I was already pretty much in hock after paying the fare to Polaris III from Earth. (I'd been able to save a little by listing Mimp as baggage, and storing him in the hold for the flight.) Angry, irked, and pretty well enraged, I moved swiftly toward the hut on hands and knees, scuttling in the doorway as fast as I could, lest the herd see me and flee, or attack. * * * * * In the parlor, I stood erect, and glanced about. There was no one in sight, but the back door was open. "_Mimp!_" I bellowed, stamping across the carpet. "Where are you, you off-color blemish!?" No reply. "This means six stripes with the knout!" I warned him. Then I heard a faint sound, not unlike that of a fourteen-inch bolo knife being brought down hard upon the inflating-valve of a pseudolog hut. I felt at my belt. My bolo was missing. "Mimp!" I hollered, much too late. Then the whole damned room, piano, fireplace, carpet, armchair and all, snapped in upon me, and I was wound up with those rubberized walls tighter than the center of a golfball. I think I must have swooned, then. Much, much later, by dint of tooth, fingernail and sheer grit, I had gnawed, clawed and wrenched my way free of the collapsed hut. A stunning sight met my eyes. All about the waterhole, the flying tuskers were still kneeling. Every one of them was dead and already beginning to rot. But the infuriating thing was that not one of them had so much as an inch of tusk any more. Every beast had been detusked, the priceless pearl shafts lopped off flush with the thick gray hides. _Mimp!_ And with _my_ bolo knife, already! At least he'd left me a canteen. I tasted it. _Pffaugh!_ Pink Polaris III slop! The dirty little--! But I saved it anyhow. I had a long lonely walk back to town ahead of me. And there it was that I learned even worse news. Mimp had already sold the tusks and was on his way back to Andromeda, with a fortune in his breechclout. I swore revenge, then and there, but was unable to carry it out, since I was short the rocketfare back to Earth and the authorities. (It seems that Polaris III is a neutral planet. Even the mighty word "Earthman" carries no weight there.) So I had to hock the piano, my precious Moxley .55 and what could be salvaged of the souffle, and even then I was only able to book passage as near Earth as Sirius II. Luckily, they had a consulate there. I was able to secure a ride home, after some weeks' wait. By then, however, it was too late to avenge myself. Mimp, with his stolen fortune, had paid off his planet's debt to Earth. Andromeda IV (his home planet) declared its independence, and the Earth authorities throw up their hands and shrug whenever I hint at extraditing him. Seems he's the new emperor there, or something. They can't afford to antagonize him. Damn!