est of the Venusian cities, Astro pointed out the sights.
Like slim fingers of glass, the towering Titan crystal buildings of the
city arose before them, reaching above the misty atmosphere to catch the
sunlight.

"Where do we get our safari gear, Astro?" asked Roger.

"In the secondhand shops along Spaceman's Row," replied the big
Venusian. "We can get good equipment down there at half the price."

The cab turned abruptly off the main highway and began twisting through
a section of the city shunned by the average Venusian citizen.
Spaceman's Row had a long and unsavory history. For ten square blocks it
was the hide-out and refuge of the underworld of space. The grimy stores
and shadowy buildings supplied the needs of the countless shadowy
figures who lived beyond the law and moved as silently as ghosts.

Leaving the jet cab, the three cadets walked along the streets, past the
cheaply decorated store fronts and dingy hallways, until they finally
came to a corner shop showing the universal symbol of the pawnshop:
three golden balls. Tom and Roger looked at Astro who nodded, and they
stepped inside.

The interior of the shop was filthy. Rusted and worn space gear was
piled in heaps along the walls and on dusty counters. An old-fashioned
multiple neon light fixture cast an eerie blue glow over everything.
Roger grimaced as he looked around. "Are you sure we're in the right
place, Astro?"

Tom winked. Roger had a reputation for being fastidious.

"This is it," nodded Astro. "I know the old geezer that runs this
place. Nice guy. Name's Spike." He turned to the back of the shop and
bawled, "Hey, Spike! Customers!"

Out of the gloomy darkness a figure emerged slowly. "Yeah?" The man
stepped out into the pale light. He dragged one foot as he walked.
"Whaddaya want?"

Astro looked puzzled. "Where's Spike?" he asked. "Doesn't Spike Freyer
own this place?"

"He died a couple months ago. I bought him out just before." The
crippled man eyed the three cadets warily. "Wanna buy something?"

Astro looked shocked. "Spike, dead? What happened?"

"How should I know," snarled the little man. "I bought him out and he
died a few weeks later. Now, you wanna buy something or not?"

"We're looking for jungle gear," said Tom, puzzled by the man's strange
belligerence.

"Jungle gear?" the man's eyes widened. "Going hunting?"

"Yeah," supplied Roger. "We need complete outfits for three. But you
don't look like you have them. Let