, he beamed silently, "That is how you blaze a tree, Cool Blue. Til be doing that
along the way west that I take. All you and Sir Gautier have to do is follow the direction pointed out by the blazes. Okay?"
"But, man," pled the lion, piteously, "I'm like starving! I kept by you all night and now I'm so empty I just like got to have some meat before I can go do anything, you know. What you going to eat?"
Fitz shrugged. "A can of beans, I guess, while I hike; I don't want to take the time to start a fire. I slept longer than I meant to. Why, do you want a can, too?"
"Cold canned beans?" queried the lion, "Oh, God, man, like don't even think gaggy things like that! That's as bad to think about as fucking Yew Ess Army fucking C-Rations is. Like if I wasn't so empty, I'd be like puking my guts out, you know that, man? That's as bad as a gook's been scarfing
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