o change it--or to try to replace me. With knives or clubs, rifles
or broken hatchets, Bemmon--any way you want it and any time you want
it."

"I----" Bemmon's eyes went from the hatchet in his half raised hand to
the long knife in Prentiss's belt. He swallowed with a convulsive jerk
of his Adam's apple and his hatchet-bearing arm suddenly wilted. "I
don't want to fight--to replace you----"

He swallowed again and his face forced itself into a sickly attempt at
an ingratiating smile. "I didn't mean to imply any disrespect for you
or the good job you're doing. I'm very sorry."

Then he hurried away, like a man glad to escape, and began to chop
stakes with amazing speed.

But the sullen hatred had not been concealed by the ingratiating smile;
and Prentiss knew Bemmon was a man who would always be his enemy.

* * * * *

The days dragged by in the weary routine, but overworked muscles slowly
strengthened and people moved with a little less laborious effort. On
the twentieth day the wall was finally completed and the camp was
prowler proof.

But the spring weather was a mad succession of heat and cold and storm
that caused the Hell Fever to take its toll each day and there was no
relaxation from the grueling labor. Weatherproof shelters had to be
built as rapidly as possible.

So the work of constructing them began; wearily, sometimes almost
hopelessly, but without complaint other than to hate and curse the Gerns
more than ever.

There was no more trouble from Bemmon; Prentiss had almost forgotten him
when he was publicly challenged one night by a burly, threatening man
named Haggar.

"You've bragged that you'll fight any man who dares disagree with you,"
Haggar said loudly. "Well, here I am. We'll use knives and before they
even have time to bury you tonight I'm goin' to have your stooges kicked
out and replaced with men who'll give us competent leadership instead of
blunderin' authoritarianism."

Prentiss noticed that Haggar seemed to have a little difficulty
pronouncing the last word, as though he had learned it only recently.

"I'll be glad to accommodate you," Prentiss said mildly. "Go get
yourself a knife."

Haggar already had one, a long-bladed butcher knife, and the duel began.
Haggar was surprisingly adept with his knife but he had never had the
training and experience in combat that interstellar explorers such as
Prentiss had. Haggar was good, but considerably far fro