William Johnston: Sorry, Chief…

Behind them, the posse took up pursuit.

“Stop! Halt!”

Max, Fang and 99 reached the end of the corridor, turned, and plunged down the stairway.

99 looked back. “Max! They’re gaining!”

“Faster!” Max urged.

“Max, we’re right behind you. Hurry!”

“I’m going as fast as I can. You try leading an escape sometime with a telephone in your shoe!”

“Sorry, Max. I know you’re doing your best.”

The trio, Max still in the lead, raced out onto the deck.

“This way!” Max cried, charging forward.

Behind them, the posse appeared on deck.

“Stop! Halt!”

“I wish they’d find something different to shout,” Max complained. “Stop! Halt! Always the same old thing!”

From behind came the cry, “De-accelerate!”

“Thanks!” Max called back.

“Max-there’s the ballroom!” 99 said. “Maybe we could hide in there.”

“Quick! There’s the ballroom!” Max said. “We’ll try to lose ourselves among the dancers!”

They plunged into the ballroom.

“Grab a partner!” Max commanded.

99 threw herself into the arms of a middle-aged man who, alone, was shaking and shivering from head to toe, wholly absorbed in his own personal version of the watusi.

“Go away!” he grumbled. “I’m dancing!”

“I’m your partner,” 99 said.

“What do I want with a partner-I’m dancing!”

99 joined him, nevertheless, a few feet away.

Meanwhile, Max glided into a waltz with the nearest available soloist. “Haven’t we met before?” he said, peering closely at his partner.

“Rorff!”

“Fang! I didn’t recognize you on your hind legs!”

“Rorff!”

“Sorry about that,” Max said, looking down. “Which toe was it?”

At that moment, the posse charged into the ballroom. It stopped, and the officers began inspecting the dancers, looking for Max, 99 and Fang.

“Cheek-to-cheek, Fang,” Max ordered. “That way, we’ll hide our faces.”

“Rorff!”

“My excuse is that I haven’t had a chance to shave. What’s your excuse?”

“Max!” 99 whispered, watusi-ing up. “They’re coming this way!”

“Drat! I was sure we’d blend in with the other dancers.”

“They’re closing-in, Max!”

“All right-we’ll show them a fancy step I learned from Rex Astaire.”

“Fred Astaire, Max.”

“Rex Astaire. He won the hundred-yard-dash at Muskogee, Oklahoma, High School in 1932.”

“What’s the step, Max?”

“About face! Run for it!”

Max, 99 and Fang took off across the dance floor.

“Halt! Stop!”

“Back in the old rut again,” Max complained.

They dashed from the ballroom, emerged on deck, and raced away. A few seconds later, they made a left turn, entered a stairway, and plunged downward.

“Where to, Max?”

“Down. It’s easier than up.”

Down, down, down, they fled. Past B Deck and all its sub-decks. Past C Deck and all its sub-decks. And still, down, down, down.

“Max-I hear a ringing!”

“My shoe!” Max replied. “It’s the Chief calling!”

“Hadn’t you better answer it, Max?”

“Yes-it might be important.”

Hopping down the steps on one foot, Max removed his shoe.

Max: Agent 86, here. Could you make it short, Chief?

Chief: Max? Is that you, Max? We must have a bad connection. You sound very strange-and far away.

Max: Strange how, Chief?

Chief: As if you were hopping down a flight of stairs.

Max: Actually, Chief, that isn’t so strange. I am hopping.

Chief: Shopping for what, Max? And why are you shopping? You’re supposed to be on a case.

Max: Not shopping, hopping, Chief. You see, a bunch of bad guys are chasing us. Well not bad guys, really. Actually, they’re just a little confused. You see, they think we’re the bad guys. Anyway, they’re chasing us down a flight of stairs. And, in the meantime, we got a call from you.

Chief: Max, this connection is terrible. What did you say? You took a fall on who?

Max: No, Chief-call from you. My shoe rang.

Chief: What orangutang? Stop monkeying around, Max.

Max: No, no, Chief. Shoe. Shoe. Shoe.

Chief: Max, what are you doing on a train? You’re supposed to be on a ship.

Max: Chief, I believe there’s a simple explanation for this. What I feared would happen, has happened. The further out in the ocean we get, the weaker my signal becomes. Do you understand?

Chief: That part is clear, Max. What puzzles me is how you got to Hindustan in the first place. And, now that you’re there, why you’re wasting your time buying lotion.

Max: I don’t think it came in quite as clear as it could have, Chief. Let me try again, (he shouts) We’re too far away!

Chief: Fire away at who, Max? Are you in trouble?

Max: Yes! We’re being chased! And I’m hopping down the steps on one shoe!

Chief: A pair of whose?

Max: Shoe! Shoe, shoe, shoe, shoe, shoe!

Chief: Is that the same train, Max?

Max: Chief, this is getting us nowhere. I’ll call you back later.

Chief: Max, this is getting us nowhere. Why don’t you call me back later?

Max: I will, Chief.

Chief: It’s been a thrill for me, too, Max. So long.

“Max! They’re gaining!” 99 cried, looking back and seeing the posse closing in.

“Just let me… get my shoe… back on,” Max said. “Ah… there now! All right-full speed ahead!”

Max, 99 and Fang plunged on at full speed for another three steps-then came to a dead end at the bottom of the stairs.

“What now, Max?”

“That way!” Max said, pointing down a short corridor. “Through that door!”

“Max, that says ‘Engine Room.’ ”

“99, this is no time to be squeamish. If it’s good enough for the Injuns, it’s good enough for us. Come on!”

They raced down the corridor, then into the Engine Room. Max closed the door behind them.

“Look, Max-engines!” 99 exclaimed.

“I’m not greatly surprised,” Max replied, surveying the huge machines. “Somehow, more or less, a fella sort of expects to find engines in an engine room.”

“Max-that man!”

“Oh, yes-the fellow at that control panel. That must be the Chief Engineer.”

“All is lost, Max!”

“No, he looks like a friendly Injun to me. Let’s find out.”

They approached the man at the control panel. “How!” Max said, raising a hand.

The man glanced back over his shoulder. “Very simple,” he said. “You just punch a button and it operates itself.”

“You Chief?” Max asked.

“Ugh.”

“Me friendly paleface,” Max said. “Gotum heap big trouble. Being chased by bad guy palefaces. Chased for many moons. Upstairs, downstairs, all around the reservation. You hide-um. Me be heap grateful.”

“Paleface brother soundum like some kindum nut,” the man replied.

“Be thatum as it may, Chief,” Max said, “the problemum still remains. Needum place to hide.”

“Costum plenty wampum,” the man said.

“How muchum?”

The man eyed the ballpoint pen in Max’s breast pocket. “Me hide-um paleface brother-including paleface sister and paleface pooch-and paleface brother slip me magic stick that write-um under Father of Waters.”

“It’s a deal-um,” Max said, handing over the ballpoint pen. “Just one thing-I wouldn’t write any big checks with that pen. It has a tendency to heat up.”

“Are you kidding? You think me ignorant savage? Chief know acetylene torch when he see-um one.”

“Where do we hide?” Max asked.

“Getum behind big machine,” the man said. “When bad guy palefaces come in, me say, ‘No spikka da Angleesh.’ ”

Max, 99 and Fang darted behind the largest of the big machines. A moment later, they heard the posse shouting ‘Halt! Stop!’ as the officers entered the engine room.