He didn't like me any better than I liked him, that was obvious. He said, "This comes under the heading of work for the government." I told him, "There are other professional hunters. Some of them nearly as good as I am." The last was sarcastic. "Possibly better," he said, "but none of them are your size." * * * * * I could feel my face approaching the color of my hair at that one. "Keep my size out of it," I snapped. I indicated with a thumb a little statuette on my desk. "The guy my mother named me after was pint size too. He got along all right." He looked over at Bonaparte. "Ummm," he said. "Napoleon was a big name once--but he's only a bust now." "Listen," I told him, "you're asking for a bust yourself. Why don't you run along? I'm busy." He ignored me, found a chair that had nothing but a few magazines on it, tossed them to the floor and sat down. "Your name was brought up because you're the smallest professional hunter on Earth. It'd save a few thousand credits in getting you to Mars and back." That stopped me. "What in kert are you talking about?" I growled. "The government wants a specimen, at least one, of a zloor." "A what?" "A zloor," he repeated. "A small Martian animal." I scowled at him. "And just why does the government want a zloor?" "That's a secret." "Okay. I'll tell you another secret. Somebody else can catch the government a zloor. I've never been off Earth and I haven't any particular hankering to go now." I picked up the .257 Roberts again and reached for my oil can. He got to his feet, something just this side of a sneer on his face, and said, "I doubt if you could have got one anyway." I said easily, "If anyone else could catch it, I could." He reached for the doorknob, "I'd lay a thousand credits against _that_," he said. He began to leave. "Wait a minute, buddy," I snapped. "Are you just sounding off or have you got a thousand credits you don't care what happens to?" He turned and faced me. "I am willing to wager a thousand credits that you can't capture a zloor." "How big are they?" "About the size of a rabbit." I glowered at him. "They very fast, or very poisonous, or what?" He shrugged. "They can't run quite as fast as a common Terran hare, and I understand they're quite gentle." "Then why haven't they been captured?" "Among other things, Napoleon," he rolled my name over his tongue as though he got a big laugh from it, "there have been only a few hundred persons in all that have gone to Mars. Few of them, to my knowledge, have been interested in the life forms there. The expense of freight in space is much too high for Terran zoos to transport Martian life forms--particularly alive--considering the cost of duplicating in the space craft the living conditions necessary to--" "All right," I snapped, "just a minute." I picked up the viso-phone and dialed rapidly. In seconds, Jerry Mason's friendly pan lit up the screen.