. They kidnaped the hero-symbol, the big cheese, and later
killed him. And the Inca and the Aztec cultures collapsed."

Homer was scowling at him unhappily.

Dave summed it up. "All we need is one fuzzy minded commie from the
Soviet Complex, or one super-dooper democrat who thinks that El Hassan
stands in the way of _freedom_, whatever that is, and bingo a couple
of bullets in your tummy and the El Hassan movement folds its tents
like the Arabs and takes a powder, as the old expression goes."

"You have your point," Homer Crawford admitted. "Follow through, Dave.
Figure out some screening program."

* * * * *

Cliff came in. "Hey, Homer. Guess what old Jake has done."

"Jake Armstrong?"

"He's swung the Africa for Africans Association in New York over to
us. They've raised a million bucks. What'll we do with it? How can he
get anything to us?"

"We'll have him plow it back into publicity and further fund raising
campaigns," Homer said. "That's the way it's done. You raise some
money for some cause and then spend it all on a bigger campaign to
raise still more money, and what you get from that one you plow into a
still bigger campaign."

Cliff said, "Don't you _ever_ get anything out of it?"

Dave and Homer both laughed.

Cliff said, "I've got some still better news."

"Good news, we can use," Homer said.

* * * * *

The big Californian looked at him in pretended awe. "A poet no less,"
he said.

"Shut up," Homer said. "What's the news?"

The fact of the matter was, he was becoming increasingly impatient of
the continual banter expected of him by Cliff and even the others. As
original members of the team, they expected an intimacy that he was
finding it increasingly difficult to deliver. Among other things, he
wished that Cliff, in particular, would mind his attitude when such
followers as Guemama were present. The El Hassan posture could be
maintained only in never to be compromised dignity.

Bey had once compared him to Alexander, to Homer's amusement at the
time. But now he was beginning to sympathize with the position the
Macedonian leader had found himself in, betwixt the King-God conscious
Persians, and the rough and ready Companions who formed his bodyguard
and crack cavalry units. A King-God simply didn't banter with his
subordinates, not even his blood-kin.

Cliff scowled at him now, at the sharpness of Homer's words, but he
mad