"I need tsith! And I'm going to need it worse before this day's over." Kueelo's eyes went dull again. "We both do. How do you think you're going to manage it?" "I'll show you. Never let it be said that Joel Latham was helpless in face of an emergency." With unsteady fingers he began a search of his clothes. And that's when the final realization descended upon Joel Latham. These weren't his clothes, not the ones he had when he came here. He stared into the Martian's mango-like face. "I had a lucky piece. An ancient Deimian jewel set in platinum. It's always been good for credit." Kueelo's sigh was like a wind through withered leaves. "That," he said, "was used up two nights ago." "I had a dis-gun, too! What happened to it?" "We used that up last night. Penger allowed us four drinks apiece for it." Latham nodded miserably. "The space yacht. I guess it's already gone." "Two days ago. Your fine feathered friends shunned you when they learned you were a tsith hound. But I stuck by you," Kueelo added cunningly. Latham sank heavily onto a clump of swamp grass. He stared at his right hand. It had started trembling. He couldn't stop the trembling. He wondered dully if he was frightened, or if that was a result of the terrible craving that twisted and writhed within him. He stared up into the Martian's face. "Stranded," he said weakly. "But I'll get out of here. I'll hire out on one of the freighters--" "You won't." Kueelo's voice was matter-of-fact again. "Not when they learn you're a tsith hound. And Penger will let them know, you can bet on that. He's a devil, that Penger." "But he's an Earthman, and I'm an Earthman!" Latham's voice was almost a wail. His soul was withering within him. "Tell Penger that and see what he answers you. You're on the beach, my friend. You've been there before, but this is the final beach--the swampside of Venus. And here you'll stay until Penger is ready to let you go. I've been here five years." Joel Latham put his head in his hands and tried to think. Kueelo's voice droned on: "You'll work for Penger. You'll work in the swamps. An Earthman, a Martian, a Ganymedian can do ten times the work of one of these gweels." He gestured at the pallid-faced low-Venusians who moved listlessly through the mud, pulling up the draanga-weed. "You'll work for the amount of tsith Penger portions out to you, and glad to get it." At the word _tsith_, Latham's head came up. The dawning fear was gone from his eyes. "All right! I'll do it, but only for a while, mind you! I'll find a way out of this. I'm getting back to the iridium fields on Callisto." He plunged wildly into the mud and sank to his waist. But it was the thought of tsith that drove him on, not Callisto. Kueelo stood by and watched, a thin, knowing smile creasing his leathery lips. A sort of frenzy had come upon Joel Latham. He tore at the stubborn draanga-weed and brought it up dripping, tossing the long lengths across his shoulder. He knew of this stuff.