d with the taint of old leather, told Johnson
that their companion was a native.

The storm eased its force and the two Earthmen raised their heads to
regard the corner's other occupant. He was a mahogany brown, almost
the exact color of the ankle-length leather skirt he wore. "Man, he
stinks!" Hawkes said.

Their visitor spread his hairy, wide-nostriled nose into the native
equivalent of a smile. His hairy ears twitched with pleasure and he
swelled his chest. "Blee strong all over," he said. "Want him guard?"

"Why not?" Johnson answered, glancing inquiringly at Hawkes. He
slipped a coin into the extended brown palm. "Guard us until we get to
the big-house section."

"Pale-smells be very safe," the native said.

They left their shelter as the wind died down and started toward the
taller buildings of the foreign section. "I must have said the right
thing when I said he stinks," Hawkes remarked.

"Telling a native that is the same thing, to him, as calling him
strong and virile," Johnson answered. "They admit, reluctantly, that
we foreigners have some good fighting qualities, but we're still
regarded as unmanly because of our weak odor. Their females wouldn't
look twice at either of us."

When they reached one of the few three-story structures in the city,
Johnson dismissed their guard. They entered the building and walked
down a short corridor and through a door lettered:

DONALD H. JOHNSON

District Manager

Interplanets Trade Company

"To be frank with you," Hawkes said, as he eased his lank body into
the chair Johnson offered, "I had planned to learn more about your
local activities before I introduced myself. However, I've found in
the past that my first judgment of a man is usually right, so I think
I'll get down to business immediately." He drew a set of papers from
an inside pocket and tossed them on the desk in front of Johnson. "I'm
a Company Secret Service man," he said.

* * * * *

Johnson raised his eyebrows, but looked at the papers without comment.
He glanced up at Hawkes.

"Do you recognize either of the men in the pictures?" Hawkes asked,
when he saw that Johnson had no intention of speaking.

Unhurriedly Johnson picked up the papers and removed a rubber binder.
He pulled out two photos and laid them on the desk in front of him.
"The bearded one is the man who waylaid me," he said. "Of