Molock screamed. "Shad Brisbee would murder me if he caught me outside this ship. I'm not a damned Venusian, I'm fair game to him."

"Nah, he wouldn't hurt you," Wilkerson said, "Hell, he's just an ignorant native. All he's got are knives and clubs and spears and bows and arrows—just a native. He's easy to bluff. Hell, you're a human being. He probably looks on you as a sort of a god. At least some of the literature I saw one of the trained seals pounding out in the publicity department said the natives regarded humans as minor gods who can do no wrong."

Whaaam! An arrow smashed against the plastite hull window bounced off. One point was definitely to our advantage. No weapon possessed by the Venusians could get through the steel hull or the plastite view ports of the ship. We were as safe as sardines in a can—unless the Venusians found a can opener.

We sat in the galley and morosely drank beer and considered how best to draw our wills.

"Hey, look!" Molock gasped, painting toward the plastite window.

At first glance it seemed to me that the whole Venusian race had put in its appearance. There were hundreds of Venusians, thousands of them, coming from all directions. Shad Brisbee had called in his pals from miles around and they were all heading our way.

Wilkerson's face went white. "This looks like the end, boys," he said.

"Nah!" Molock answered. "They'll never get through the hull. I'll figure out something."

"You had better get your slide rule into action. Uh! What was that?"

That was the ship lurching as if it was about to turn over. From the ports, we could see what was happening. Venusians were on both sides of the ship. Those on one side were pushing while those on the other side were pulling. When the ship settled back, the ones on the second side pushed like hell, setting up a rhythmic rocking motion that was rapidly threatening to turn the ship over.

"You could turn over a mountain like this!" Wilkerson whispered, as the ship lurched. "My God! They're going to try to roll the whole damned ship into the swamp."

On one side of Shad Brisbee's dancing ground was jungle. On the other side was a deep pool of muddy water. Staring at it, Wilkerson seemed to talk out of a trance. "Drowned, like rats in a trap, in my own ship!" He took a deep breath, turned to Molock. "Go out and bluff Shad Brisbee now!"

Molock also took a deep breath and rose to his feet. "I'll just go do that," he said, moving toward the lock.

All of us were too stunned to try to stop him.

When he opened the outer door of the lock, the noise that came in was like the howling of a forest full of baboons. But the rocking of the ship stopped as soon as he appeared. I don't know why the Venusians didn't kill him before he had a chance to open his mouth, but probably they were too surprised at his appearance to take immediate action.

"I want to talk to Shad Brisbee!" he yelled at the top of his voice.

Shad appeared in the throng. He looked more than seven feet tall and I would have sworn he had more than six eyes. The throng grew so quiet you could hear these tame Venusians slobbering as they thirsted for human blood.

"I'll dance you ... for the right ... to keep our ship ... on your dancing ground ... until it is repaired ..." Molock said.

"The hopeless fool!" Wilkerson gasped. "The utter idiot ..."

"You will dance me?" You could have heard Shad Brisbee scream for miles around. The idea appalled him, because it was a direct challenge, and it also appealed to him because he was absolutely certain that he, or any other Venusian could out-dance any human who had ever put foot on the Veiled Planet. "I'll do it!" Shad Brisbee roared. "Make room for the dancers!" His voice was a howl that shook wondering echoes out of the jungle.

Molock came back into the galley. "You can't do it," Wilkerson gasped. "These dances are endurance contests. That big baboon has done nothing but dance all his life. He can