e Vininese held a snub-nosed rocket-pistol.

"Your permit?" the Vininese asked languidly.

"Yesterday I came here from--"

"Then you have no permit. I must shoot you, of course."

"Sir, I have a message from Agron! You must take me to Headquarters!"

"Oh, you're a tourist. But this is a prohibited area. From the dust
on your tunic, I take it you have done a great deal of walking. A
pity, my friend--naturally you've seen the transmitters."

"We have them on Agron but it is of no importance."

The Vininese threw back his head and laughed, "Oh, no--of no
importance--you have seen nothing!"

"I do not understand you," Dirrul said desperately. "My Vininese is
very poor. But you must help me. I bring news of the Movement on Agron
and time is short." Anxiously Dirrul plunged into his story, tripping
repeatedly over the involved syntax of Vinin to his host's obvious
amusement.

Eventually, however, he made his point, for the tall Vininese said,
"Then you must be the agent who sent the teleray report. We've been
looking for you, sir. We feared, after you crashed, that you might
have been taken by the vagabonds." Still holding Dirrul centered in
the gunsight the Vininese picked up a portable teleray and asked for
Headquarters.

While he waited he added, "You must forgive this reception, my friend
from Agron. We have been having so much trouble with the vagabonds
lately we must all go armed. Here in the transmission area we must be
particularly alert."

His tone was warm but the gun never wavered. When he made his
connection he spoke rapidly into the mouthpiece, too rapidly for
Dirrul to work out an accurate translation. It seemed, however, that
the conversation was centered around the transmitters rather than the
report Dirrul had to make. The Vininese finished the dialogue and
smiled engagingly at Dirrul.

"I am to take you to the capital, my friend," he said. "They are
preparing a reception for you. You are a hero of Vinin, to have braved
so much for the cause."

The Vininese came forward suddenly and pulled aside the torn cloth at
the throat of Dirrul's tunic.

"But you--you must have a disk!" The Vininese was suddenly frightened.
"There is no tourist stamp on your arm. I don't understand."

"Paul Sorgel loaned me his when I left Agron." Dirrul felt in his
tunic pocket. "He said I was to give it to the Chief when I made my
report but if you must see it now--"

"No, no--by all means, keep it." The tall man'