"Just that he'd give $10,000 for a green cat and that he didn't want any dye-jobs. That was a couple weeks ago. Some of the other boys asked for details, but he said there weren't any." He stood up. "But what's the use of talking about it? We can't do anything," he said harshly, suddenly glaring at Sacheverell, as if daring him, or imploring him, to answer. "Well ..." said Sacheverell. Phil had finished his thinking. He got to his feet and squared his narrow shoulders. "We can rescue the green cat from Brimstine," he said. "Who's with me?" Cookie whirled on him. "Nobody, not even yourself," he said, while Jack put his hand to his temple and groaned, "Now the Ikeless Joe." Juno heaved herself out of her chair and lumbered over with her glass and bottle. "Look, Phil," she said, "I gotta admit you're a spunky little mutt. But nobody, simply nobody, goes up against Moe Brimstine." Phil considered that for a moment. "I did," he said proudly. "Yeah, I know," she admitted, "but he didn't take it seriously." Phil looked at Sacheverell. "How about you?" he asked. "You believe in Lucky." Cookie glared warningly at Sacheverell. "If any one of us bothers Moe Brimstine about the green cat," Cookie said, "we'll all be inhaling molten plastic!" "Well ..." said Sacheverell, looking around for advice. His gaze settled on his wife. "Mary, what steps do you think we should take?" Mary, chewing her tongue over a difficult job of wax shaving, twitched her shoulders. "I don't care what anyone else does," she said, lifting off the microtome-thin flake. "I'm working on Moe Brimstine my own little way." And she held up for their inspection a small wax head which already was beginning to look like the heavy jowled assistant boss of Fun Incorporated. "And when it's all finished," she told them, "then needles and pins!" Juno said, "Ugh!" Cookie looked almost impressed. While Sacheverell gnawed his lip thoughtfully and, with a wary eye on Jack and Cookie, said, "Yes, I suppose that is the best way after all." "Okay," Phil said and started for the door. "Where do you think you're going?" Cookie demanded. "To get him back," Phil said. At that there was a rush of footsteps and several voices competing in assuring him he would do no such thing, but it was Juno who grabbed his shoulders and swiveled him around. "Phil," she said, "for wunct I gotta admit that I agree with these jerks. You're not going to do anything about that--that fool cat. You just gotta get that through your nut wunct and for all." Phil just smiled at her. She shook her head disgustedly. "I shouldn't have give you that whiskey." "It wasn't the whiskey, but what you put in it," Cookie interjected crisply. "He's high."