Marshall King

“ There's something about that fuzzy little devil that we should.... Forbes! I warned you about that gun!"
Purnie moved across the top of the rockpile for a last look at his friends. His weight on the end of the first log started the slide. Slowly at first, the giant pencils began cascading down the short distance to the sand. Purnie fell back onto solid ground, horrified at the spectacle before him. The agonizing screams of the animals below filled him with hysteria.
The boulders caught most of them as they stood ankle-deep in the surf. Others were pinned down on the sand. ”

“ We're either crazy or those damn logs are alive!"
"It's not the logs. How about us? How'd we get out of the water? Miles, we're both cracking."
"I'm telling you, man, it's the logs, or rocks or whatever they are. I was looking right at them. First they're on top of me, then they're piled up over there!"
"Damnit, the logs didn't pick us up out of the ocean, did they? Captain Benson!"
"Are you men all right?" ”

“ He knew, too, that at this moment, in the forest, the little brook picked up its flow where it had left off, the purple clouds resumed their leeward journey up the valley, and the bees continued their pollen-gathering without having missed a single stroke of their delicate wings. ”

“ Those logs are so old they're petrified. The whole bunch of us couldn't lift one. It would take super-human energy to move one of those things."
"I haven't seen anything super-human. Those ostriches down there are so busy eating seaweed—"
"All right, let's bear a hand here with the others. Some of them can't walk. Where's Forbes?"
"He's sitting down there in the water, Captain, crying like a baby. Or laughing. I can't tell which."
"We'll have to get him. Miles, Schick, come along. Forbes! You all right?"
"Ho-ho-ho! Seventeen! Seventeen! Seventeen planets, Benson, and they'll do anything I say! ”

“ The tripon thought Purnie's feat was superb. It stopped munching long enough to give him a salutory wag of its rump before returning to its repast.
Purnie ran from pillar to post, trying to see and do everything at once. He looked around to greet the flock of spora, but they had glided to a spot further along the shore. Then, bouncing up to the first of the two-legged animals, he started to burst forth with his habitual "Hi there!" when he heard them making sounds of their own.
"... will be no limit to my operations now, Benson. This planet makes seventeen. ”

“ The lapping tide threatened to cover those in the orange surf.
Purnie worked his way down the hill, imploring them to save themselves. The sounds they made carried a new tone, a desperate foreboding of death.
"Rhodes! Cabot! Can you hear me?"
"I—I can't move, Captain. My leg, it's.... My God, we're going to drown!"
"Look around you, Cabot. Can you see anyone moving?"
"The men on the beach are nearly buried, Captain. And the rest of us here in the water—"
"Forbes. Can you see Forbes? Maybe he's—" His sounds were cut off by a wavelet gently rolling over his head. ”

“ And tell me, Forbes, just what the hell are you going to do with them—mount them on the wall of your den back in San Diego?"
"Hi there, wanna play?" Purnie's invitation got nothing more than startled glance from the animals who quickly returned to their chatter. He scampered up the beach, picked up his lunch, and ran back to them, tagging along at their heels. "I've got my lunch, want some?"
"Benson, you'd better tell your men back there to stop gawking at the scenery and get to work. Time is money. ”

“ Purnie followed along.
"Well, Benson, you won't have to look far for materials to use for the base of the flag pole. Look at that rockpile up there.
"Can't use them. They're petrified logs. The ones on top are too high to carry down, and if we move those on the bottom, the whole works will slide down on top of us."
"Well—that's your problem. Just remember, I want this flag pole to be solid. It's got to stand at least—"
"Don't worry, Forbes, we'll get your monument erected. What's this with the flag? There must be more to staking a claim than just putting up a flag." ”

“ Playing held more promise than eating. He left his lunch half eaten and went down to where they had stopped further along the beach.
"Captain Benson, sir! Miles has detected strong radiation in the vicinity. He's trying to locate it now."
"There you are, Forbes. Your new piece of real estate is going to make you so rich that you can buy your next planet. That'll make eighteen, I believe."
"Radiation, bah! We've found low-grade ore on every planet I've discovered so far, and this one'll be no different. Now how about that flag? Let's get it up, Benson. ”