And Don Channing said to Walt Franks: "Until we find a medium of exchange, there'll be the devil to pay and no pitch hot." Walt nodded. "I'm glad we're out here with our little colony instead of where lots and lots of people can come storming at the gates demanding that we _do_ something. Hope Keg Johnson is holding his own at Fabriville." * * * * * It was a growling mob that tramped across the desert toward Fabriville. A growling, quarreling mob, that fought in its own ranks and stole from its own men. A hungry, cold, and frightened mob that followed a blustering man named Norton, who had promised them peace and plenty if they did his bidding. His law did not include sharing among themselves, and so men fought and stole food and clothing and women. Had the mob been anything but a shaggy, travel-weary band, Fabriville might have been wiped from the face of Mars. It swept forward without form and like an ocean wave, it laved against the cyclone fencing that surrounded that part of Fabriville and was repulsed. A determined, well-fed band would have crushed the fencing, but this was a dispirited mob that would have sold its leader for a square meal and would have worked for the promise of a second meal in a row. Keg Johnson came to the edge of Fabriville in a medium-sized tank that could withstand the entire mob to the last man. He ran the tank out of the gate and right to the edge of the mob, who shrank back to permit the thundering monster to pass. He stopped the tank and stood up in the top turret and spoke. A built-in amplifier carried his voice to the edge of the mob. "Who is your leader?" Norton came forward boldly. "I am." "What do you intend?" "We want a haven. We are cold and hungry and needy." Johnson nodded. "I can see that," he said dryly. "How did you collect this gang?" "Most of this outfit were caught in the crash. Their incomes did not permit them to buy duplicators, and their friends were too busy running up their money to hand any out." "Fine friends." "And in the smaller cities, the attendants at the power stations left. There are a horde of dead towns on Mars today. That is why we have come here. We know that Fabriville is self-sufficient. We intend to join you." "Sorry," said Keg. "We have no openings." "We'll join you by force, if need be." "Want to try it?" asked Keg, patting the twin 105-mm. short rifles that looked out over the mob. No answer for a moment. "I'll try appealing to your better nature," said Norton softly. "Shall we starve and shiver while Fabriville eats and is warm?" "How willing are you to take part?" asked Keg. "Name it." "Then listen. We need a more sturdy fence around Fabriville. We have the material--who hasn't?--but we have not the manpower. Get your mob to run up this fence, Norton, and I'll see that you are paid by giving each and every man a household-size duplicator complete with a set of household recordings. Is that a deal?"