He was confused but not on basic things. He took his money and virtually ran. Ten minutes to nine. They were closing up the passenger airlock, removing the ramp. "You know," said the detective very quietly, "my buddy is coming. He won't understand this embrace we're in. I'm quite sure he won't like it one bit." The last of the animals were being led into the livestock hold. The ranchers were dispersing. The colonizers were all aboard. We stood virtually alone beside the ship. "I am prepared to be killed," I said, "and to take you with me in the process." A police car hovered in the air beside us. "Say!" yelled its pilot. "They've found the Sponsor car over next to the Asteroid surveyor!" He pointed across the field. "They're searching the ship. We've got to help. Hop on!" I stepped back, with my hand still in my pocket. "Yes," I said, "hop on!" The detective clambered aboard the police car. He gave me a look that I'll always remember. A sort of sneer and a sort of smile. "Good luck, Simpson," he said. The police car whisked away. Five minutes to nine. I wheeled and ran to the livestock hold. The hatch was about shut and I knew it was too late. 'Goodbye, my darlings! Goodbye!' Then the hatch jammed and could not close the last six inches and I saw the reason. A steer had broken loose and charged the door. His head was caught in the opening. His neck had snapped instantly and he was dead. They re-opened the hatch long enough to fling the thousand-pound carcass onto the field. And that was all the time I needed to come aboard. A crew member hollered at me: "Do you belong here?" "Yes," I replied, "I certainly do." As I said it, the ship blasted heavenward and I was flung to the deck. I started to curse, and then I chuckled. I was stretched out ignominiously beside a cow in the fresh-smelling hay. I, Bart Sponsor, Top Competitor, starting a new life. This way! _Well Solly_, I mused, _understand the planet we're going to has lots of rocky acres._