den grunted.

"D'you think we came this far not to be noticed?" he asked. But he was
not peevish. Rather, he seemed more thoroughly awake than he'd been
since the squad ship left the Precinct substation back on Varenga IV. He
rubbed his hands a little and stood up. "Hold it a minute, Willis."

He went back to the auxiliary-equipment locker. He returned to his seat
beside Patrolman Willis. He opened the breech of the ejector-tube beside
his chair.

"You've had street-fighting training," he said almost affably, "at the
Police Academy. And siege-of-criminals courses too, eh?" He did not wait
for an answer. "It's historic," he observed, "that since time began
cops've been stickin' out hats for crooks to shoot at, and that
crooks've been shooting, thinking there were heads in 'em."

He put a small object in the ejector tube, poked it to proper seating,
and settled himself comfortably, again.

"Can you make it to about a quarter-million miles of Four," he asked
cheerfully, "in one hop?"

Patrolman Willis set up the hop-timer. Sergeant Madden was pleased that
he aimed the squad ship not exactly at the minute disk which was Planet
IV of this system. It was prudence against the possibility of an error
in the reading of distance.

"Ever use a marker, Willis?"

Patrolman Willis said: "No, sir."

Before he'd finished saying it the squad ship had hopped into overdrive
and out again.

* * * * *

Sergeant Madden approved of the job. His son Timmy couldn't have done
better. Here was Planet IV before them, a little off to one side, as was
proper. They had run no risk of hitting in overdrive.

The distance was just about a quarter-million miles, if Krishnamurti's
Law predicting the size and distance of planets in a sol-type system was
reliable. The world was green and had icecaps. There should always be,
in a system of this kind, at least one oxygen-planet with a
nearly-terran-normal range of temperature. That usually meant green
plants and an ocean or two. There wasn't quite as much sea as usual, on
this planet, and therefore there were some extensive yellow areas that
must be desert. But it was a good, habitable world. Anybody whose home
it was would defend it fiercely.

"Hm-m-m," said Sergeant Madden. He took the ejector-tube lanyard in his
hand. He computed mentally. About a quarter-million miles, say. A second
and a half to alarm, down below. Five seconds more to verification.
Another