ings without infinite training.

When it finally became so near "morning" that he knew he had to quit,
Hanlon left the kennels and went to bed. He was still amazed, excited
and thrilled about this strange and weird ability, but he was also well
content with his studies. If a time came when he might wish or need to
use animals in his work, he felt capable of managing them. Yet again he
realized how much there was to learn; that he must continue practicing
and studying at every opportunity.

Did cats or horses--or birds or insects--have brains that worked the
same as the dogs? He would have to experiment to find that out, first
chance he got.

But now there was another very serious problem demanding his attention.
He had made a wonderful start at getting an "in" with Panek, the
Simonidean thug. Now, how could he best turn that to his advantage?

It was some time before he fell asleep from sheer weariness, nor had he
solved the problem before he did so.

The moment he awoke, late the next morning, he knew he had the answer.
His sub-conscious must have solved it for him while he slept.

At brunch he kept his eyes open, and before too long Panek came into the
dining room for his lunch. Hanlon signalled, and his new-found
acquaintance came to his table. Their orders given and the waiter on his
way, Hanlon opened up.

"Look, Pard, I don't want to butt into your business, but if you want
this Abrams out of your way, I'll be glad to take a crack at it for
you."

The Simonidean looked at him scornfully. "Think you're that good, eh?
Better'n me at bumping off a man, huh? Better'n me?"

"Oh, no," Hanlon made his face seem very apologetic, and his tone the
same. "I'm not setting myself even one notch ahead of you, nor
criticizing your way of working ..."

"Better not, neither!"

"... but every man has his own techniques. Look, in this case, aboard a
ship in space where you can't run or hide, I think my way would work
best."

The other was becoming interested in spite of himself, and his
truculence melted a bit, although his tone was still sneering. "All
right, Master Mind, how'd you handle it, how would you?"

"A gun or knife is all right on some jobs," Hanlon leaned closer and
spoke in a semi-whisper, but earnestly. "But there are times when it's
plain foolish to sneak up behind a man and hit him on the head with a
club."

"Yeah, you got something there, got something."

"In such a case, I figure it's a lot bett