second fall, which he does. The big
miner gets a head scissors on him and like to moiders him before he
can submit.

Ray isn't liking it, and he takes the third one quick with a abominal
stretch, which surprises the big guy and takes all the fight outa him.
He didn't know they was holts like that, and he passes the word around
that my bum has plenty moxie. So we get only one more bout on the
Moon--but outa the two we get enough scratch to take us to Venus.

Hoiman paused, trying hard to pour more beer out of the empty second
bottle. He licked his lips like they were real dry, and his beady eyes
flicked a glance at me that came and went as fast as the tip of a
swinging rapier. I signalled Sherry to bring two more bottles of beer.
Hoiman relaxed, sighed, gazing almost affectionately at the new crop
of french fries which had appeared suddenly in his clutching fist.

Sherry, still pouting, came with the beer, and ten seconds later
Hoiman was talking again.

We did okay on Venus, (he said). Before long I have a regular little
circuit woiked up in the three spaceports, and they is plenty bums
there what think they can rassle. Some of them can--my bum has to use
his pretzel bend oftener and oftener. He's lucky, and he don't slip
none clamping it on--at first.

I have ta tell you about them Venusians. Them dustlanders, I mean.
They got big flat wide feet for padding through the dust, and their
noses are like a big spongy thing all over their puss, to filter the
dust out. So they got no expression on their pans. A guy like me,
which has got a real expressive face, could get the willies just
looking at them. And their eyes--round and flat, big as silver
dollars.

Them dustlanders was nuts about rassling. They flock to the rassling
shows and buy good seats. They don't do no hollering and waving like
people do. Just sit there, staring out of them big flat eyes and
making funny _chuffing_ noises at each other when some bum would get a
good hold on the other.

My bum didn't pay them no never mind at foist, but one day he tells me
he keeps feeling them eyes on him while he's rasslin'. I give him the
old razz--but that night he tries for his pretzel bend, and misses.
The other bum is young and fast, and my bum gets trun, but good!

So this happens a few more times, and my bum says we gotta move on--he
can't rassle no more with them dustlanders staring at him and
_chuffing_ about him.

Some of them ear benders on Venus ar