Flaming Zeppelins Read Free Page A

had a pair that were similar, only on the toes of the boots the buffaloes were mating. He wore those when he went out with the boys.
    As the zeppelins dropped, escorted by the Japanese biplanes, Japan swelled up to meet them, showed them fishing villages of stick and thatch and little running figures. Farther inland the sticks gave way to thousands of colorful soldier tents tipped with wind-snapped flags as far as the eye could see. Samurai, in bright leather, carrying long spears with banners attached and swords at their sides, lifted their helmet-covered heads to watch the zeppelins drop. From above, the Japanese in their armor appeared to be hard-shell beetles waiting for a meal to land politely into their mandibles.
    As the zeppelins glided toward the long runway, bordered by soldiers, the band went silent, and Cody yelled to Goober through the talk tube.
    â€œTurn me and raise a hand.”
    Goober worked the controls. The steam man hissed and turned, raised a hand. Buntline, from experience, adjusted the talk tube so that it faced the crowd on the deck.
    Cody boomed and gurgled. “My friends. This is an important mission. Relations with Japan over the Custer fight are strained. We are here to entertain, but we are also here as ambassadors. As role models for the others, I must ask special things of you. I need advise Mrs. Oakley not at all, but men. Stay off the liquor. They have a particularly nasty drink here called sake. Don’t touch it. Keep your Johnsons in your shorts. Pass this word along… No offense, Annie.”
    Annie blushed.
    â€œAnd men, try not to get into fights. I have dealt with the Japanese. For a time I was an ambassador to Japan. They are extremely good hand-to-hand fighters. They have a thing they call Daito Ryu Jujitsu. Boxing and brawling stand up to it poorly. They can tie you in more knots than a drunk mule skinner. Trust me on this. And in case you have not noticed, you are outnumbered. They have few guns, on the planes mostly, but they are absolutely magical with the weapons they carry. Stay in camp. You will be treated well. Abide by all the rules I have laid out, or I’m gonna be madder than the proverbial wet hen.
    â€œSo now. What do we say?”
    Up went the cry: “WILD WEST SHOW FOREVER.”
    â€œHickok,” Cody said sharply.
    â€œOh, all right,” Hickok said, his face red. “Wild West Show Forever. Okay, now I’ve said it… I didn’t hear Bull say it.”
    â€œBull?” Cody said.
    â€œHey, me say thing,” Bull lied.
    Once moored and disembarked, The Wild West Show — seven hundred strong, escorted by a clutch of Samurai and a robed translator who was also the Shogun’s Master Physician — was amazed and delighted and a little frightened by the variety of armor and weapons, the ferocious appearance of the Japanese warriors.
    Fragrances of food and body oils unfamiliar to them wafted through the air and stuffed their heads like mummy skulls packed with incense and myrrh, a musty beetle or two, a slice of raw fish.
    They gravitated toward a great black tent, the peak of which was tipped with a pole and black pennant wriggling in the wind like a small ray with its tail pinned by a rock.
    There was much formality. The Americans tried to bow at the right time and look pleasant. Cody, in his jar, could only grin. In his steam man arms, Cody carried a red and blue Indian blanket wrapped around gifts from President Grant. So heavy were they, he could not have carried it with his own natural arms. The gifts were for the Shogun, Sokaku Takeda.
    When the rituals were complete, Cody spoke through his tube. “From President Ulysses S. Grant to you.”
    Since the steam man could not bend completely over, Hickok and Bull came forward, took hold of the blanket on either side and lifted it from the steam man’s arms. Sweat popped on their heads as they lowered the blanket and its burden onto a bright runner at the