"Penger, I'm an Earthman! I'm asking you as one Earthman to another--" Latham stopped. He shivered. He looked into Penger's colorless eyes and what he saw made his soul curl up within him. "You're a what? An Earthman? You _were_ an Earthman! Now you're a grubby little specimen of the genus tsith! You're a miserable, whining little speck of matter wriggling toward the final transfixation! In another year you won't even be that. You'll be dead and forgotten. Don't come crawling to me talking about Earthmen!" The voice scraped across Latham's naked nerve-ends. Penger's eyes blazed, and in his trembling anger he almost raised a fist. Latham cringed away. From out of his forgotten past something came to Latham. He stared at the loom of jungle where Kueelo and the Jovian had disappeared. "I've seen the day," he complained miserably, "when they wouldn't get away with this!" "You've seen the day--period!" "I'm asking you once more, Penger. Help me! At least give me back the dis-gun." "The dis-gun? Now what would you want with the dis-gun? You'd only come trading it back to me. You bring in the draanga-weed, that's all I'm interested in! And if you work especially hard, there'll be some tsith--enough for your needs." Latham's eyes went fever-bright. His lips writhed back, a fit of trembling took possession of his limbs. Almost, he succumbed to the immediate vision of the tsith; almost, he forgot about the Josmian. But somewhere deep in his alchemy was a well of stubbornness he never knew he possessed. He clutched at Penger's sleeve as the man turned away. He found himself screaming, "Then I'll go without the gun! I'm going to get that Josmian, do you hear? You'll believe me then! You'll believe when you see it, Penger!" Penger shook him away. "Sure, sure. You bring me a Josmian. Then we'll talk a deal." He wanted to ask for a drink, just one drink of tsith right now, but Latham had learned the essential fact that there could be no compromising with this man. He reeled away. His brief outburst had left him weak and trembling. Nevertheless, he went stumbling toward the looming wall of jungle. He heard Penger's voice, a little annoyed: "Where are you going?" Latham stumbled on. "You fool, you don't know these jungles! You'll die in there! You won't last an hour!" Latham didn't look back. Penger didn't call again. Latham could almost imagine the man's shrug of indifference. Vision stopped five yards away. A soft glutinous muck, worse than the outer swamp, tugged at his ankles. Corrupt fungi-growth and giant spiked ferns reached far above him in the blanketing fog.