"And now I got to think up the idea," the secretary said, still holding the empty glass. "No, I thought it up on my way back," the governor said. "I'm going to fly to Washington this afternoon." "Not the army, for God's sake," pleaded the adjutant. "No, I'm going to dump it on the Russian embassy. Damn their black hearts, they started this. Hurry up with that drink!" "Watch out you don't lose your donkey for sure and all," the adjutant said. "Them Russians are smart cookies." "They'll have to be," the governor said, reaching for the fresh drink. "They sure ... as ... _hell_ ... will have to be!" * * * * * All the folding chairs were taken. Extra women stood in the aisles and along the side of the hall. Martha Stonery bulged over the rostrum in blue knitted wool and a pearl necklace. Seated around a half-circle of chairs behind her, pack leaders and committee chairwomen smoothed at their skirts. Monica Flint in dove gray sat at the organ. Martha pounded with her gavel so hard that her pearls rattled. "Everyone will please stand while we sing our hymn," she said into the resultant hush. She nodded to Monica, who began to play. "_I did not raise my dog to ride a sputnik, I will not let him wander to the moon...._" The song was a shrill thundering. Martha beamed across her bosom as the crowd settled itself again. "I have a most thrilling announcement to make before we adjourn, girls," she said, "but first we will have committee reports. Paula Hart, will you begin?" She yielded the rostrum. All the reports were favorable. The U.D.D. was getting four times as many column-inches in the state press as the Russian moonship. It was on TV and radio. A _Life_ team was coming. Changes were recommended. Vigilante packs were not to carry hat pins any more. Two policemen had lost eyes and the police were being ugly about it. A bar of soap in a man's sock was to be substituted. More practice on the clove hitch was needed. Too often, in their excitement, the pack ladies were only putting two half hitches around the leg and the dog could struggle out of it. Martha came back to the rostrum to read the honor roll of those whom dogs had bitten or policemen had insulted. Each heroine came forward amid cheers and clapping to receive a certificate exchangeable for the Bleeding Heart medal as soon as the honors committee could agree on a design and have a supply made up. Martha shook the hands, some of them bandaged, and wept a few tears. "And now, fellow U.D.D. members," she said, "I will tell you my surprise. Tomorrow morning I have an appointment with someone coming from Washington!" A sighing murmur swept through the hall. "No, not _Eisenhower_," Martha said scornfully. "A man from the Russian embassy, a Mr. Cherkassov." Applause crashed shrilly. Women wept and hugged each other.