While he was in the kitchen, filling a soda siphon and getting ice out of
the refrigerator, a police whistle began shrilling in the living room. He
was opening a bottle of whisky when Little Fuzzy came dashing out, blowing
on it, a couple more of the family pursuing him and trying to get it away
from him. He opened a tin of Extee Three for the Fuzzies, as he did,
another whistle in the living room began blowing.

"We have a whole shoebox full of them at the post," Lunt yelled to him
above the din. "We'll just write these two off as expended in service."

"Well, that's real nice of you, George. I want to tell you that the
Fuzzies appreciate that. Ahmed, suppose you do the bartending while I give
the kids their candy."

By the time Khadra had the drinks mixed and he had distributed the Extee
Three to the Fuzzies, Lunt had gotten into the easy chair, and the Fuzzies
were sitting on the floor in front of him, still looking him over
curiously. At least the Extee Three had taken their minds off the whistles
for a while.

"What I want to know, Jack, is where they came from," Lunt said, taking
his drink. "I've been up here for five years, and I never saw anything
like them before."

"I've been here five years longer, and I never saw them before, either. I
think they came down from the north, from the country between the
Cordilleras and the West Coast Range. Outside of an air survey at ten
thousand feet and a few spot landings here and there, none of that country
has been explored. For all anybody knows, it could be full of Fuzzies."