"Wait!" Morrison cried. "I can pay as soon as I reach your office. But I must make one telephone call. Just one call, so that I--" "Not a chance," Mr. Boyard said decisively. "_After_ you have paid your bill, your service will be turned on immediately." "I've got the money right here!" Morrison said. "Right here in my hand!" Mr. Boyard paused. "Well, it's unusual, but I suppose we could arrange for a special robot messenger if you are willing to pay the expenses." "I am!" "Hm. It's irregular, but I daresay we ... Where is the money?" "Right here," Morrison said. "You recognize it, don't you? It's goldenstone!" "I am sick and tired of the tricks you prospectors think you can put over on us. Holding up a handful of pebbles--" "But this is really goldenstone! Can't you see it?" "I am a businessman," Mr. Boyard said, "not a jeweler. I wouldn't know goldenstone from goldenrod." The video screen went blank. * * * * * Frantically, Morrison tried to reach the operator. There was nothing, not even a dial tone. His telephone was disconnected. He put the instrument down and surveyed his situation. The narrow crevice into which he had fallen ran straight for about twenty yards, then curved to the left. No cave was visible in the steep walls, no place where he could build a barricade. He heard a movement behind him. Whirling around, he saw a huge old wolf in full charge. Without a moment's hesitation, Morrison drew and fired, blasting off the top of the beast's head. "Damn it," Morrison said. "I was going to save that bullet for myself." It gave him a moment's grace. He ran down the ravine, looking for an opening in its sides. Goldenstone glowed at him and sparkled red and purple. And the sandwolves loped along behind him. Then Morrison stopped. In front of him, the curving ravine ended in a sheer wall. He put his back against it, holding the revolver by its butt. The wolves stopped five feet from him, gathering themselves for a rush. There were ten or twelve of them, and they were packed three deep in the narrow pass. Overhead, the kites circled, waiting for their turn. At that moment, Morrison heard the crackling sound of 'porting equipment. A whirlpool appeared above the wolves' heads and they backed hastily away. "Just in time!" Morrison said. "In time for what?" asked Williams 4, the postman. The robot climbed out of the vortex and looked around. "Well, young man," Williams 4 said, "this is a fine fix you've gotten yourself into. Didn't I warn you? Didn't I advise you to turn back? And now look!" "You were perfectly right," Morrison said. "What did Max Krandall send me?" "Max Krandall did not, and could not, send a thing." "Then why are you here?" "Because it's your birthday," Williams 4 said. "We of the Postal Department always give special service for birthdays. Here you are."