From each little house on each little street, the Tyrrans came, every man, woman, and child, even Captain Ik with a guard from the jail. The rain had stopped, and the evening light shone gold on the brown field in which the tiny people stood assembled.
President Ot addressed them. “Fellow Tyrrans! I must confess that your government has deceived you! The truth is: It will be at least a year before our fields and streams are fit again.”
Cries rose from the crowd. “We were lied to!” … “Lordy, talk about bad news!” … “We’ll starve!” … “Shoot the scientists!”
“Wait!” shouted President Ot. “We are offered refuge on Earth, if the voyage is possible! Pay attention, please!”
Stepping forward, Mr. Lambchop read aloud from the booklet that had come with the Star Scout.
“‘Your spacecraft has been designed for safety as well as comfort. Use only as directed.’” He raised his voice. “‘Do not add weight by bringing souvenirs aboard or by inviting friends to ride with you.’”
Cries rose again. “That did it!” … “We’re not souvenirs!” … “He said no friends either, stupid!” … “We’ve had it, looks like!”
Mr. Lambchop raised his hand. “There is still hope! But you must all be weighed! Also the supplies you would require for the trip!”
The Star Scout’s bathroom scale, set down in the field, proved too high for the Tyrrans, and the weighing was briefly delayed until Arthur, using the Monopoly board, made a ramp by which they could easily mount.
General Ap barked orders. “Right, then! Groups of twenty to twenty-five, families together! And don’t jiggle!”
The Ots and six other families marched up onto the scale, beside which Mrs. Lambchop stood with pad and pencil. “Seven and one-quarter pounds!” she said, writing it down.
“Next!” shouted General Ap, but the Ot group was already starting down, and another marching up.
Group after group mounted the scale. There was jiggling, due to excited children, but Mrs. Lambchop took care to wait until the needle was still. Within an hour the entire population of Tyrra had been weighed, along with its supplies of tinned food and Fizzola, and she added up.
“Tyrrans, two hundred and thirty-nine,” she announced. “Food and Fizzola, one hundred and forty. Total: Three hundred and seventy-nine pounds!”
“Are we saved? Or are we too fat?” came a cry.
“Too soon to tell!” Mr. Lambchop called back. “We must see how we can lighten our ship!”
A good start was made by discarding the Star Scout’s dining table and one steel bunk, since Stanley and Arthur could easily share. Then out went Stanley’s tennis balls, extra sweater, and his Chief Pilot zip jacket with the American flag; out went Arthur’s knee socks, raincoat, and a plastic gorilla he had smuggled aboard. Mr. and Mrs. Lambchop added their extra clothing, lamps, kitchenware, the Monopoly game, and at last, the posters of Mexico and France.
The crowd stood hushed as the pile was weighed. Somewhere a baby cried, and its parents scolded it.
“Three hundred and seventy-seven pounds!” Mrs. Lambchop announced. “Oh, dear!” she whispered to President Ot. “Two less than we need.”
“I see.” President Ot, after a moment’s thought, climbed up onto the scale. “Good news, Tyrrans!” he called. “Almost all of us are saved!”
Cheers went up, and then someone shouted, “What do you mean, almost all?”
“We weigh, as a nation, a bit too much,” President Ot explained. “But only four, if largish, need stay behind. I shall be one. Will three more volunteer?”
Murmurs rose from the crowd. “That’s my kind of President!” … “Leave Ik behind!” … “How about you, Ralph?” … “Ask somebody else, darn you!”
The matter was quickly resolved. “I won’t go without you, dear,” Mrs. Ot told her husband, and Captain Ik, hoping to regain popularity, announced that he too would remain.
General Ap was the fourth volunteer. “Just an old soldier, ma’am,” he told Mrs. Lambchop. “Lived a full life, time now to just fade away, to—”
“Hey! Wait!”
Arthur was pointing to the scale.
“We forgot that,” he said. “We can leave the scale behind. Now nobody has to stay!”