The Village Officer was a taller man than the other villagers, though nowhere near as big a man as Hale. His full beard was slightly touched with gray, and there was a streak of silver at each temple. His eyes were dark, and a hawkish nose protruded from his face, almost overshadowing the beard. "I am Yon the Fisher," he announced. "And you?" He stood outside the iron door, looking in through the open grillwork. "Leland Hale. I've come here to hear your terms." "They are the same," said Yon. "Repair my spaceship. Use replacement parts from your own, if necessary. In return, I and my men will take you to a planet where there is a space-port." "_Your_ spaceship?" Hale asked pointedly. Yon's bearded visage smiled a little. "Mine. I bought it legally from Dornis the Fat ten years ago. It fell on his land, therefore, by law, it was his to sell." "What about the crew?" Hale asked. "It was their ship." "True. Unfortunately, they died--ah--intestate. The property therefore reverted to our legal government. But our aged Commander would have nothing to do with it, so he ruled that it was the lawful property of Dornis the Fat." "Very neatly done," said Hale in honest admiration. "All legally sewed up." He knew the claim wouldn't stand up in a court of interstellar law, but he recognized the machinations of a fellow con man when he saw them. "Thank you," said Yon the Fisher. "Now let's get down to business. You came here for a reason, I assume. Is it a deal, or isn't it? I can be patient; I am on my own home planet. You, on the other hand, have been virtually prisoners for twelve years." "True," agreed Hale. "I think we can make some sort of agreement along those lines. I was sent to look at your ship." Yon the Fisher pondered this for a moment, then countered with: "Why?" "We have to know how badly it's damaged. If it can't be repaired, there's no sense in making any kind of deal, is there?" "I see. Very well. We will go to my ship. However, we will have to take precautions. You understand, I'm sure." "Naturally," Hale said. Hale's hands were bound behind him, and the guard with the gun followed directly behind him. There are no animals fit for riding purposes which are native to Cardigan's Green, and eking out a bare living from the planet left the colonists no time to develop mechanical aids to transportation. They walked. Several hours later, Leland Hale was inside the hull of the freighter _Morris_. Under the watchful eye of Yon and his myrmidons, Hale went over the whole vessel, saying as little as possible, and evading the questions that were put to him. When he was finished, his face wore a speculative look, but inside he was feeling positively gleeful. In an hour, at the very most, he, alone, could put the vessel in working order! The original crew of the _Morris_ had almost finished their work when they succumbed to the Plague. Surely there must be some way he could turn this to his advantage!