"That's right," said Gus, "and I'm fixing to go over into Thirty-seven and yank Bud up by the roots." He took a jolt of liquor. "Yes, sir, I sure aim to crucify him." His eyes lighted on Miss Henrietta Perkins. "Visitor?" he asked. "She's from the government," said Moe. "Revenuer?" "Nope. From the welfare outfit. Aims to help you fellows out. Says there ain't no sense in you boys in Twenty-three all the time fighting with the gang from Thirty-seven." Gus stared in disbelief. Moe tried to be helpful. "She wants you to play games." Gus strangled on his drink, clawed for air, wiped his eyes. "So that's why you asked me over here. Another of your danged peace parleys. Come and talk things over, you said. So I came." "There's something in what she says," defended Moe. "You ring-rats been ripping up space for a long time now. Time you growed up and settled down. You're aiming on going over right now and pulverizing Bud. It won't do you any good." "I'll get a heap of satisfaction out of it," insisted Gus. "And, besides, I'll get my injector back. Might even take a few things off Bud's ship. Some of the parts on mine are wearing kind of thin." Gus took another drink, glowering at Miss Perkins. "So the government sent you out to make us respectable," he said. "Merely to help you, Mr. Hamilton," she declared. "To turn your hatreds into healthy competition." "Games, eh?" said Gus. "Maybe you got something, after all. Maybe we could fix up some kind of game...." "Forget it, Gus," warned Moe. "If you're thinking of energy guns at fifty paces, it's out. Miss Perkins won't stand for anything like that." * * * * * Gus wiped his whiskers and looked hurt. "Nothing of the sort," he denied. "Dang it, you must think I ain't got no sportsmanship at all. I was thinking of a real sport. A game they play back on Earth and Mars. Read about it in my papers. Follow the teams, I do. Always wanted to see a game, but never did." Miss Perkins beamed. "What game is it, Mr. Hamilton?" "Space polo," said Gus. "Why, how wonderful," simpered Miss Perkins. "And you boys have the spaceships to play it with." Moe looked alarmed. "Miss Perkins," he warned, "don't let him talk you into it." "You shut your trap," snapped Gus. "She wants us to play games, don't she. Well, polo is a game. A nice, respectable game. Played in the best society." "It wouldn't be no nice, respectable game the way you fellows would play it," predicted Moe. "It would turn into mass murder. Wouldn't be one of you who wouldn't be planning on getting even with someone else, once you got him in the open." Miss Perkins gasped. "Why, I'm sure they wouldn't!" "Of course we wouldn't," declared Gus, solemn as an owl.