bout it; Lunt
told the deputies to sign it or get the hell out without the Fuzzies. They
signed, inked their thumbs and printed after their signatures. Jack gave
the paper to Gus, trying not to look at the six bulging, writhing sacks,
or hear the frightened little sounds.

"George, you'll let them have some of their things, won't you?" he asked.

"Sure. What kind of things?"

"Their bedding. Some of their toys."

"You mean this junk?" The smaller of the two deputies kicked the
ball-and-stick construction. "All we got orders to take is the Fuzzies."

"You heard the gentleman." Lunt made the word sound worse than son of a
Khooghra. He turned to the two deputies. "Well, you have them; what are
you waiting for?"

Jack watched from the door as they put the sacks into the aircar, climbed
in after them and lifted out. Then he came back and sat down at the table.

"They don't know anything about court orders," he said. "They don't know
why I didn't stop it. They think Pappy Jack let them down."

"Have they gone, Jack?" Brannhard asked. "Sure?" Then he rose, reaching
behind him, and took up a little ball of white fur. Baby Fuzzy caught his
beard with both tiny hands, yeeking happily.

"Baby! They didn't get him!"

Brannhard disengaged the little hands from his beard and handed him over.

"No, and they signed for him, too." Brannhard downed what was left of his
drink, got a cigar out of his pocket and lit it. "Now, we're going to go
to Mallorysport and get the rest of them back."

"But.... But the Chief Justice signed that order. He won't give them back
just because we ask him to."

Brannhard made an impolite noise. "I'll bet everything I own Pendarvis
never saw that order. They have stacks of those things, signed in blank,
in the Chief of the Court's office. If they had to wait to get one of the
judges to sign an order every time they wanted to subpoena a witness or
impound physical evidence, they'd never get anything done. If Ham O'Brien
didn't think this up for himself, Leslie Coombes thought it up for him."

"We'll use my airboat," Gerd said. "You coming along, Ben? Let's get
started."

* * * * *

He couldn't understand. The Big Ones in the blue clothes had been friends;
they had given the whistles, and shown sorrow when the killed one was put
in the ground. And why had Pappy Jack not gotten the big gun and stopped
them. It couldn't be that he was afraid; Pappy Jack was afraid