"I can and must," Williams 4 said sadly. "I am only a robot, Mr. Morrison. I was made by men, and naturally I partake of some of their sensibilities. That's as it should be. But I also have my limits, which, in their nature, are similar to the limits most humans have on this harsh planet. And, unlike humans, I cannot transcend my limits." The robot started to climb into the whirlpool. Morrison stared at him blankly, and saw beyond him the waiting wolfpack. He saw the soft glow of several million dollars' worth of goldenstone shining from the ravine's walls. Something snapped inside him. * * * * * With an inarticulate yell, Morrison dived, tackling the robot around the ankles. Williams 4, half in and half out of the 'porting vortex, struggled and kicked, and almost succeeded in shaking Morrison loose. But with a maniac's strength Morrison held on. Inch by inch he dragged the robot out of the vortex, threw him on the ground and pinned him. "You are disrupting the mail service," said Williams 4. "That's not all I'm going to disrupt," Morrison growled. "I'm not afraid of dying. That was part of the gamble. But I'm damned if I'm going to die fifteen minutes after I've struck it rich!" "You have no choice." "I do. I'm going to use that emergency telephone of yours." "You can't," Williams 4 said. "I refuse to extrude it. And you could never reach it without the resources of a machine shop." "Could be," said Morrison. "I plan to find out." He pulled out his empty revolver. "What are you going to do?" Williams 4 asked. "I'm going to see if I can smash you into scrap metal _without_ the resources of a machine shop. I think your eyecells would be a logical place to begin." "They would indeed," said the robot. "I have no personal sense of survival, of course. But let me point out that you would be leaving all Venus without a postman. Many would suffer because of your anti-social action." "I hope so," Morrison said, raising the revolver above his head. "Also," the robot said hastily, "you would be destroying government property. That is a serious offense." Morrison laughed and swung the pistol. The robot moved its head quickly, dodging the blow. It tried to wriggle free, but Morrison's two hundred pounds was seated firmly on its thorax. "I won't miss this time," Morrison promised, hefting the revolver. "Stop!" Williams 4 said. "It is my duty to protect government property, even if that property happens to be myself. You may use my telephone, Mr. Morrison. Bear in mind that this offense is punishable by a sentence of not more than ten and not less than five years in the Solar Swamp Penitentiary." "Let's have that telephone," Morrison said. * * * * * The robot's chest opened and a small telephone extruded. Morrison dialed Max Krandall and explained the situation.