See the Ancient Martian Ruins!!!

Pollux looked at it. "He's a fast operator, allright. Maybe you should have insisted on a partnership."

"Don't be greedy. We turned a profit, didn't we?"

"I told you we would. Well, let's get Fuzzy Britches home to Buster."

Fuzzy Britches was not an immediate success with Lowell. "Where its legs?" he said darkly. "If it's a Martian, it ought to have three legs."

"Well," argued Castor, "some Martians don't have legs."

"Prove it!"

"This one doesn't That proves it"

Meade picked Fuzzy Britches up; it immediately began to buzz - whereupon Lowell demanded to hold it Meade passed it over. "I don't see," she remarked, "why anything as helpless as that would have such bright colors."

"Think again, honey lamb," advised Hazel. "Put that thing out on the desert sand and you would lose it at ten feet, Which might be a good idea."

"No!" answered Lowell.

""No" what, dear?"

"Don't you lose Fuzzy Britches. He's mine." The child left carrying the flat cat and cooing a lullaby to it. Fuzzy Britches might lack legs but it knew how to win friends; anyone who picked it up hated to put it down. There was something intensely satisfying about petting the furry thing. Hazel tried to analyse it but could not.

No one knew when the quarantine of the War God would be lifted. Therefore Meade was much surprised one morning to return to Casa Mañana and fined her father in the general room. "Daddy!" she yelled, swarming over him. "When did you get down?.

"Just now."

"Mummy, too?"

"Yes. She's in the 'fresher."

Lowell stood in the doorway, watching them impassively. Roger Stone loosed himself from his daughter and said, "Good morning, Buster."

"Good morning, Daddy. This is Fuzzy Britches. He's a Martian. He's also a flat cat."

"Glad to know you, Fuzzy Britches. Did you say "flat cat"?"

"Yes."

"Very well. But it looks more like a wig."

Dr. Stone entered, was subjected to the same treatment by Meade, then turned to Lowell. He permitted her to kiss him, then said, "Mama, this is Fuzzy Britches. Say hello to him."

"How do you do, Fuzzy Britches? Meade, where are your brothers? And your grandmother?"

Meade looked upset. "I was afraid you would get around to that. The twins are in jail again."

Roger Stone groaned. "Oh, no, not again! Edith, we should have stayed on Phobos."

"Yes, dear."

"Well, let's face it What is the charge this time, Meade?"

"Fraud and conspiring to evade the customs duties."

"I feel better. The last time but one, you'll remember, it was experimenting with atomics inside the city limits and without license. But why aren't they out on bail? Or is there some-thing worse you haven't told us?"

"No, it's just that the court has tied up their bank account and Hazel wouldn't get them bond. She said they were safer where they were."

"Good for Hazel!"

"Daddy, if we hurry we can get back downtown for the hearing. I'll tell you and Mummy about it on the way."

The 'fraud' part of it came from Mr. Pappalopoulis; the rest of it came straight from the planetary government. Mars, being in a state of expanding economy, just beginning to be self-­supporting and only recently of declared sovereignty, had a strongly selective tariff. Being forced to import much and having comparatively little to export which could not be had cheaper Earthside, all her economic statutes and regulations were bent toward relieving her chronic credit gap; Articles not produced on Mars but needed for her economy came in duty free; articles of luxury or pleasure carried very high rates; articles manufactured on Mars were completely protected by embargo against outside competition.

Bicycles were classed by the Import Commission as duty free since they were necessary to prospecting - but bicycles used for pleasure became 'luxury items'. The customs authori­ties had gotten around to noticing the final disposition of the cargo of the Rolling Stone. "Of courss somebody put them up to it," continued Meade, "but Mr. Angelo swears he didn't do it and I believe him. He's nice."

"That's clear enough. What's the fraud angle?"

"Oh, that!" The bicycles had at once been impounded for unpaid duty penalties and costs whereupon their new owner had sworn an information charging fraud. "He's getting a civil suit, too, but I think Hazel has it under control. Mr. Poppa says he just wants his bicycles back; he's losing business. He's not mad at anybody."

"I would be," Roger Stone answered grimly. "I intend to skin those two boys with a dull knife. What makes Hazel think she can square Mr. Pappa-et-cetera? Just what, I'd like to know?"

"She got a temporary court order freeing the bicycles to Mr. Poppa pending the outcome of the hearing; she had to put up a delivery bond on the bicycles. So Mr. Poppa dropped the fraud matter and is waiting on the civil suit to see if he's hurt"

"Hmm - My bank account feels a little better anyway. Well, dear, we might as well go down and get it over with. There doesn't seem to be anything here that a long check book can't cover."

"Yes, dear."

"Remind me to buy a pair of Oregon boots on the way home. Meade, how much is this tariff?"

"Forty per cent."

"Not too bad. They probably made more profit than that"

"But that's not all, Daddy. Forty per cent, plus another forty per cent penalty - plus confiscation of the bicycles."

"Plus two weeks in pillory, I hope?"

"Don't do anything hasty, Daddy. Hazel is arguing the case."

"Since when was she admitted to the bar?"

"I don't know, but it seems to be all right She got that court order."

"Dear," said Dr. Stone, "Shouldn't the boys have a regular lawyer? Your mother is a wonderful person, but she is sometimes just a bit impetuous."

"If you mean she's as crazy as a skew orbit, I agree with you. But I'm betting on Hazel anyhow. We'll let her have her turn at the board. It probably won't cost me much more."

"As you say, dear."

They slipped into the back of the courtroom, which appeaed to be a church on some other days. Hazel was up front, talk­ing to the judge. She saw them come in but did not appear to recognise them. The twins, looking very sober, were sitting together near the bench; they recognised their parents but took their cue from their grandmother.

"May it please the court," said Hazel, "I am a stranger here in a strange land I am not skilled in your laws nor sophisti­cate in your customs. If I err, I pray the court to forgive me in advance and help me back to the proper path."

The judge leaned back and looked at her. "We were over all that earlier this morning."

"Sure, judge, but it looks good in the record."

"Do you expect to get me reversed?"

"Oh, no! We'll settle the whole thing right here and now, I'd guess."

"I wouldn't venture to guess. I told you this morning that I would advise you as to the law, if need be. As to courtroom formalities, this Is a frontier. I can remember the time when, if one of us became involved in a misadventure which caused public disapproval, the matter was settled by calling a town meeting and taking a show of hands - and I've no doubt that as much justice was dispensed that way as any other. Times have changed but I don't think you will find this court much bothered by etiquette. Proceed."

"Thanks, judge. This young fellow here – " She hooked a thumb at the prosecutor's table. " - would have you believe that my boys cooked up a nefarious scheme to swindle the citi­zens of this nation out of their rightful and lawful taxes. I deny that. Then he asks you to believe that, having hatched this Machiavellian plot, they carried it through and got away with it, until the hand of justice, slow but sure, descended on them and grabbed them. That's a pack of nonsense, too."