"Well, now, Pete, I like your spirit, like I say. But if you are really interested in making some of that old baroom, and I think you are, then listen--" "I'll sell prints to people for home viewing," went on Matheny. "I'd like your opinion of this first effort." He dimmed the transparency and started the projector. The screen sprang into colored motion. Sam Wendt blocked the doorway with his shoulders. "Who knows, I might even sell you one of the several prints I made today," said Matheny. "Okay, louse," said Sam. "Life is hard on Mars," commented Matheny in an idle tone, "and we're an individualistic culture. The result is pretty fierce competition, though on a person-to-person rather than organizational basis. All friendly enough, but--Oh, by the way, how do you like our Martian camera technology? I wore this one inside my buttonhole." Doran in the screen shrugged and said: "I am sorry, Pete." Doran in the chair stubbed out his cigarette, very carefully, and asked, "How much do you want for that film?" "Would a megabuck be a fair price?" inquired Matheny. "Uh ... huh." "Of course, I am hoping Sam will want a copy too." Doran swallowed. "Yeah. Yes, I think I can talk him into it." "Good." Matheny stopped the projector. He sat down on the edge of the table, swinging one leg, and lit his pipe. Its bowl glowed in the dimness like the eye of a small demon. "By the way," he said irrelevantly, "if you check the newscast tapes, you'll find I was runner-up in last year's all-Martian pistol contest. It's a tough contest to win. There are no bad shots on Mars--survival of the fittest, you know." * * * * * Doran wet his lips. "Uh, no hard feelings. No, none at all. But say, in case you are, well, you know, looking for a slipstring, what I came here for was to tell you I have located the very guy you want. Only he is in jail right now, see, and it will cost--" "Oh, no!" groaned Matheny. "Not the Syrtis Prospector! Kids are taught that swindle in kindergarten." Doran bowed his head. "We call it the Spanish Prisoner here," he said. He got up. "I will send the price of those films around in the morning." "You'll call your bank and have the cash pneumoed here tonight," said Matheny. "Also Sam's share. I daresay he can pay you back." "No harm in trying, was there?" asked Doran humbly. "None at all." Matheny chuckled. "In fact, I'm grateful to you. You helped me solve my major problem." "Huh? I did what? How?"