"Yeow," the man yelled, jerking awake. He looked around in surprise, and saw Chiun standing in front of him, resplendent in a heavily brocaded yellow daytime robe.

"I must be dreaming," the derelict said. He rubbed his ear. But if he was dreaming, why did his ear hurt so much?

"Listen," said Chiun. "We are not concerned with your stupid ear. What kind of gold medal should we win in the Olympics?"

"You?" the drunk said. He looked Chiun over carefully. "Maybe the Golden Age Mile. You can all walk."

"Not me," Chiun said. "My student." He pointed and the man craned his neck to get a better look at Remo.

39

"He don't look so young either," the drunk said. "And he don't look like no athlete. I'm thirsty."

"Pick an event," Chiun insisted.

"Something that's not too hard. Maybe he can run. He looks like he's been running from cops. Can you run? A half-mile. Maybe he can run a half a mile?" He decided he was awake and he wondered who these people were and what they were doing in his zoo. Maybe while he was asleep someone had taken him from the zoo to the asylum.

"Yeah, I can run a half-mile," Remo said.

"Okay. Do a half-mile. Or meters. I think they do it in meters now. America has switched to the metric system. They even sell booze by liters now. And there's meters and millimeters and like that." He swelled his chest with pride. He felt like a patriot.

"Shut up," Chiun said. "Thank you." He returned to Remo. "Give the man a nickel for bis trouble."

Remo walked over to the drunk, who was still mumbling about meters and millimeters and liters. Remo slipped a fifty-dollar bill into the derelict's hand, keeping his back turned so that Smith, who paid all the bills, would not see.

"Here," Remo said. "Buy yourself an imperial load on."

"I don't believe all this," Smith said.