Something in his attitude stopped me. I came up beside him and growled, "What now, you _makron_?" He pointed at the news sheet which had recorded the item. _Forty-three thousand Solar System scientists working on cure for Venusian Elephantiasis._ He shrilled despairingly, "They'll have you cured in days." I snorted, "Especially since I haven't got it in the first place. Listen, what gave you the idea I wanted to get out of this fight, anyway? I'm not afraid--" He started hopping at that. "_You're_ not afraid! You're too stupid, too conceited to be afraid. _I'm_ afraid, understand? I'm your manager; I know how good a gladiator you are, and I'm afraid. I'm afraid first that you'll get killed and I'll lose the best thing I've ever had, but even more than that I'm afraid that this Solar System isn't going to be fit to live in after you lose this fight and the Centaurians take over." I growled truculently, "I can whip anybody in the Solar System and I can whip--" He flung two of his wing-arms up in despair. "We have _Slabers_, we have fast moving Spidermen, we have four armed Martians; but who do we get to represent us in the most important gladiatorial fight in history? A second-rate, inflated, balloon headed--" "Hey...." I protested indignantly. But he'd stopped of his own accord and clicked his heels in the Mercurian version of snapping of fingers in sudden inspiration. "Look," he whistled. "If they can put forty-three thousand scientists to work figuring out a way to cure a disease they think you have, why can't they put ten times that number--a thousand times--to work on some new weapons you can use against this Centaurian _makron_?" I scowled at him, not getting it. "You know better than that. In the arena the only weapons allowed are primitive ones, swords, spears, battle axes, boomerangs--" "Yes, yes," he shrilled excitedly, beginning to hop again. "But this is different. They--the Centaurians--don't know that." He clicked his heels together again. "It's the solution! We'll devise, in the next month, some sure thing weapon. You can't lose!" But I was worried more about Suzi than about the fight. I growled at him, "I don't need anything but my short sword. All I want to be sure about is that I'm in that fight, see? If I'm not I'll never see--" But he was already darting for the door. * * * * * Well, within the week the scientists had "cured" me of the disease that Mari Nown had dreamed up. I was scheduled for the fight again. But no word from Suzi. And no way of getting in touch with her. I tried everything, but Suzi just wasn't having any of me.