The Sailor related that Dennis had failed to return for twenty minutes, at which time, becoming curious rather than worried, the Sailor had gone into the lobby and asked if anyone had seen a boy resembling Dennis. Whereupon he was informed that said boy about twenty minutes before had made a trip to the men’s room, had reeled back out as if intoxicated, and had continued to reel out of the theater as if he did not know which direction was up, down or otherwise. “My God!” wailed Ajax. “Dennis is walking around the town drunk on Orange-dee-lite, and—” “Mr. Ajax.” The voice of Dr. Heinz Hockelbach, followed by his body, came through the rear flap of the tent, frowning displeasure. “It is three o’clock. Egbert IX is ready to begin. Where is this Dennis Ogg?” “He’s not here,” Ajax said sadly. “Look, Dr. Hockelbach, he’s sick, couldn’t we—” Hockelbach stamped his foot. “No! My colleagues, in fact all of Terran science has been insulted by the precocity of this stripling. We will no longer be humiliated. Produce your Dennis Ogg. Make him un-sick. But Egbert IX begins the problem at once!” And turning on his angry heel, Hockelbach vanished. Ajax mournfully threw his cigar to the ground. “Finished. Where would a boy like Dennis go if he was plas—er, sick from too much pop? Where? I don’t know. And if we don’t find him—” The Sailor tapped his knobby dome. “Maybe the park, huh? Subconscious, huh? How about that?” The mouth of Fred Ajax dropped open. “No time to lose!” he shouted, and raced pell mell across the lot, the Sailor in hot pursuit. As they headed for the nearest ’copter stand, thoughts whirled in the mind of Fred Ajax: The park! A place of release from good old guardian Cranch. Maybe? Brother, let’s hope, or we’re candidates for laughingstocks and we might as well go mine carbonates on Mars. The moments that followed were sheer agony. At three-sixteen the ’copter set them down in the park. Fred Ajax immediately enlisted the aid of three policemen, but it so happened that the policemen were also hunting for Dennis. Pandemonium had invaded the park that afternoon. A young boy described by all who came in contact with him as a Monster had been running berserk during the last hour, pelting people with peas from his pea-shooter, tripping fat ladies, crossing bridle paths, leaping over water fountains, walking on the grass when no walking was allowed, screeching, howling, scalping small girls with an imaginary tomahawk and hiccupping frantically. At twenty minutes until four they found Dennis trying to swim the park lagoon. The unfortunate fact was that the lagoon had been drained of water that morning to facilitate cleaning.