Still, almost twenty years was long enough to stay in one place; it was time to ship out again. In many ways it had been more fun when he and Andy, God rest his sweet innocent soul, had gone banging around the stars together, lining up real estate and never staying longer than necessary to assess potentialities. He wondered if his son Zaccur would be back on time with a third load of hopefuls.

He lifted his kilt and scratched above his right knee-checked his blaster-hitched at the belt band on the left, checked his needle gun-scratched the back of his neck, made sure of his second throwing knife. Ready to face the public, he considered whether to go to his desk at the bank or to the trading post and check that incoming shipment. Neither appealed to him.

One of the hitched mules nodded at him. Gibbons looked at him, then said, "Hi, Buck. How are you, boy? Where's your boss?"

Buck closed his lips tightly, then said explosively, "Pannnk!"

That settled one point: If Clyde Leamer had hitched here instead of in front of the bank, it meant that Clyde intended to use the, side door and was looking for another loan. Let's see what effort he makes to find me.

Skip the trading post, too-not only would Clyde look there next but it wasn't fair to make Rick nervous by showing up before he had time to steal his usuals; good storekeepers were hard to come by. Rick was always honest-5 per cent, no more, no less.

Gibbons felt in his shirt pocket, found a sweet, gave it to Buck on the flat of his hand. The mule took it neatly, nodded thanks. Gibbons reflected that these mutant mules, fertile and breeding true, were the biggest help to colonizing since the Libby Drive. They took cold-sleep easily-when you shipped swine, half your breeding stock arrived as pork-and they could look out for themselves in many ways; a mule could stomp a wild loper to death.

He said, "So long, Buck. Going for a walk. Walk. Tell Boss."

"Shoh-rrrongl" acknowledged the mule, "Pye!"

Gibbons turned left and headed out of town while considering how big a loan to offer Clyde Learner with Buck as security. A good-tempered, smart stallion mule was a prize- and about the only unmortgaged asset Clyde had left. Gibbons had no doubt that a loan on Buck would put Clyde back on his feet-literally-as soon as the loan was due. Gibbons felt no pity. A man who couldn't cut the mustard on New Beginnings was worthless; no sense in propping him up.

No, don't lend Clyde a dollar! Offer to buy outright-at 10 percent aver a fair price. A decent hardworking animal should not belong to a lazy bum. Gibbons had no need for a saddle mule-but it would do him good to ride an hour or so each day. Man got flabby sitting in a bank.

Marry again and give Buck to his bride as a wedding present-A pleasant thought, but the only Howards on planet were married couples and not one with a husband-high daughter-as well as all being in masquerade until the place grew populous enough that the Families would set up a clinic here. Safer. Once burned, forever shy. He avoided Howards, and they avoided each other, on the surface. Be nice to be married again, though. The Magee family-actually Barstows-had two or three girls growing up. Maybe he should pay them a call someday.

In the meantime- He felt gusty and good, stuffed with scrambled eggs and wicked thoughts, and wondered where there was a female who felt the same way and could duck out and share their interest. Ernie knew several who shared his enthusiasm-but not available at this time of day, not for a casual romp. Which was all he was wanted; it was not fair to engage in anything serious with an ephemeral no matter how sweet she was-especially if she was truly sweet.

Banker Gibbons was at the edge of town and about to turn back when he noticed smoke from a house farther out-the Harper place. What had been the Harper place, he amended, before they homesteaded outback, but now occupied by, uh, Bud Brandon and his wife, Marje-nice young couple from the second shipload. One child? He thought so.

Running a fireplace on a day like this? Possibly, burning trash-Hey, that smoke is not from the chimney!

Gibbons broke into a run.

As he reached the Harper place, the entire roof was burning. Lazarus skidded to a stop and tried to judge the situation. Like most older houses, the Harper place had no ground-floor windows and but a single door that fit tightly and opened outward-a design for a time when lopers and dragons were ubiquitous.

Opening that door would be opening the damper on a burning fire.

He did not waste an. instant debating it; that door must stay closed. He ran around the house, spotting windows of the upper floor and looking for means to reach one-a ladder or anything. Was anyone inside? Didn't the Brandons even have knotted-rope fire escapes? Probably not; good rope came from Earth and retailed at ninety dollars a meter- the Harpers would not have left any behind.

A window with its shutters open and smoke pouring out- He yelled, "Hey! Anybody home?" A figure showed at the window, and something was thrown out to him.

Automatically he made a good catch, spotting what it was while in the air, going to the ground with it to soften the impact. A small child- He looked up, saw an arm hanging over the windowsill.

The roof fell in, the arm disappeared.

Gibbons scrambled up fast, holding, the little boy-no, little girl, he corrected-and moved hastily back from the holocaust. He did not consider the possibility that someone might be alive in that raging fire; he simply hoped that they had died quickly and gave it no more thought. He cradled the child in his arms. "Are you all right, honey?"

"I guess so," she answered, then added gravely, "but Mama's awful sick."

"Mama is all right now, dear," he said gently, "and so is Papa."

"You're sure?" The child twisted in his arms, tried to see the burning house.

He interposed his shoulder. "I'm sure." He held her more firmly and started walking.

Halfway back to town they encountered Clyde Learner, mounted on Buck. Clyde reined up. "Oh, there you are! Banker, I want to talk to you."

"Stow it, Clyde." -"Huh? But you don't understand; I've got to have some money. Nothing but bad luck the whole season. Seems like everything I touch-"

"Clyde-shut your yap!"

"What?" Learner seemed to notice for the first time that the banker was carrying something. "Hey! ain't that the Brandon kid?"

"'Yes."

"Thought so. Now about this, loan-"

"I told you to shut up. The bank won't lend you another dollar."

"But you've got to listen. Seems to me the community ought to help a farmer who's had bad luck. If it weren't for the farmers-"

"You listen. If you spent as much time working as you do talking, you wouldn't need to talk about 'bad luck.' Even your stable is dirty. Mm...what price do you want for that stud brute?"

"Buck'? Why, I wouldn't sell Buck. But here's what I had in mind, Banker. You're a kindly man even if you do talk rough and I bow you won't see my kids starve. Now Buck is a valuable property, and I figure he ought to be security for about-well, about, say-"

"Clyde, the best thing you can do for your kids is to cut your throat. Then people would adopt them. No loan, Clyde-not a dollar, not a dime. But I'll buy Buck myself, right now. Name a price."

Learner gulped and hesitated. "Twenty-five thousand."

Gibbons started walking toward town. Learner said hastily, "Twenty thousand!" Gibbons did not answer.

Learner reined the mule around, turned in front of the banker, and stopped. "Banker, you've got me by the short hairs. Eighteen thousand and you're stealing him."

"Learner, I won't steal from you. Put him up for auction, and I might bid. Or might not. How much do you think he'll bring at auction?"