"So I'm the primitive savage!" Hawthorne doubled in laughter. "You're the one who acted intelligent like a guinea pig tonight!" "Laugh, you ape!" O'Dea groaned and moved his jaw tenderly. "Not broken, I guess. But Morguma sure packs _quintol_ in those cornerstones he uses for fists. All twelve of them!" "_Quintol_--that's it." Hawthorne pulled a bottle from under his shirt. He looked patronizingly at O'Dea. "There's enough _quintol_ here to get four Centaurs blind drunk!" "Well, start slopping it up, slop!" "This bottle," said Hawthorne patiently, "is our dictator's birthday present to our friend Morguma. The Centaurs will appreciate such a gesture of friendship!" O'Dea stared through unbelieving black eyes at him. "Why, you--rat!--" "Tomorrow," Hawthorne went on, "is a holiday. Nobody works except us. That's as a token of interstellar good will. We work and the Centaurs rest--except our good friend Morguma, who will be along to keep an eye on us. Morguma deserves a little fun, too." O'Dea crawled out of his bunk and advanced with hard fists. He was promptly shoved back by the grinning Hawthorne. "Don't you see?" Hawthorne demanded. "We get Morguma so pie-eyed he won't know what's going on. Then--" He drew a stubby forefinger across his throat and made a croaking noise. O'Dea pried his puffed eyelids apart and beamed in pleased understanding. His lips parted slowly in a grin that would have done credit to a Centaur. "Oh, I am ecstatic!" he said. * * * * * Morguma was ecstatic when he received his present. Tears of happiness gushed down his cheeks as O'Dea presented the vacuum bottle with a flowery oration. He seemed to have forgotten the incident of the previous night, and took no notice of O'Dea's bruised features. The happy creature crushed O'Dea to his bosom with several bear-like arms. "Oh my dear bosom friends! My heart would swell with song if I were able to sing! Oh you fortunate humans, to be able to sing!" O'Dea broke loose from the embrace and rubbed his ribs. He looked cheerfully at Hawthorne. "As soon as he's _non compos mentis_," he whispered, "we'll slug the lug, and--" "Shut up," Hawthorne growled softly. "You'll queer everything." The pilot took his place at the control board and they pushed out to the asteroid belt. Morguma settled himself in his usual chair at the rear of the control room and tantalized himself by smelling the _quintol_. "Oh how wonderful!" he enthused. "Aged in the bottle, too! How I love humans!" O'Dea glanced impatiently from the corner of his eye. The Centaur was in no hurry to consume the _quintol_. They were approaching the asteroid belt before he had put much inside him. The two men stalled by chasing down worthless rocks until half the liquor was inside the Centaur. Morguma's six eyes gradually became glassier and glassier. He started to sway a little in his chair.