he native said. "One of the chemical differences." He
came to his feet. The dying instructor was forgotten. The native's hand
went out. "Billy, am I glad to see you. I was afraid you wouldn't
recognize me in spite of the tune I was whistling as I walked past you
on the street."

"I wouldn't forget," Billy Kasker said.

"But, Billy, it's been twelve years since I traded you, as a kid of
five, for one of their brats--changing the bracelet as I changed you.
Many times since then I've thought you had forgotten, or that I wouldn't
live to see the day when you came back here with a graduating class."

"I don't forget," Billy Kasker said. "I'm even class president!" The
words burst out of him as if he was still having trouble understanding
what they meant.

"That's wonderful, Billy. You're accepted as one of them, but you're one
of us all the time. You're in with them, you're set. You have done a
wonderful job and I'm proud of you."

The glow in the native's eyes was a wonderful sight to behold. In it
there showed the hope of the future for all the conquered natives of
this lost planet that had once been called Earth--the faith, the sure
knowledge that they would rise again ... indeed, that they were already
rising.

"Thank you! But--" Billy nodded toward the body of the instructor, then
spun hastily as a sound came from the rear of the shed, the _Thor_ gun
coming to focus. A trap door was rising there. Three natives were
looking up from under it.

"They're all right," the brown native said quickly. "They're with us."

Three ragged men scrambled up from below. They looked at the brown
native, then at the body of the instructor on the floor. A look of
fierce exultation appeared on their faces. Then they looked at Billy
Kasker and at the _Thor_ gun he was holding.

"Give the _Thor_ gun to Jim," the brown native said.

Without hesitation Billy Kasker handed the gun to the native who reached
for it. Jim did everything but kiss the weapon. "God, the years I've
spent dreaming of the moment when I would get one of these babies into
my hands! One was all I needed."

"Don't stand there gloating, Jim--get moving," the brown native said.
"Within a month I want you not only to know how a _Thor_ gun works but
to be manufacturing them by the dozens, including the large sizes. This
is the gun that has been stopping us all these years--it is the gun that
is going to take us out of these pig pens they call museums. Get
moving!"