d to chase them down. His collections had been falling off
already, and he knew that he'd be on the carpet for that, if he didn't
do better. It was a rich territory, and required careful mining; even as
the week had gone, he still had more money in his wallet than he had
expected.

But there had to be still more before night.

He was lucky; he came on a pusher working one of the better houses--long
after his collections should have been over. He knew by the man's face
that no protection had been paid higher up. The pusher was well-heeled;
Gordon confiscated the money.

This time, Izzy made no protest. Lifting the roll of anyone outside the
enforced part of Mars' laws was apparently honest, in his eyes. He
nodded, and pointed to the man's belt. "Pick up the snow, too."

The pusher's face paled. He must have had his total capital with him,
because stark ruin shone in his eyes. "Good God, Sergeant," he pleaded,
"leave me something! I'll make it right. I'll cut you in. I gotta have
some of that for myself!"

Gordon grimaced. He couldn't work up any great sympathy for anyone who
made a living out of drugs.

They cleaned the pusher, and left him sitting on the steps, a picture of
slumped misery. Izzy nodded approval. "Let him feel it a while. No sense
jailing him yet. Bloody fool had no business starting without lining the
groove. Anyhow, we'll get a bunch of credits for the stuff when we turn
it in."

"Credits?" Gordon asked.

"Sure." Izzy patted the little package. "We get a quarter value. Captain
probably gets fifty per cent from one of the pushers who's lined with
him. Everybody's happy."

"Why not push it ourselves?" Gordon asked in disgust.

"Wouldn't be honest, gov'nor. Cops are supposed to turn it in."

Trench was almost jovial when he weighed the package and examined it to
find how much it had been cut. He issued them slips, which they added as
part of the contributions. "Good work--you, too, Gordon. Best week in
the territory for a couple of months. I guess the citizens like you, the
way they treat you." He laughed at his stale joke, and Gordon was
willing to laugh with him. The credit on the dope had paid for most of
the contributions. For once, he had money to show for the week.

Then Trench motioned Bruce Gordon forward, and dismissed Izzy with a nod
of his head. "Something to discuss, Gordon. Isaacs, we're holding a
little meeting, so wait around. You're a sergeant already. But, Gordon,
I'm offeri