The bartender eyed him peculiarly. "Where's this Kentucky and what's a mint-julep?" "On Terra, of course, where I came from. Where'd you think it was, on Andromeda Seven?" "Pardon me, sir. I seem to remember now, having heard of such a drink. I'll have to look it up in the recipe-book--I disremember the ingredients." Hanlon grinned and lost his appearance of truculence. "It's partly made of Blue Grass, like a 'horse's neck.' But if it's too much trouble, just give me a Cola." The barkeep grinned, too. "I gotcha, Steve," and poured out the soft drink. Hanlon sat sipping his innocuous drink, looking about him quietly. A large-sized crowd was beginning to fill the place--well-dressed, evidently fairly prosperous people, but he could see that they were not the real upper-class, but the slightly-off-shade climbers. His drink finished Hanlon signalled his friendly barman. "The grub here any good? This looks like a nice place." "Yes, it is. One often hears some interesting things here. As for the food, it is very good, and not too expensive. They have a native fowl much like chicken I think you'd like. Ask for _poyka_, in whatever style you like it fixed. Glad to be of service, sir, any time, in any way." The last words were slightly emphasized. Hanlon had ordered and was waiting for his food when a man he had never seen before slipped into the seat opposite him. "The Boss wants to see you." "Yeah?" Hanlon looked him up and down almost contemptuously. "Just who is this 'boss' who's interested in me?" "Cut the clowning. You know who. At the Bacchus. Now!" "So." Hanlon let himself appear slightly interested. "Well, after I get through eating, if nothing else shows up to interest me more, I might drop over." "You'd better, and mighty quick, too!" the man snapped, although it was apparent he was puzzled by Hanlon's manner. "He don't like to be kept waiting." "And I don't like to be hurried--or ordered about!" Hanlon snapped back. "If I come, and notice I said 'if,' I'll be there in about an hour. Now, do you mind? I like to enjoy my food." The man rose, still with that perplexed expression. It was evident he was not used to people not jumping when his "Boss" issued invitations--which were really commands. He shook his head slowly. "I hope for your sake he's in a good humor," he said as he left. Hanlon's mind was not too easy as he ate swiftly, and his relish of the excellent food was not as keen as it might have been but for this interruption. He shivered, remembering that cold ruthlessness he had sensed behind that leader's suave manner. But he had to play out his string as a somewhat brash youngster who wasn't afraid of anybody or anything. He had made a clean score with that reckless "can you dish it out, Mister?" but he had better not press his luck too far. Thus it was only about half an hour later when he presented himself at the Bacchus. "You took your time coming," the leader looked at Hanlon curiously.