Lummox was not in the reservoir. He had got tired and had gone home. It had been necessary to tear a notch in the reservoir to get out comfortably, but he had damaged it no more than was needful. He did not care to have any arguments with John Thomas over such silly matters-not any more arguments, that is.
Several people made a fuss over his leaving, but he ignored them. He was careful not to step on anybody and their actions he treated with dignified reserve. Even when they turned loose hated spray things on him he did not let them herd him thereby, the way they had herded him out of that big building the day he had gone for a walk; he simply closed his eyes and his rows of nostrils, put his head down and slogged for home.
John Thomas met him on the way, having been fetched by the somewhat hysterical chief of safety.
Lummox stopped and made a saddle for John Thomas, after mutual greetings and reassurances, then resumed his steady march homeward.
Chief Dreiserwas almost incoherent. “Turn that brute around and head him back!” he screamed.
“You do it,” Johnnie advised grimly.
“I’ll have your hide for this! I’ll-I’ll-”
“What have I done?”
“You-It’s what you haven’t done. That beast broke out and-”
“I wasn’t even there,” John Thomas pointed out while Lummox continued plodding.
“Yes, but. . . That’s got nothing to do with it! He’s out now; it’s up to you to assist the law and get him penned up again. John Stuart, you’re getting in serious trouble.”
“I don’t see how you figure. You took him away from me. You got him condemned and you say he doesn’t belong to me anylonger. You tried to kill him. . . you know you did, without waiting to see if the government would okay it. If he belongs to me, I ought to sue you. If he doesn’t belong to me, it’s no skin off my nose if Lummox climbs out of that silly tank.” John Thomas leaned over and looked down. “Why don’t you climb into your car, Chief, instead of running along beside us and getting yourself winded?”
Chief Dreiser ungraciously accepted the advice and let his driver pick him up. By the time this was done he had somewhat recovered his balance. He leaned out and said, “John Stuart, I won’t bandy words with you. What I have or have not done hasn’t anything to do with the case. Citizens are required to assist peace officers when necessary. I am demanding officially-and I’ve got this car’s recorder going while I ask it-that you assist me in returning that beast to the reservoir.”
John Thomas looked innocent. “Then can I go home?”
“Huh? Of course.”
“Thanks, Chief. Uh, how long do you figure he will stay in the reservoir after I put him in it and go home? Or were you planning on hiring me in as a permanent member of your police force?”
Chief Dreiser gave up; Lummox went home.
Nevertheless Dreiser regarded it as only a temporary setback; the stubbornness that made him a good police officer did not desert him. He admitted to himself that the public was probably safer with the beast penned up at home while he figured out a surefire way to kill him. The order from the Under Secretary for Spatial Affairs, permitting him to destroy Lummox arrived and that made Dreiser feel better.. . old Judge O’Farrell had been pretty sarcastic about his jumping the gun.
The cancellation of that order and the amended order postponing Lummox’s death indefinitely never reached him. A new clerk in the communications office of DepSpace made a slight error, simply a transposition of two symbols; the cancellation went to Pluto. . . and the amended order, being keyed to the cancellation, followed it.
So Dreiser sat in his office with the death order clutched in his hand and thought about ways to kill the beast Electrocution? Maybe. . . but he could not even guess at how much of a jolt it would take to do it. Cut his throat like butchering a hog? The Chief had serious doubts about what sort of knife to use and what the brute would be doing in the meantime.