The Galaxy Builder by Keith Laumer Page B

now that I think of it, and in this jungle we'll never find a sign
of them."
     
                Marv sighed with relief as he flopped down
full-length on the soggy path. "In that case, sahib, we can take it
easy," he commented and at once began to snore.
     
                O'Leary envied the simple fellow; he closed his
eyes, experienced a moment of disorientation, and was back in the big gray
room. He heard Frumpkin's angry voice:
     
                "... tell you what to do. I've explained
the consequences, you little idiot! If you'd any sense, you'd leap at my
generous offer!"
     
                There was a sudden flurry, and Daphne darted
past his chair; before he could get to his feet, she was gone. Lafayette dropped
back into the padded seat, which suddenly seemed harder than before. He
squirmed, failed to find a comfortable position, then realized he was sitting
on a rotting stump, his feet cold and wet.
     
     

Chapter Seven
     
                Dusk had deepened the gloom of the shaded path
to pitch-darkness; Marv awoke, fighting off an imaginary attack by spooks.
     
                "Geeze, Al, am I glad to see.yow!" he
cried as soon as he had dispersed his phantom foes. "I dreamed I was back
inna Dread Tower, onney I was lost, like. Couldn't find my way out, and these
here ghosts was coming at me from all directions; wanted something, but I
couldn't figger out what."
     
                "That's all right, Marv," Lafayette
soothed the excited fellow. "It was just a dream. I had one, too. But the
fix we're in is real. Since we can't expect any help now in getting back to
semi-civilization, we have to do something effective at once, before things get
any worse."
     
                "Sure, Cap'n," Marv agreed absently.
"Onney if we go back the way we come, we'll run into old Froddie; and if
we keep going, we'll be into quicksand and stuff pretty soon. We're in the
swamp, you know."
     
                "I'm going to have to try the old psychical
energies again, I guess," O'Leary said grimly. "This time it has to
work, because I'm all out of alternatives. Just be quiet for a moment while I
concentrate. And I thought the path skirted the swamp."
     
                At first Lafayette concentrated on his luxurious
palace suite in Artesia, vividly envisioning the marble floors, the view of the
gardens from the wide windows, the closet with his hundred-odd elegant
costumes, the big, wide bed ...
     
                His thoughts strayed to Daphne—dear, brave,
loyal, delightful little Daphne. Where was she now, poor kid? Lost in some
dismal swamp like this, or maybe dying of thirst in a desert in some locus
where the swamp had drained? Or was she really hanging around in the spooky
gray room he kept having visions of, waiting on Frumpy? Impossible, he decided.
Loyal little Daphne would never consent to be anybody's handmaiden.
     
                Lafayette pulled himself together.
"Concentrate," Professor Schimmerkopf had urged—and he had done it
before, so he could do it again. The suppressor that Central had once focused
on him had long since been lifted. He remembered the time in the jail-cell back
at Colby Corners when he had accidently shifted back there, under stress—but he
had gotten back to Artesia by concentrating all his psychical energies.
     
                The grayness closed in, and Daphne was standing
a few feet away in front of the big chair where Frumpkin lolled at ease.
     
                "This nonsense has gone on long
enough," the Man in Black was saying. "And I've decided—" He got
to his feet and paused, looking puzzled. Then he turned to face O'Leary
squarely, and at once showed his teeth in a snarl of rage.
     
                "Look here, you!" he muttered, then
coughed, as if attempting to conceal the byplay from Daphne, who was looking at
him