Astounding British Edition, Volume 8, No. 11 — page 14: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

12. ASTOUNDING SCIENCE FICTION through the front gate withqut anybody being the wiser.” “That,” said the sergeant, slowly looking down at his sixty-three inch waist, “will take a heap of doing. You’re welcome to try though.” “Let’s get on with it then,” said Kurt, winding up a round-house swing. “If it’s all the same with you, lieutenant,” said the old sergeant, eyeing Kurt’s rock- like fist nervously, “I’d rather have the colonel do any over-powering that’s got to be done.” 7 Colonel Harris grinned and walked over to Wetzel. “Ready?” “Ready!” Harris’ fist traveled a bare five inches and tapped Wetzel lightly on the chin. “Oof!” grunted the sergeant co-opera- tively and staggered back to a point where he could collapse on the softest of the two cots. The exchange of clothes was quickly effected. Except for the pants—which per- sisted in dropping down to Kurt’s ankles— and the war bonnet—which with equal per- sistence kept sliding down over his ears— he was ready to go. The pants problem was solved easily by stuffing a pillow inside them. This Kurt fondly believed made him look more like the rotund sergeant than ever. The garrison bonnet presented a more difficult problem but he finally achieved a partial solution. By holding it up with his left hand and keeping the palm tightly pressed against his forehead, it should appear to the casual observer that he was walking engrossed in deep thought. The first two hundred yards were easy. The corridor was deserted and he plodded confidently along, the great war bonnet wobbling sedately on his head in spite of his best efforts to keep it steady. When he finally reached the exit gate, he knocked on it firmly and called to the duty sergeant. “Open up! It’s Wetzel.” Unfortunately, just then he grew careless and let go of his headgear. As the door swung open, the great war bonnet swooped down over his ears and came to rest on his shoulders. The result was that where his head normally was there could be seen only a nest of weaving feathers, The duty sergeant’s jaw suddenly dropped as he got a good look at the strange figure that stood in the darkened corridor. And then with remarkable presence of mind he slammed bolt. | “Sergeant of the guard!” he bawled, “Sergeant of the guard! There’s a thing in the corridor!” “What kind of a thing?” inquired a sleepy voice from the guard room. “A horrible kind of a thing with wiggling feathers where its head ought to be,” replied the sergeant. “Get its name, rank, and serial number,” said the sleepy voice. Kurt didn’t wait to hear any more. Dis- entangling himself from the head dress with some difficulty, he hurled it aside and pelted back down. the corridor, Lieutenant Dixon wandered back into the cell with a crestfallen look on his face. Colonel Harris and the old sergeant were so deeply engrossed in a game of “rockets high” that they didn’t even see him at first. Kurt coughed and the colonel looked up. “Change your mind?” “No, sir,” said Kurt. “Something slipped.” “What?” asked the colonel. “Sergeant Wetzel’s war bonnet. I'd rather not talk about it.” He sank down on his bunk and buried his head in his hands. “Excuse me,” said the sergeant apologeti- cally, ‘but if the lieutenant’s through with my pants I’d like to have them back. There’s a draft in here!” Kurt silently exchanged clothes and then moodily walked over to the grille that barred the window and stood looking out. “Why not go upstairs to officers’ country and out that way?” suggested the sergeant, who hated the idea of being overpowered for nothing. “If you can get to the front gate without one of the staff spotting you, you can walk right out. The sentry never notices faces, he just checks for insignia.” Kurt grabbed Sergeant Wetzel’s plump hand and wrung it warmly. “I don’t know how to thank you,” he stammered. “Then it’s about time you learned,” said the colonel. “The usual practice in civilized battalions is to say “Thank you’.” “Thank you!” said Kurt. . “Quite all right,” said the sergeant. “Take the first stairway to your left. When you get to the top, turn left again and the cor- ridor will take you straight to the exit.” Kurt got safely to the top of the stairs and turned right. Three hundred feet later the corridor ended in a blank wall. A small passageway angled off to the left and he set off down it. It also came to a dead end in a small anteroom whose farther wall was (CCOPMICLIOOKS,e€O) the door shut in Kurt’s face and clicked the —