e are even cities out there,
Gordon. Nothing like Marsport, but that's no loss. That's where the real
population of Mars is--decent people, men who are going to turn this
into a real planet some day."

"There are plenty like that here, too," Randolph said. He picked up the
cards. "First ace deals. Damn it, Mother, sit down-wind from me, won't
you? Or else take a bath."

Mother Corey chuckled, and wheezed his way up out of the chair,
exchanging places with Gordon. "I got a surprise for you, cobber," he
said, and there was only amusement in his voice. "I got me in fifty
gallons of water today, and tomorrow I do just that. Made up my mind
there was going to be a cleanup in Marsport, even if Wayne does win. And
stop examining the cards, Bruce. I don't cheat my friends. The readers
are put away for old-times' sake."

Randolph shrugged, and went on as if he hadn't interrupted himself.
"Ninety per cent of Marsport is decent. They have to be. It takes at
least nine honest men to support a crook. They come up here to start
over--maybe spent half their life saving up for the trip. They hear a
man can make fifty credits a day in the factories, or strike it rich
crop prospecting. What they don't realize is that things cost ten times
as much here, too. They plan, maybe, on getting rich and going back to
Earth...."

"Nobody goes back," Mother Corey wheezed. "_I_ know." His eyes rested on
Gordon.

"A lot don't want to," Praeger said. "I never meant to go back. I've got
me a farm up north. Another ten years, and I retire to it. My kids are
up there now--grandkids, that is. They're Martians; maybe you won't
believe me, but they can breathe the air here without a helmet."

The others nodded. Gordon had learned that a fair number of
third-generation people got that way. Their chests were only a trifle
larger, and their heartbeat only a few points higher; it was an internal
adaptation, like the one that had occurred in test animals reared at a
simulated forty-thousand-feet altitude on Earth, before Mars was ever
settled.

"They'll take the planet away from Earth yet," Randolph agreed.
"Marsport is strictly artificial. It's kept going only because it's the
only place where Earth will set down her ships. If Security doesn't do
anything, time will."

"Security!" Gordon muttered bitterly. Security was good at getting
people in trouble, but he had seen no other sign of it.

Randolph frowned over his cards. "Yeah, I know. The governm