iangular chairs at a three-cornered table. Bart waited for
Ringg to order, and ordered what he did. When it came, it was a sort of
egg-and-fish casserole which Bart found extremely tasty, and he dug into
it with pleasure. Allowing for the claws, Lhari table manners were not
so much different from human--_and remember, their customs differ as
much as ours do. If you do something differently, they'll just think
you're from another planet with a different culture._

"Have you been here long?"

"A day or so. I'm off the _Swiftwing_."

Bart decided to hazard his luck. "I was told there's a vacancy on the
_Swiftwing_."

Ringg looked at him curiously. "There is," he said, "but I'd like to
know how you found it out. Captain Vorongil said that anyone who talked
about it would be sent to Kleeto for three cycles. But what happened to
you? Miss your ship?"

"No, I've just been laying off--traveling, sight-seeing, bumming
around," Bart said. "But I'm tired of it, and now I'd like to sign out
again."

"Well, we could use another man. This is the long run we're making, out
to Antares and then home, and if everybody has to work extra shifts,
it's no fun. But if old Vorongil knows that there's been talk in the
port about Klanerol jumping ship, or whatever happened to him, we'll all
have to walk wide of his temper."

Bart was beginning to relax a little; Ringg apparently accepted him
without scrutiny. At this close range Ringg did not seem a monster, but
just a young fellow like himself, hearty, good-natured--in fact, not
unlike Tommy.

Bart chased the thought away as soon as it sneaked into his brain--one
of those _things_, like _Tommy_? Then, rather grimly, he reminded
himself, _I'm one of those things_. He said irritably, "So how do I
account for asking your captain for the place?"

Ringg cocked his fluffy crest to one side. "I know," he said, "_I_ told
you. I'll say you're an old friend of mine. You don't know what
Vorongil's like when he gets mad. But what he doesn't know, he won't
shout about." He shoved back the triangular chair. "Who _did_ tell you,
anyway?"

This was the first real hurdle, and Bart's brain raced desperately, but
Ringg was not listening for an answer. "I suppose somebody gossiped, or
one of those fool Mentorians picked it up. Got your papers? What
rating?"

"Astrogator first class."

"Klanerol was second, but you can't have everything, I suppose." Ringg
led the way through the arcades, out across