"Shut up, Dunark! Pipe down! Don't say anything you'll be sorry for--let _me_ tell 'em! Close your mouth, I tell you!" as Dunark still tried to get a word in, "I tell you I'll tell 'em, and when I tell 'em they stay told! Now listen, you two girls--you're going off half-cocked and you're both full of little red ants. What do you think Dunark is up against? Sherman chirped it when he described war--and this is a real he-war; a brand totally unknown on our Earth. It isn't a question of whether or not to destroy a population--the only question is which population is to be destroyed. One of them's got to go. Remember those folks go into a war thoroughly, and there isn't a thought, even remotely resembling our conception of mercy in any of their minds on either side. If Dunark's plans go through the enemy nation will be wiped out. That is horrible, of course. But on the other hand, if we block him off from salt and 'X,' the entire Kondalian nation will be destroyed just as thoroughly and efficiently, and even more horribly--not one man, woman, or child would be spared. Which nation do you want saved? Play that over a couple of times on your adding machine, Dot, and let me know what you get." Dorothy, taken aback, opened and closed her mouth twice before she found her voice. "But, Dick, they couldn't possibly. Would they kill them all, Dick? Surely they wouldn't--they _couldn't_." "Surely they would--and could. They do--it's good technique in those parts of the Galaxy. Dunark has just told us of how they killed every member of the entire race of Mardonalians, in forty hours. Kondal would go the same way. Don't kid yourself, Dimples--don't be a child. War up there is _no_ species of pink tea, believe me--half of my brain has been through thirty years of Osnomian warfare, and I know precisely what I'm talking about. Let's take a vote. Personally, I'm in favor of Osnome. Mart?" "Osnome." "Dottie? Peggy?" Both remained silent for some time, then Dorothy turned to Margaret. "You tell him, Peggy--we both feel the same way." "Dick, you know that we wouldn't want the Kondalians destroyed--but the other is so--such a--well, such an utter _shrecklichkeit_--isn't there some other way out?" "I'm afraid not--but if there is any other possible way out, I'll do my da--to help find it," he promised. "The ayes have it. Dunark, we'll skip over to that 'X' planet and load you up." Dunark grasped Seaton's hand. "Thanks, Dick," he said, simply. "But before you help me farther, and lest I might be in some degree sailing under false colors, I must tell you that, wearer of the seven disks though you are, Overlord of Osnome though you are, my brain brother though you are; had you decided against me, nothing but my death could have kept me away from that salt and your 'X' compass." "Why sure," assented Seaton, in surprise. "Why not? Fair enough! Anybody would do the same--don't let that bother you." "How is your supply of platinum?" asked Dunark.