It was quite a long way to the emergency station in the ship's lounge, but Lennie plodded on, determined to drag Creamy there. Head drooping, ears almost sweeping the floor, he was huffing and puffing hard. Now and then he stumbled a little, but his grip on Creamy's leg never slackened.
Oddly enough, he suddenly found the going easier: it was because Creamy had stopped struggling. Forgetting all about being called a bear, he was beginning to enjoy the ride. He put his paws under his head, and with a smile spreading all over his face, cried out:
‘I say, Lennie, this is fun!’
Lennie just grunted and plodded on.
‘Yeeees?!' gasped Lennie. He - on the other hand - was not enjoying any of it one little bit. ‘Now, what!’
‘Shall I sing you a song?’
‘No, thanks,’ shuddered Lennie, and picking up his weary feet, he padded along as fast as he could.
‘Right,’ said Creamy, ‘I will.’ He cleared his throat a couple of times, and burst into a song:
happy dogs are we . . .’
Lennie groaned, for when Creamy sang, he SANG! When Creamy sang, forests shook; small animals plugged their ears, and scampered into the undergrowth; and fish dived to the bottom of the sea. When Creamy sang, the whole world ran for cover.
Lennie just sighed and shuffled along, trying to think of something other than the awful sound coming from behind him.
Fortunately, it was not long before Lennie found himself outside the lounge door. Like all doors on the ship, the lounge door was made of thick steel. Lennie eyed it up and down, frowning; he needed two paws to push it open. But he did not dare let go his grip of Creamy. In the end, he turned round and stared at his friend hard: