Bugs Bunny was a rabbit who kept his own council and knew his own mind. He knew what he liked and didn't like, and what he was seeing right now, he didn't like. He couldn't hear all of the conversation taking place in the clearing below him, in spite of his large, keen ears, but he had heard enough. The Elmer-sized hunter capering about in a chef's hat and waving a knife at his prisoner was clearly several lettuce leaves shy of a salad bowl, and his gigantic servant reminded Bugs an awful lot of some big, hairy monsters he'd known. That was bad enough. But worse than that was what these strange beings were, what James West was also, and what that meant for the captive West. Never let it be said that Bugs Bunny was one to ignore evil when it intruded on his carrot patch! This situation was downright hare-raising.

The rabbit snuck back through the tree canopy to arrive at the other dell where Daffy was still waiting next to West's fallen rifle. Daffy gave him an impatient glare, tapping a webbed foot as Bugs climbed down from one of the trees.

"Well?" the duck demanded. "What'th the big deal? Bethides working with amateurth who don't know their lineth?"

Bugs shook his head.

"Those ain't amateurs, Daffy, and they don't belong here neither. Didn't you notice what they looked like?" The bunny bent down to examine the rifle where it was lying on the ground.

"Thure I notithed! What a bunch of weird, nearly hairleth apeth! They're ath bizarre ath Chuck!"

"You got that right – that's because they're the same species as Chuck," Bugs frowned. "I think they're hoo-mans!"

Daffy scoffed.

"Hoo-mans? Oh, c'mon, Bugs! What would a hoo-man be doing in thith plathe?"

Bugs stood up again, holding the rifle very carefully, pointing it down at the ground. Daffy took a few steps back just to be on the less unsafe side.

"I don't know how they got here," Bugs shook his head again. "But I think that West guy is in real trouble. The other two are intendin' to cook him and eat him!"

"Tho what?" Daffy snorted. "In cathe you didn't notithe, withe guy, he wath intending to thoot and eat one of uth! I hate it when that happenth!"

"No. I don't think so."

Bugs tightened one white-gloved finger on the trigger mechanism of the rifle. Daffy ducked and stuck his fingers in the side of his head, but nothing happened. No loud bang, nothing.

"See?" Bugs said. "He was only bluffin'! He didn't want to fire this thing at all! He didn't cock it!"

"Bugs!" Daffy stared at him wide-eyed. "You can't thay that! Thith ith a kidth thow! I mean, truckloadth of gratuitouth violenthe ith one thing, but . . . ."

Bugs rolled his eyes and looked straight at the readers of this story.

"Sorry, folks!" he whispered from behind one gloved hand, then gave the foul-minded fowl a quick slap. "I mean, he didn't pull the hammer back so it would shoot! He wasn't tryin' to kill us after all! But they're gonna kill him if we don't do somethin'! And he's a hoo-man, Daffy!"

"And again, I thay tho what? Pfffththhh!" The stubborn duck put his fists on his hips and made a raspberry with his beak and tongue. "Why not let him get hith jutht dethertth?"

"Because . . . ." Bugs gave a sidelong glance at the readers of this story and then leaned over to whisper something into one of Daffy's ear-like areas.

"Uh huh." The duck listened intently. Little by little, the cynical cast of his features changed into a much more dismayed expression. He gulped. "You mean . . . ?"

Bugs nodded and whispered some more. Daffy gaped in horror and ran a nervous finger under the band of white at this neck, gulping again.

"Permanently?" The duck was appalled. "How do people live like that?"

"They don't," Bugs replied, arms crossed over his chest. "That's the problem. That's why we gotta stop those two bad eggs before it's too late!"

Daffy nodded. Bugs would get no further argument from him. The duck wiped a handful of sweat from his brow.

"I'm thure glad I'm not a hoo-man!" he exclaimed. "But what are we gonna do?"

"Listen," Bugs said. "I got a plan . . . ." The rabbit began whispering some more. "So first we . . . ."

Daffy whispered a question back.

"And then we . . . ."

"Uh huh . . . ."

Then they both looked up and once again realized this story was being read.

"Uh, if you don't mind, folks, this plan has to remain top secret!" And with a yank on the rope pull that had appeared from out of nowhere, Bugs brought down a canvas sheet to conceal the rest of the conversation.

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"I have to admit, Mr. West," Loveless said as he set down the wooden spoon and picked up a strip of cloth from the trestle table, "I have made one small error."

"Only one?" Jim retorted, still trying to find a way to untie himself. "I can think of several."

But this time the diminutive doctor wasn't allowing himself to be baited. He continued to smile as he handed the cloth to Voltaire.

"Perhaps not so much a mistake as a misstatement," Loveless corrected. "You see, I referred earlier to your begging for mercy, and while that sound would be music to my ears, I simply can't abide loud noises, such as screaming. So before I can instruct Voltaire in the proper method of filleting you, I'm afraid I'm going to need to have him shut you up."

It seemed that Jim's luck had finally run out as Voltaire, cloth in hand, looked over at him with a menacing grin as vicious as any Loveless could have managed to wear.

"Of course," Jim said to Loveless, "I should have realized you were going to make your henchman do all the dirty work when I didn't see a stepladder." He was rewarded for his bravado by seeing the tiniest wisp of smoke and flame rising up above the doctor's forehead. "I'm surprised, though – you usually go in for shortcuts."

This time a burst of fire did appear above Loveless' head for a second, scorching the edges of his toque, accompanied by blasts of steam coming out of his ears in a way that he still seemed oblivious to.

"Voltaire!" Loveless snapped, pointing angrily at the prisoner.

The big man advanced toward the tree trunk, twisting and gripping the piece of cloth more like a garotte than a soon-to-be gag.

"And now, Mr. West," Loveless grumbled through tightly clenched teeth, "any more famous last words?"

"CUT!" a voice yelled from one side of the clearing.

Loveless looked like he'd been getting ready to do just that, reaching for the sharpened chef's knife. But he and Voltaire were halted in mid-motion as two bizarre figures suddenly strode onto the scene from behind the wooden cabin. The speaker, the taller and faster of the two, wore a colorful beret on his head, tilted at an angle, dark-colored glasses and a bright and garishly patterned shirt. One gloved hand held a large, funnel-shaped speaking trumpet while the other hand gestured for the second figure to follow. This second figure, evidently an assistant of some kind, in a bigger, floppier beret and a smock, carried a large bowl of some powdered substance and what appeared to be an oversize cosmetic puff. For the moment, all Loveless and Voltaire could do was stare at these new arrivals, dumbfounded.

Arte? Jim wondered, not knowing where a second rescuer might have come from or why his partner might have adopted one of these outlandish disguises. But then he became nearly as astonished as Loveless when he saw from behind the cottontail of a very big bunny sticking out from the clothing of the figure holding the speaking trumpet. It wasn't possible, and yet . . . . The . . . rabbit? Shaking his head a little as if to clear his vision, Jim now realized that the other, smaller figure might be the duck he had seen earlier. The humanoid talking animals appeared to be almost as skillful as Artemus at disguise, if a little less attentive to detail. Now that he knew what to look for, he caught a glimpse of a dark, feathery rather than fleshy arm on the second figure. And how could he not have noticed the beak? Maybe something about the strangeness of this place?

Before Loveless and Voltaire could recover from this unexpected turn of events, the disguised bunny took up a position right in front of Loveless and raised the megaphone. As Loveless attempted to back away, Bugs pointed the large funnel end at him and yelled into the narrow part at the top of his lungs.

"I SAID CUT!"

The sound came out with such force that Loveless' curly gray hair was blown backwards almost to the point of straightening and the singed chef's toque went flying. The half-deafened mad scientist dropped the knife, dropped to his knees and covered both ears with his hands while staring up at this new interloper in dismay.

"When I say CUT! I mean CUT!" the rabbit continued to yell, causing Loveless to wince and flinch even more. Bugs glared down at him and tapped the ground impatiently with one large foot. "You think this is a wrap? This isn't even a muff!" The 'director' yanked Loveless to his feet with one sharp tug of a gloved hand on the doctor's hunting jacket, yanked at its collar and then pointed to the fallen toque. "What are we tryin' to say here? Are we tryin' to say chef or are we tryin' to say hunter? And that pasty complexion you got? Tsk! MAKEUP!"

Daffy had taken his own position in between Voltaire and his intended victim, but Voltaire seemed frozen with indecision about what to do next. To one side, past the meddler with the powder bowl was the hated James West, at long last unable to get away. But on his other side, Voltaire's master appeared to be under attack. Rapid thought processes were not the giant's strong point, but he had his priorities. Voltaire dropped the gag and began to lurch toward Dr. Loveless and the taller interloper. The pest with the powder bowl was faster, smacking Voltaire full in the face with the cosmetic puff and blinding the henchman with a cloud of powder.

"Coming right up, Thir!" the 'makeup assistant' responded before running up to Dr. Loveless and swatting him not just once but several times with the powder puff, forcing the doctor to drop to his knees again in a blinded coughing and sneezing fit.

Voltaire, coughing himself, wiped his eyes and attempted to take action rather than a powder, but became confused when the 'director' turned the megaphone on him and yelled.

"HOLD IT RIGHT THERE!"

Voltaire reached for the megaphone, but in a flash of movement it was gone, and Bugs, instead of being right in front of him, was now on top of one of his massive shoulders.

"Saaayy! This is more like it!" the disguised rabbit exclaimed, squeezing one of the big man's biceps. "Anyone ever tell you you've got Tarzan potential? Or maybe King Kong? You have such star quality I could kiss you!" Bugs puffed up his lips again and moved as if he were about to plant a kiss on Voltaire's kisser. Outraged, the henchman attempted to hit him, only to wind up punching himself in the jaw as the rabbit disappeared once more. Dazed, the giant began to stumble backwards, now to have the duck in disguise pull his pants down around his ankles and give him a push so that Voltaire sat down with a splash in the bubbling cauldron.

"Ehhh, what's up?" Bugs asked him. "What's cookin'?"

The big henchman gave a very un-Voltaire-like shriek as he realized that what was cookin' was him. He managed a twenty foot long-jump out of the kettle, then smashed into the ground, red-faced first and holding his scalded rump with both hands. He appeared almost ready to pass out, and little, tweeting birds began circling his head.

"That oughtta take care of those two for now," Bugs snickered to Daffy. "Let's go and free Mr. West!"

Together, the disguised duck and rabbit raced toward the tree trunk, neither of them noticing the small, hand-held gadget that Loveless took out of one pocket and pressed a button on. Just as they got within several feet of the captive Secret Service agent, a concealed device resembling a huge, padded bear trap lined with netting snapped up out of the ground, trapping them both.

"Well this is a revoltin' development," Bugs said, struggling unsuccessfully to pull himself loose. Daffy had no better luck.

Jim watched in dismay, unable to do anything to help them, as Loveless wiped the powder off his face, got to his feet and grinned menacingly at his two new prisoners.

"Really, Mr. Gordon," Loveless sniggered at Bugs. "Did you think I wouldn't prepare for your pathetic attempt to rescue your partner?" He waited until Voltaire, too, had managed to stagger to his feet before approaching these snagged meddlers. But he was in for a surprise when Voltaire lifted him up so he could snatch off Bugs' dark glasses and beret. Once again, the rest of the disguise seemed to fall away and the bunny's tall ears popped up. "You're not Artemus Gordon!" the doctor exclaimed.

"And you ain't exactly Claude Rains yourself, Bub!" the bunny retorted, glaring.

"Why not let them go?" Jim called out to Loveless from the tree trunk. "It's me you're after, remember?"

The mad genius shook his head and made a tsking sound.

"Why, Mr. West," the doctor gloated, "I suppose I should expect that sort of tender-hearted plea from a do-gooder like you. But you don't seriously expect me to do any such thing, do you? After all this time I thought you knew me better than that."

I do, Jim thought, but he'd had to make the effort anyway. Now his would-be rescuers might wind up sharing his fate. As if to confirm this, Loveless had Voltaire grab Bugs and Daffy by the scruffs of their necks before he used his control device to reset the trap. On the doctor's orders, the giant bore them toward the tree trunk to be tied up beside West.

"You're desthpicable!" Daffy spat back at the diminutive villain.

"Flattery will get you nowhere," Loveless grinned.