us and its
natives were still largely unknown.

Not so far unknown, however, that Grant Russell failed to recognize
the single luminous eye that had risen out of the water on a long,
slender stalk. "A fish," he thought, or as some would have said, a
Venusian. It saw that he was looking at it, and it dropped out of
sight. There was the swirl of brown water that marked its
under-surface progress. It swam like a fish, but it wasn't really a
fish. It was one of Venus's four dominant species and the most "human"
of all.

The swirl moved fast across the surface of the water and disappeared
in the direction of Aphrodite but Grant knew that its place would be
taken within a few minutes by another. And if Grant had had any
forlorn hope that he might be able to slip through The Pass, he gave
it up, for he knew now that his movements were reported hourly and
that his possession of the fabulous stones was undoubtedly known to
Relegar, the Uranian.

Relegar was the master of The Pass. He was no human and he had no
human feelings. Killings and stealing were a business to him, and he
had the most efficient spying system on any planet. It was well known
unofficially that he kept an underground factory busy extracting a
drug from the stamen of the swamp-orchid. The drug was labeled
"Venus-snow," and Relegar found it highly profitable to trade it to
the fish in the Sea-Swamp on the southwest and to the semi-aquatic
people in the great Gallium Bogs to the southeast--some called them
"frogs"--for information.

Relegar's spy-system was a monopoly by reason of a peculiar fact: the
fish-people talked in a high sound-range that no solar being but a
Uranian could hear; no Uranian trusted another Uranian, and so Relegar
was the only entity in The Pass who knew the dialect of the
fish-people. Seldom did any person or any entity find anything of
value in the bottom half of Venus that was not promptly reported to
the Uranian.

Therefore Grant Russell did not dare enter The Pass with the stones on
his person. This was a quick way to lose them--and perhaps his life.
Some day, thought Grant wishfully, some big-shot would come along and
clean out The Pass and then the little honest men would be safe. On
the rare occasions when a prospector did find something of value and
get back to land he would be allowed to keep it. Grant wished he had a
lot of power or a lot of money. He'd take over the clean-up job. But a
fellow like him, without friends,