Well, that was it. I hadn't any more got up to the bar and told Sam, "Let me have some of this Martian _woji_ I've been hearing so much about," when I heard somebody yelp, "It's Nap! I'll be a grinning _makron_ if it isn't Nap!" I turned around and there was Mike Holiday, as big as life and twice as drunk. He waddled his bulk over to me--Mike always waddles when he's soused--from the table where he'd been sitting. "By the Holy Jumping Wodo," he crowed, "I'll bet my left arm you came to get a zloor." I'd been grinning and holding out my hand to clasp his, but that stiffened me. He saw it and began to laugh uproariously. "Another joiner of the club!" he yelped. "Come on over and meet your fellow members. You got one of them Westley contracts too?" That did it. I went over and met the boys. Mike Holiday wasn't the only acquaintance of mine in Fort Mars. In fact, it was like a convention of the outstanding professional hunters of Earth. They all shouted their greetings, some of them laughing so hard tears rolled down their cheeks. Evidently they got a big kick every time a newcomer was added to their ranks. I shook hands with some, but most were too hilarious to go through the ceremony. Blackie Conover yelled, "I'll bet anybody two to one he brought a .22 Hornet to shoot himself a zloor. Two to one!" "Do we look like suckers?" Mike yelled back at him. I sank into a chair and took it for awhile. "I can wait," I growled at them. "Sooner or later somebody'll get around to telling me what goes on." "He can wait, he says," Doughbelly fairly yelped in delight. "Brother, he ain't just a whistlin' _Terra Forever_, he can wait! Bring on the woji! Start the initiation!" * * * * * I woke up in the morning in Mike Holiday's apartment. I groaned and told myself that I was sworn off of woji for all time.--I didn't know then that Terra-side liquor sold for ten credits a bottle. Mike was grinning down at me. "You'll get used to woji," he said. "I should live so long," I moaned. Then I sat up suddenly in the bed. "You guys wouldn't tell me anything last night," I said. He was still grinning. "That's part of the initiation into the Zloor Club. What'd'ya want to know, Nap?" I swung my feet over the side of the bed and came to a sitting position. I groaned and shook my head in an attempt to clear it. "What are half the professional hunters I know doing on Mars?" He spun a chair around so that the back faced me, and straddled it, his arms resting on the top rung. "Same thing you are, Nap. Being suckers for that _makron_ Westley Marks." I started to say something there but he interrupted me with a wave of a hand. "This is what it boils down to. Marks has a contract with some branch of the government to bring back one or more zloors. And don't ask me why he doesn't go out and catch one himself--he's tried." "He has, eh?"