The Short Happy Life of the Brown Oxford and Other Classic Stories by Philip K. Dick Read Free Book Online Page B

tanks and guns! Yet, of all the packages so carefully secreted in the toyshop, this would be the only one, the only one to be—
    Something moved.
    My Lord turned quickly. From the closet Teddo came, lumbering slowly.
    “Bonzo,” he said. “Bonzo, go over by the window. I think it came in that way, if I’m not mistaken.”
    The stuffed rabbit reached the window-sill in one skip. He huddled, gazing outside. “Nothing yet.”
    “Good.” Teddo moved toward the dresser. He looked up. “Little Lord, please come down. You’ve been up there much too long.”
    My Lord stared. Fred, the rubber pig, was coming out of the closet. Puffing, he reached the dresser. “I’ll go up and get it,” he said. “I don’t think it will come down by itself. We’ll have to help it.”
    “What are you doing?” My Lord cried. The rubber pig was settling himself on his haunches, his ears down flat against his head. “What’s happening?”
    Fred leaped. And at the same time Teddo began to climb swiftly, catching onto the handles of the dresser. Expertly, he gained the top. My Lord was edging toward the wall, glancing down at the floor, far below.
    “So this is what happened to the others,” it murmured. “I understand. An Organization, waiting for us. Then everything is known.”
    It leaped.
     
    When they had gathered up the pieces and had got them under the carpet, Teddo said:
    “That part was easy. Let’s hope the rest won’t be any harder.”
    “What do you mean?” Fred said.
    “The package of toys. The tanks and guns.”
    “Oh, we can handle them. Remember how we helped next door when that first little Lord, the first one we ever encountered—”
    Teddo laughed. “It did put up quite a fight. It was tougher than this one. But we had the panda bears from across the way.”
    “We’ll do it again,” Fred said. “I’m getting so I rather enjoy it.”
    “Me, too,” Bonzo said from the window.

Beyond Lies the Wub
    They had almost finished with the loading. Outside stood the Optus, his arms folded, his face sunk in gloom. Captain Franco walked leisurely down the gangplank, grinning.
    “What’s the matter?” he said. “You’re getting paid for all this.”
    The Optus said nothing. He turned away, collecting his robes. The Captain put his boot on the hem of the robe.
    “Just a minute. Don’t go off. I’m not finished.”
    “Oh?” The Optus turned with dignity. “I am going back to the village.” He looked toward the animals and birds being driven up the gangplank into the spaceship. “I must organize new hunts.”
    Franco lit a cigarette. “Why not? You people can go out into the veldt and track it all down again. But when we run halfway between Mars and Earth—”
    The Optus went off, wordless. Franco joined the first mate at the bottom of the gangplank.
    “How’s it coming?” he asked. He looked at his watch. “We got a good bargain here.”
    The mate glanced at him sourly. “How do you explain that?”
    “What’s the matter with you? We need it more than they do.”
    “I’ll see you later, Captain.” The mate threaded his way up the plank, between the long-legged Martian go-birds, into the ship. Franco watched him disappear. He was just starting up after him, up the plank toward the port, when he saw it.
    “My God!” He stood staring, his hands on his hips. Peterson was walking along the path, his face red, leading it by a string.
    “I’m sorry, Captain” he said, tugging at the string. Franco walked toward him.
    “What is it?”
    The wub stood sagging, its great body settling slowly. It was sitting down, its eyes half shut. A few flies buzzed about its flank, and it switched its tail. It sat. There was silence.
    “It’s a wub,” Peterson said. “I got it from a native for fifty cents. He said it was a very unusual animal. Very respected.”
    “This?” Franco poked the great sloping side of the wub. “It’s a pig! A huge dirty pig!”
    “Yes sir, it’s a pig. The natives call it