Then I made him turn around. He saw what was there and what was there was not and had never been Ginger. He sobbed once and I led him back to the stockade. * * * * * "But I don't get it," he said later. I had given him three stiff drinks and they had helped some, but only a little. Harry needed time to think and time to forget. "What happened to the Stevensons? To Ginger?" "There weren't any Stevensons. No Ginger. Don't you remember they came right after we heard the Wompan make like a swamp-buggy?" "Yeah--" "And when we got back there was no spaceship in the stockade, right?" "Yeah--" "It was the Wompan all along. There never was a Mr. Stevenson or his daughter." "Yeah, but--" "You're thinking the Wompan needs a model?" "I guess so." "It probably had one. The Stevensons last year at Venus Joe's. Isn't that what it said--as Mr. Stevenson?" Harry agreed, but he didn't really care. He had fallen in love--with a girl who didn't exist. "Buck up," I said. "It's all right for you to say." "No. Buck up, will you?" "What for? What the hell for?" "Because Venus on the Half Shell has a chance now. Because we killed a Wompan. It's only the fourth one ever and we're going to get a lot of free publicity--which ought to make this place." "Yeah, that's true," Harry said. But his heart wasn't in it. "We'll take pictures," I said. "We'll write it up and send in into Spaceman's magazine and we'll have it made. Sportsmen will be flocking here for a crack at Wompans. No wait. I have a better idea. We'll take pictures and write it up and you'll deliver our story in person to Spaceman's magazine on Earth." "Me? I just want to be alone, Gil. I don't feel like going anywhere." I smiled. "Yes, you do. You'll deliver the pictures and the story in person--to Spaceman's outdoor editor, who the Wompan saw at Venus Joe's last year. To Jason Woods Stevenson." "Yeah," Harry said. "And maybe you'll get to meet his daughter, Ginger." "Yeah," Harry said again. But this time he was smiling.