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the pulpy body twisted and the
beak snapped just short of Retief's knee with a report like a hardshot. Retief
scooped up a handful of the tud's gruelly substance and deposited it on the
glistening eye, which dissolved, bubbling, into a blackish-purple pit. The zuzz
went into a frenzied struggle which tossed the tigress clear. Gertrude landed
on her feet and after a few swift licks to smooth her rumpled pelt, stood
calmly awaiting Retief's pat. In its struggles, the zuzz had hurled itself
squarely onto the greedy surface of the tud, which engulfed it eagerly,
spitting out only the horny beak, then contracting to a lumpy sphere which
rolled into deep shadow. Giving Gertrude a final pat, Retief took from the breast
pocket of his blazer (early late morning; informal, middle three grades, for
the use of) the replica fountain pen he had received as lagniappe after
the signing of the Terran-Yalcan accord in '76, went to the nearest splashed-off gob of the tud's glutinous substance,
and sucked up a sample into the pen's bladder.
                Meanwhile,
Yong had cautiously picked his way around the now quiescent tud to rejoin
Retief.
                "Now
that you've fed it a square meal, it'll lie up all day," the local feline
informed his guest. "You know," he added, eyeing Retief obliquely,
"I guess in your own way, you Terries ain't so soft, after all. When you
dumped that load on old zuzz's eyeball, I wouldn'ta missed that for my next two
step-increases. Come on, we got ground to cover." He edged over beside the
tigress.
                "You
OK, kid?" he inquired solicitously. Gertrude replied with a saucy twitch
of her ears and a jaw-cracking yawn.
                "Sure,
play it cool," Yong muttered as he fell back beside Retief. "You
know," he confided, "some dames got to act like they're too good for
a fellow— but she don't fool me: she's got eyes for me."
                "No
doubt," Retief replied. "But she's shy—not used to all this
excitement."
                "I
shoulda figured," Yong conceded apologetically. For a few moments they
moved along the well-marked trail in silence. "We'll hit the main trail in
a couple o' them trices," Yong informed Retief. "Then a brisk
half-hour's walk and we'll be at the Big Market, where I betcha I can show you
and the lady here a few sights most foreigners never get to see. But play 'em
close to the chest; there's plenty o' Glorbs hangs around the market and some
of 'em are government finks, on the lookout for the dodges and all, and lately,
there's been a bunch of military personnel. Me, I'm easygoing: I don't like
'em, but I don't bother 'em— long as they don't start on me."
                When
they reached the intersection with the main trail, Retief resumed his seat
astride the big cat, while Gertrude paced alongside, wrinkling her nose at
strange odors. Once, a hard-shelled, many-legged creature the size of a small
dog leapt at her face, toothed claws cocked; she batted it aside casually.
Yong, watching from the corner of his eye, exclaimed in admiration.
                "You
got to be fast to beat a rulp to the punch," he declared. "That Gertrude
is something else," he confided to Retief, who agreed solemnly.
                After
a fast sprint along the wide trail, Yong slowed and turned his head to counsel
Retief:
                "Heads
up, Terry. We hit the main drag in another hundred feet, and there's likely to
be some Glorbs hanging around, looking for trouble." As good as his word,
moments later Yong burst into a clearing from which debouched half a dozen
well-marked trails. Around the mouth of the widest, half a dozen squat gray
Glorbs stood in a tight conversational group. They turned as one, drawing
together as Yong skidded to a halt beside them. A terse conversation in the
local bech-de-mer followed, the Glorbs demanding, Yong interpolating
conciliatorily. After a pause, the Vang