He tossed the tobaccolette away before it was half empty and began to pace the floor nervously. He went to the washstand and brushed the stain of the tobaccolette from his teeth. He made a test of the air, and smiled a little as he noted that the oxygen content was well above par. He examined the weeds, and removed a sickly looking frond or two. But his mind was not on his work, and he soon resumed his uneasy pacing. And then there was a knock on the door. His heart flew into his mouth; he glanced around to see if there was any place to flee, and then called out weakly: "Who's there?" "It's me--Gilligan," came the sharp voice of the mate, and Manool's panic became, if possible, greater. "What--what do you want?" he stammered. Gilligan's voice grew even sharper. "What's the matter with you, Manool?" he snapped. "Lemme in. I want to have a talk with you." Manool was trembling violently, but he moved forward and unlatched the door. The tall abnormally-thin mate strode in, a sort of ingratiating smile hovering over his face. "Nice little place you got here, Manool," he said with a forced smile. "Too bad I never had a chance to visit you here before." He strode over to Manool's stool, the only seat in the "farm," and took possession of it. He looked about him, glanced at Manool once or twice and gradually his smile became more natural. "Manool," he said, "you're an officer of sorts, maybe only a warrant officer, but still--you eat with them, so I've been considering you as an officer. But--well, I like you, Manool, and--you've heard more than you should, I believe, so I've come to have a little _talk_ with you." * * * * * He lowered his voice and looked around warily before he continued. Then, "Manool," he said. "I'm going to make things plain. You heard me talkin' to Larry, a while ago, and you must be suspicious. Well, your suspicion is right. There's going to be mutiny aboard this hunk of fireworks and Cap Tarrant is going to lose his job. Know why? 'Cause I'm one of Huddersfield's men, and I've been working to seize this ship for eight months." Manool shuddered. "Huddersfield, the Cerean?" he asked. "The very same! Huddersfield has seized an asteroid and intends to start a fleet of rockets. He's got a couple already and this'll be his third. When we get enough, things'll pop, I'll tell you. "Now listen, Manool--you can throw in with us and go in for Huddersfield, or you can run and tell Cap Tarrant--and get your bloody knob knocked off when we take the ship. 'Cause the men are all with me, Manool, all of 'em, and there ain't a chance of Tarrant winning if it comes to battle." He stopped, evidently waiting for Manool to speak. The little farmer looked up miserably. "But--what can I do?" he cried, plaintively. "Me, I ain't no fighter, Gilligan. You don't want me for a fighter in your crew."