h him. It spun around,
saw him, and came on again. The tongue lolled out and it whined once.
Then the native shot it through the heart, pinning it to the ground. The
short tail thumped and then it died.

Bolden couldn't move. Peggy clutched his arm. The native walked over to
the animal and looked down. He was silent for a moment. "Die anyway
soon," he said to Bolden. "Burned out inside."

He bent over. The bright yellow eyes had faded to nothingness in the
sunlight. "Gave you its health," said the man of Van Daamas respectfully
as he broke off the protruding arrow.

It was a dark blue arrow.

* * * * *

Now every settlement on the planet has Bolden's pets. They have been
given a more scientific name, but nobody remembers what it is. The
animals are kept in pens, exactly as is done by the natives, on one side
of town, not too near any habitation.

For a while, there was talk that it was unscientific to use the animal.
It was thought that an electrical treatment could be developed to
replace it. Perhaps this was true. But settling a planet is a big task.
As long as one method works there isn't time for research. And it
works--the percentage of recovery is as high as in other common
ailments.

But in any case the animal can never become a pet, though it may be in
the small but bright spark of consciousness that is all the little
yellow-eyed creature wants. The quality that makes it so valuable is the
final disqualification. Strength can be a weakness. Its nervous system
is too powerful for a man in good health, upsetting the delicate balance
of the human body in a variety of unusual ways. How the energy-transfer
takes place has never been determined exactly, but it does occur.

It is only when he is stricken with the Bubble Death and needs
additional energy to drive the invading microbes from the tissue around
his nerves that the patient is allowed to have one of Bolden's pets.

In the end, it is the animal that dies. As the natives knew, it is
kindness to kill it quickly.

It is highly regarded and respectfully spoken of. Children play as close
as they can get, but are kept well away from the pens by a high, sturdy
fence. Adults walk by and nod kindly to it.

Bolden never goes there nor will he speak of it. His friends say he's
unhappy about being the first Earthman to discover the usefulness of the
little animal. They are right. It is a distinction he doesn't care for