"Yes, biologically," Cole said, surprised. "But in our case a varying part of the greater animal is carried in our culture, our symbol system, and is not directly dependent on biomass. A mathematical anthropologist could tell you more than I can." Bidgrass placed his hands palm down on the table and leaned back in sudden resolution. "Mr. Cole, you force me to tell you something I had been minded to hold back. I already know a good part of what you have just told me. I _wish_ to exterminate the stompers and I will do so. But I meant for you to go back to Belconti thinking it was the piskies." Cole propped his chin on folded hands and raised his eyebrows. "I half suspected that. But I fooled you, didn't I?" "Yes, and I admire you for it. Now let me tell you more. Stomper egg brings a very high price and I have kept it higher by storing large reserves. When it is known the stomper is extinct, the rarity value of my reserve will be enormous. It will mean an end of this harsh life for me and for my grandniece after me." Cole's lip curled, and red mounted in the old man's face as he talked, but he went on doggedly. "I want the pisky theory and the news of stomper extinction to be released through Belconti University. The news will spread faster and be more readily believed and I will avoid a certain moral stigma--" "And now I've crossed you up!" "You can still do it. I can ease your conscience with a settlement of--say--five thousand solars a year for life." Cole leaped up and leaned across the table. "No!" he snapped. "Old man, you don't know how ecologists feel about the greed-murder of species. What I _will_ do is work through Belconti on your government at Car Truro, warn it that you are about to destroy an important planetary resource." Bidgrass stood up too, scowling darkly red. "Not so fast, young fellow. I have copies of your early notes in which you call the piskies the critical limit factor in stomper extinction. Almost three hundred people were killed in that stomper attack, and you could easily have been one of them. If you had, I would naturally have reported it via the next _Gorbals_ to Belconti and sent along your notes to date--do you follow me?" "Yes. A threat." "A counter-threat. Think it over for a few days, Mr. Cole." * * * * * Cole sat glumly in his room waiting for his dinner and wondering if it would be poisoned. When old Hawkins tapped, he pulled open the door, only to find Pia instead with a service for two. She was rosy and smiling in a low-cut, off-shoulder brown dress he had not seen before. "May I eat dinner with you tonight, Flinter?" she asked. "Please do," he said, startled. "Am I people now, or something?" "Uncle Garth says now that you know--" She broke off, blushing still more. "I don't like what I know," he said somberly, "but it's not you, Pia. Here, let me."