t was about the right weight at
that. But the range was a little more than she liked, considering the
un-incentive.

Besides, it might crack the monster's skull.

She set the pot gently down again.

"Great idea!" she said. "And I'm all finished eating."

10

Half an hour later there still hadn't been any decent openings. Trigger
was maintaining a somewhat brooding silence at the moment. Mihul, beside
her, in the driver's seat of the tiny sports hopper, chatted pleasantly
about this and that. But she didn't appear to expect any answers.

There weren't many half-hours left to be wasted.

Trigger stared thoughtfully out through the telescopic ground-view plate
before her, while the hopper soared at a thousand feet toward the
two-mile square of preserve area which had been assigned to them to hunt
over that morning. Dimly reflected in the view plate, she could see the
head of the gun-pup who went with that particular area lifted above the
seat-back behind her. He was gazing straight ahead between the two
humans, absorbed in canine reflections.

There was plenty of bird life down there. Some were original Terran
forms, maintained unchanged in the U-League's genetic banks. Probably
many more were inspired modifications produced on Grand Commerce game
ranches. At any other time, Trigger would have found herself enjoying
the outing almost as much as Mihul.

Not now. Other things kept running through her head. Money, for example.
They hadn't returned her own cash to her and apparently didn't intend
to--at least not until after the interview. But Mihul was carrying at
least part of their spending money in a hip pocket wallet. The rest of
it might be in a concealed room safe or deposited with the resort
hotel's cashier.

She glanced over at Mihul again. Good friend Mihul never before had
looked quite so large, lithe, alert and generally fit for a
rough-and-tumble. That un-incentive idea was fiendishly ingenious! It
was difficult to plan things through clearly and calmly while one's
self-esteem kept quailing at vivid visualizations of the results of
making a mistake.

The hopper settled down near the center of their territory, guided the
last half mile by Mihul who had fancied the looks of some
shrub-cluttered ravines ahead. Trigger opened the door on her side. The
gun-pup leaped lightly across the seat and came out behind her. He
turned to look over his huntresses and gave them a wag, a polite but
perfunctor