,
and I even developed a lot of respect for you. All at once, you've
shown me how wrong I could be." He held up a hand.

"Be quiet," he said sharply, "both of you. And listen carefully. I want
to make myself fully understood. I want to drive one thought into your
stupid heads. You're in the wrong part of the galaxy for such remarks
as that one you just made." He touched the corner of his mouth, then
looked at his fingers.

"You see, this is at the edge of the Morek. There are Moreku here, in
this school. And some day, you might talk to one of them." He smiled
thinly.

"I am the only son of a border rancher, Mr. Masterson. We have a few
thousand square kilos up in the Morek area, in the hills. And I have
worked and played with mountain tribesmen all my life." He drew a long
breath.

"Had a few fights with some of them, too. And some of their customs and
a lot of their moral values rubbed off on me, I guess, though I've
never been adopted into any clan.

"You just made a remark that is the absolute last word in insults up in
the Morek. Nothing you could do or say could be worse. And there are,
as I said, others from that area right here, in this school. Real clan
members." He laughed shortly.

"Mister, what you said was, 'you sell yourself.'" He reached up to his
lapel, twisting at the bronze button.

"If you should say that to a tribesman, your life would be over. Right
then, unless you were very quick. And if you should be quick enough, or
lucky enough, to kill the man you insulted, his clan brothers would
take it up. It would be either you--or the whole tribe." He stood up.

"I'm not a tribesman. I don't carry the sling, and I'm of galactic
ancestry, so I don't have a compulsion toward blood vengeance. But I
don't accept that insult. I shall go back to the Morek today and place
you out of my mind." He paused.

"No, I won't kill you. I'll simply warn you so you'll have no excuse
for such idiocy again." He smiled.

[Illustration]

"You know, Mr. Masterson, I don't know how much they pay you by the
year to sit around here, but I doubt that it's as much as I pay my
beaters for a week end of hunting. So obviously, even if I were for
sale, the man who could afford the tab could pick you up with his small
change." He paused thoughtfully.

"Come to think of it, if your annual pay is more than my beaters get,
I'll have to raise their wages. They do their job--intelligently."

He turned, then swung back for an