out to intercept 'em. Six of 'em. They can get close enough to set off
their proximity fuses, anyhow. But what are we going to do, Joe, if
somebody flings seven bombs at us? We can manage six--maybe. But what'll
we do with the one that's left over?"

"Have you any ideas?" asked Joe.

The Chief shook his head. Brent said mildly. "We've worked on that here
in the Platform, I assure you. And as Sanford puts it quite soundly,
about the only thing we can really do is throw our empty tin cans at
them."

Joe nodded. Then he tensed. Brent had meant it as a rather mirthless
joke. But Joe was astonished at what his own brain made of it. He
thought it over. Then he said, "Why not? It ought to be a very good
trick."

Brent stared at him incredulously. Haney looked solemnly at him. The
Chief regarded Joe thoughtfully out of the corner of his eye. Then Mike
shouted gleefully. The Chief blinked, and a moment later grunted
wrathful unintelligible syllables of Mohawk, and then tried to pound Joe
on the back and because of his want of weight went head over heels into
the air between the six walls of the kitchen.

Haney said disgustedly, "Joe, there are times when a guy wants to murder
you! Why didn't I think of that?"

But Brent was looking at the four of them with a lively, helpless
curiosity. "Will you guys let me in on this?"