Red Planet

CHAPTER FOUR

Lowell Academy

"Dear Mother and Dad,

"The reason I didn't phone you when we got in Wednesday night was that we didn't get in until Thursday morning. When I tried to phone on Thursday the operator told me that Deimos had set for South Colony and then I knew it would be about three days until I could relay a call through Deimos and a letter would get there sooner and save you four and a half credits on a collect phone call. Now I realize that I didn't get this letter off to you right away and maybe you're not going to get it until after I would have been able to make a phone call if I had made it but what you probably don't realize is how busy they keep you at school and how many demands there are on a fellow's time and anyhow you probably heard from Frank's mother that we had gotten here all right and anyway you look at it I still saved you four and one half credits by not making that phone call.

"I can just hear Phyllis saying that I am just hinting that the half-and-four I saved should be turned over to me but I am not doing anything of the sort because I wouldn't do anything like that and besides I've still got some of the money left that you gave me before I left as well as part of my birthday money and with careful management I will not need any more until you all come through here at Migration even though everything costs more here than it does at home. Frank says it's because they always jack the prices up for the tourist trade but there aren't any tourists around now and won't be until the Albert Einstein gets in next week. Anyway if you simply split the difference with me you would still be a clear two and a quarter credits ahead.

"The reason we didn't get here Wednesday night was because the driver decided the ice might not hold so we laid over at Cynia Station and Frank and I just fooled around and killed time until sunset.

"Frank and I have been allowed to room together and we've got a dandy room. It was meant for just one boy and only has one study desk but we're mostly taking the same subjects and lots of time we can use the projector together. I am talking this letter into the study desk recorder because tonight is Frank's night to help out in the kitchen and all I've got left to study is a little bit of history and I'm saving that to do it with Frank when he comes back. Professor Steuben says that he does not know what they are going to do if they keep getting more students here with no more room, hang them on hooks maybe but he is just joking. He jokes a lot and everybody likes him and will be sorry when he leaves on the Albert Einstein and the new headmaster takes over.

"Well that's all for now because Frank just got back and we had better get to work because tomorrow we have a quiz on system history.

"Your loving son,

"James Madison Marlowe, Jr. "P.S. Frank just told me that he didn't write his folks either and he wonders if you would mind phoning his mother and telling her that he is all right and would she please send his camera right away, he forgot it. P.P.S. Willis sends his love. I just asked him. P.P.P.S. Tell Phyllis that the girls here are dyeing their hair in stripes. I think it looks silly.

"JIM"

If Professor Otto Steuben, M.A., Ll.D., had not retired, Jim's life at Lowell Academy would have been different. But retire he did and went back to San Femando Valley for a well-earned rest. The entire school went to Marsport to see him off. He shook hands all around and wept a little and commended them to the care of Marquis Howe, recently arrived from Earth and now taking over.

When Jim and Frank got back from the space port they found the first arrivals gathered around the bulletin board. They crowded in and read the item that was drawing the crowd:

SPECIAL NOTICE

All students are required to keep themselves and thenquarters neat and orderly at all times. The supervision of these matters by student monitors has not proved satisfactory. Therefore formal inspections by the Headmaster will be held each week. The first such inspection will be at ten hundred, Saturday, the 7th of Ceres. (signed) M. Howe, Headmaster

"Well, for crying out loud!" Frank burst out. "What d'you think of that, Jim?"

Jim stared at it darkly. "I think that today is the sixth of Ceres."

"Yeah, but what's the idea? He must think that this is a school of correction." Frank turned to one of the older students, who had, until now, been monitor of their corridor. "Anderson, what do you think about it? Can he do that?"

"I don't know. I really don't know. It seems to me that our rooms and so forth are our private business."

"What do you intend to do about it?"

"Me?" The young man thought a while before replying, "I've got just one more semester to my degree, then I'm out of here. I think I'll just sit tight, keep my mouth shut, and sweat it out."

"Huh? That's easy enough for you to say but I've got twelve semesters staring me in the face. What am I? A criminal?"

"That's your problem, fellow." The older student left.

One of the boys in the crowd seemed undisturbed by the notice. He was Herbert Beecher, son of the Company's Resident Agent General and a newcomer both to Mars and to the school. One of the other boys noticed his smirk. "What are you looking smug about, tourist?" he demanded. "Did you know about this ahead of time?"

"Certainly I did."

"I'll bet you thought it up."

"No, but my old man says you guys have been getting away with it for a long time. My old man says that Stoobie was too soft to put any discipline into this school. My old man says that-"

"Nobody cares what your old man says. Beat it!"

"You better not talk about my old man that way. I'll-"

"Beat it before I clip you one!"

Young Beecher eyed his antagonist-a red-headed lad named Kelly-and decided that he meant it. He faded out of sight.

"He can afford to grin," Kelly said bitterly, "he lives in his old man's quarters. This thing only gets at those of us who have to live in the school. It's rank discrimination, that's what it is!" About a third of boys were day students, mostly sons of Company employees who were stationed at Syrtis Minor. Another third were migratory colonials and the balance were the children of terrestrials at the outlying stations, especially those employed on the atmosphere project. Most of these last were Bolivians and Tibetans, plus a few Eskimos. Kelly turned to one of them. "How about it, Chen? Are we going to put up with this?"

The Asiatic's broad face showed no expression. "It is not worth getting excited about."

"Huh? You mean you won't stand up for your rights?"

"These things pass."

Jim and Frank went back to their room but continued to discuss it. "Frank," asked Jim, "what's behind this? Do you suppose they're pulling the same stunt over in the girls' school?"

"I could call up Dolores Montez and find out."

"Mmm... don't bother. I don't suppose it matters. The question is: what are we going to do about it?"

"What can we do about it?"

"I don't know. I wish I could ask Dad about this. He always told me to stand up for my rights... but maybe he would say that this is just something I should expect. I don't know."

"Look," suggested Frank, "why don't we ask our fathers?"

"You mean call 'em up tonight? Is there relay tonight?"

"No, don't call 'em up; that costs too much. We'll wait till our folks come through here at migration; that's not so very long now. If we're going to make a fuss, we've got to have our folks here to back us up, or we won't get any place with it. Meantime, we sit tight and do what he asks us. It may not amount to anything."

"Now you're talking sense." Jim stood up. "I suppose we might as well try to get this dump tidied up."

"Okay. Say, Jim, I just thought of something. Isn't the chairman of the Company named Howe?"

"John W. Howe," agreed Jim. "What about it?"

"Well, the head is named Howe, too."

"Oh." Jim shook his head. "Doesn't mean anything. Howe is a very common name."

"I'll bet it does mean something. Doc MacRae says you have to be somebody's cousin to get any of the juicy Company appointments. Doc says that the Company setup is just one big happy family, playing-you-tickle-me-and-I'U-kiss-you and that the idea that it is a non-profit corporation is the biggest joke since women were invented."

"Hmm... Well, I wouldn't know. Where shall I put this junk?"

Slips were distributed at breakfast the next morning giving what was described as "Official Arrangement of Rooms for Inspection"; the job the boys had done the night before had to be done over. Since Headmaster Howe's instructions failed to consider the possibility that two boys might be living in a one-boy room the rearranging was not easy; they were not ready by ten o'clock. However it was nearly two hours later that the Headmaster got around to their cubicle.

He poked his head inside, seemed about to leave, then came inside. He pointed to their outdoors suits, hanging on hooks by the clothes locker. "Why haven't you removed those barbaric decorations from your masks?"

The boys looked startled; Howe went on, "Haven't you looked at the bulletin board this morning?"

"Er-no, sir."

"Do so. You are responsible for anything posted on the bulletin board." He shouted toward the door. "Orderly!" One of the older students appeared in the doorway. "Yes, sir."

"Weekend privileges suspended for these two pending satisfaction of inspection requirements. Five demerits each." Howe looked around. "This room is unbelievably cluttered and untidy. Why didn't you follow the prescribed diagram?"

Jim stuttered, tongue-tied by the evident unfaimess of the question. Finally he got out, "This is supposed to be a single

room. We did the best we could." "Don't resort to excuses. If you don't have room to store things neatly, get rid of the excess baggage." For the first time his eye lit on Willis, who, at the sight of strangers, had retreated to a comer and hauled in all out-rigging. Howe pointed at him. "Athletic equipment must be stored on tops of lockers or left in the gymnasium. It must not be thrown in comers."

Jim started to answer; Frank kicked him in a shin. Howe went on lecturing as he moved toward the door. "I realize that you young people have been brought up away from civilization and have not had the benefits of polite society, but I shall do my best to remedy that. I intend that this school shall, above all other things, turn out civilized young gentlemen." He paused at the door and added, "When you have cleaned up those masks, report to my office."

When Howe was out of earshot Jim said, "What did you kick me for?"

"You dumb idiot, he thought Willis was a ball."

"I know; I was just about to set him right."

Frank looked disgusted. "Don't you know enough to let well enough alone? You want to keep Willis, don't you? He would have whipped up some rule making him contraband."

"Oh, he couldn't do that!"

"The heck he couldn't! I'm beginning to see that Stoobie kept our pal Howe from exercising his full talents. Say, what did he mean: 'demerits'?"

"I don't know, but it doesn't sound good." Jim took down his respirator mask, looked at the gay tiger stripes. "You know, Frank, I don't think I want to become a 'civilized young gentleman'."

"You and me both!"

They decided to take a quick look at the bulletin board before they got into any more trouble, rather than fix the masks at once. They went to the entrance foyer and did so. On the board was pinned:

NOTICE TO STUDENTS

1. The practice of painting respirator masks with socalled identification patterns will cease. Masks will be plain and each student will letter his name neatly in letters one inch high across me chest and across the shoulders of his outdoors suit.

2. Students are required to wear shirts and shoes or slippers at all times and places except in their own rooms.

3. Pets will not be kept in dormitory rooms. In some cases, where the animals are of interest as scientific specimens, arrangements may be made to feed and care for pets in the biology laboratory.

4. Food must not be kept in dormitory rooms. Students receiving food packages from parents will store them with the commissary matron and reasonable amounts may be withdrawn immediately after meals, except Saturday morning breakfast. Special permission may be obtained for "sweets parties" during recreation hours on occasions such as birthdays, etc.

5. Students denied weekend privileges for disciplinary reasons may read, study, compose letters, play musical instruments, or listen to music. They are not permitted to play cards, visit in other students' rooms, nor leave the school area for any reason.

6. Students wishing to place telephone calls will submit a written request on the approved form and will obtain key to the communications booth at the main office.

(signed) M. Howe, Headmaster

Jim whistled. Frank said, "Would you look at that, Jim? Would you, now? Do you suppose we have to get permission to scratch? What does he take us for?"

"Search me."

"Frank, I haven't got a shirt."

"Well, I can lend you a sweat shirt until you can buy some. But take a look at paragraph three-you'd better get busy."

"Huh? What about it?" Jim reread it.

"You'd better go butter up the bio teacher, so you can make arrangements for Willis."

"What?" Jim simply had not connected the injunction concerning pets with Willis; he did not think of Willis as a pet.

"Oh, I can't do that, Frank. He'd be terribly unhappy."

"Then you had better ship him home and let your folks care for him."

Jim looked balky. "I won't do it. I won't!"

"Then what are you going to do?"

"I don't know." He thought about it. "I won't do anything about it. I'll just keep him under cover. Old lady Howe doesn't even know I've got him."

"Well... you might get away with it, so long as nobody snitches on you."

"I don't think any of the fellows would do that."

They went back to their room and attempted to remove the decorations from their masks. They were not very successful; the paint had bitten into the plastic and they succeeded only in smearing the colors around. Presently a student named Smythe stuck his head in the door. "Clean up your masks for you?"

"Huh? It can't be done; the colors have soaked in."

"You're the umpteenth to find that out. But, from the goodness of my heart and a willingness to be of public service, I will paint your mask over to match the original shade -at a quarter credit per mask."

"I thought there was a catch in it," Jim answered.

"Do you want it, or don't you? Hurry up, my public is waiting."

"Smitty, you would sell tickets to your grandmother's funeral." Jim produced a quarter credit. .

"That's an idea. How much do you think I could charge?" The other boy produced a can of lacquer and a brush, rapidly painted out Jim's proud design, using a pigment that was a fair match for the olive-drab original shade. "There! It'll dry in a couple of minutes. How about you, Sutton?"

"Okay, bloodsucker," Frank agreed.

"Is that any way to talk about your benefactor? I've got a heavy date over on the girls' side and here I am spending my precious Saturday helping you out." Smythe made equally rapid work of Frank's mask.

"Spending your time raising money for your date, you mean," amended Jim. "Smitty, what do you think of these trick rules the new Head has thought up? Should we knuckle under, or make a squawk?"

"Squawk? What for?" Smythe gathered up his tools. "There's a brand-new business opportunity in each one, if you only had the wit to see it. When in doubt, come see Smythe -special services at all hours." He paused at the door. "Don't mention that deal about tickets to my grandmother's funeral; she'd want a cut on it before she kicks off. Granny is a very shrewd gal with a credit."

"Frank," remarked Jim when Smythe was gone, "there is something about that guy I don't like."

Frank shrugged. "He fixed us up. Let's check in and get off the punishment list."

"Right. He reminds me of something Doc used to say. 'Every law that was ever written opened up a new way to graft.'"

"That's not necessarily so. My old man says Doc is a crackpot. Come on."

They found a long line waiting outside the Headmaster's office. They were finally ushered in in groups of ten. Howe gave their masks a brief glance each, then started in to lecture. "I hope that this will be a lesson to you young gentlemen not only in neatness, but in alertness. Had you noticed what was posted on the bulletin board you would have been, each of you, prepared for inspection. As for the dereliction itself, I want you to understand that this lesson far transcends the matter of the childish and savage designs you have been using on your face coverings."

He paused and made sure of their attention. "There is actually no reason why colonial manners should be rude and vulgar and, as head of this institution, I intend to see to it that whatever defects there may have been in your home backgrounds are repaired. The first purpose, perhaps the only purpose, of education is the building of character-and character can be built only through discipline. I flatter myself that I am exceptionally well prepared to undertake this task; before coming here I had twelve years experience as a master at the Rocky Mountains Military Academy, an exceptionally fine school, a school that produced men."

He paused again, either to catch his breath or let his words soak in. Jim had come in prepared to let a reprimand roll off his back, but the schoolmaster's supercilious attitude and most especially his suggestion that a colonial home was an inferior sort of environment had gradually gotten his dander up. He spoke up. "Mr. Howe?"

"Eh? Yes? What is it?"

"This is not the Rocky Mountains; it's Mars. And this isn't a military academy."

There was a brief moment when it seemed as if Mr. Howe's surprise and anger might lead him to some violence, or even to apoplexy. After a bit he contained himself and said through tight lips, "What is your name?"

"Marlowe, sir. James Marlowe."

"It would be a far, far better thing for you, Marlowe, if it were a military academy." He turned to the others. "The rest of you may go. Weekend privileges are restored. Marlowe, remain behind."

When the others had left Howe said, "Marlowe, there is nothing in this world more offensive than a smart-aleck boy, an ungrateful upstart who doesn't know his place. You are enjoying a fine education through the graciousness of the Company. It ill behooves you to make cheap wisecracks at persons appointed by the Company to supervise your training and welfare. Do you realize that?"

Jim said nothing. Howe said sharply, "Come! Speak up, lad-admit your fault and make your apology. Be a man!"

Jim still said nothing. Howe drummed on the desk top;

finally he said, "Very well, go to your room and think it over. You have the weekend to think about it."

When Jim got back to his room Frank looked him over and shook his head admiringly. "Boy, oh boy!" he said, "aint you the reckless one."

"Well, he needed to be told."

"He sure did. But what are your plans now? Are you going to cut your throat, or just enter a monastery? Old Howie will be gunning for you every minute from here on out. Matter of fact, it won't be any too safe to be your roommate."

"Confound it, Frank, if that's the way you feel, you're welcome to find another roommate!"

"Easy, easy! I won't run out on you. I'm with you to the end. 'Smiling, the boy fell dead.' I'm glad you told him off. I wouldn't have had the courage to do it myself."

Jim threw himself across the bunk. "I don't think I can stand this place. I'm not used to being pushed around and sneered at, just for nothing. And now I'm going to get it double. What can I do?"

"Demed if I know."

'This was a nice place under old Stoobie. I thought I was going to like it just fine."

"Stoobie was all right. And Howe is a prime stinker. But what can you do, Jim, except shut up, take it, and hope he will forget it?"

"Look, nobody else likes it either. Maybe if we stood together we could make him slow up."

"Not likely. You were the only one who had the guts to speak up. Shucks, / didn't even back you up-and I agreed with you a hundred per cent."

"Well, suppose we all sent letters to our parents?"

Frank shook his head. "You couldn't get them all to-and some pipsqueak would snitch. Then you would be in the soup, for inciting to riot or some such nonsense. Anyhow," he went on, "just what could you say in a letter that you could put your finger on and prove that Mr. Howe was doing something he had no right to? I know what my old man would say."

"What would he say?"

"Many's the time he's told me stories about the school he went to back Earthside and what a rough place it was. I think he's a little bit proud of it. If I tell him that Howie won't let us keep cookies in our room, he'll just laugh at me. He'd say-"

"Dawggone it, Frank, it's not the rule about food in our rooms; it's the whole picture."

"Sure, sure. / know it. But try to tell my old man. All we can tell is little things like that. It'll have to get a lot worse before you could get our parents to do anything."

Frank's views were confirmed as the day wore on. As the news spread student after student dropped in on them, some to pump Jim's hand for having bearded the Headmaster, some merely curious to see the odd character who had had the temerity to buck vested authority. But one two-pronged fact became apparent: while no one liked the new school head and all resented some or all of his new "disciplinary" measures, no one was anxious to join up in what was assumed to be a foregone lost cause.

One of the senior boys summed it up. "Get wise to yourself, kid. A man wouldn't go into school teaching if he didn't enjoy exercising cheap authority. It's the natural profession of little Napoleons."

"Stoobie wasn't like that!"

"Stoobie was an exception. Most of them like rules just for the sake of rules. It's a fact of nature, like frost at sundown. You have to get used to it."

On Sunday Frank went out into Syrtis Minor-the terrestrial settlement, not the nearby Martian city. Jim, under what amounted to room arrest, stayed in their room, pretended to study and talked to Willis. Frank came back at supper time and announced, "I brought you a present." He chucked Jim a tiny package.

"You're a pal! What is it?"

"Open it and see."

It was a new tango recording, made in Rio and direct from Earth via the Albert Einstein, titled iQuien Es La Senorita? Jim was inordinately fond of Latin music; Frank had remembered it.

"Oh, boy!" Jim went to the study desk, threaded the tape into the speaker, and got ready to enjoy it. Frank stopped him.

"There's the supper bell. Better wait."

Reluctantly Jim complied, but he came back and played it several times during the evening until Frank insisted that they study. He played it once more just before lights-out.

The dormitory corridor had been dark and quiet for perhaps fifteen minutes when ^Quien Es La Senorita? started up again. Frank sat up with a start. "What the deuce? Jim-don't play that now!"

-"I'm not," protested Jim. "It must be Willis. It has to be Willis."

"Well, shut him up. Choke him. Put a pillow over his head."

Jim switched on the light. "Willis boy-hey, Willis! Shut up that racket!" Willis probably did not even hear him. He was standing the middle of the floor, beating time with his eye stalks, and barrelling on down the groove. His rendition was excellent, complete with marimbas and vocal chorus.

Jim picked him up. "Willis! Shut up, fellow."

Willis kept on beating it out.

The door bust open and framed Headmaster Howe. "Just as I thought," he said triumphantly, "no consideration for other people's rights and comforts. Shut off that speaker. And consider yourself restricted to your room for the next month."

Willis kept on playing; Jim tried to hide him with his body. "Didn't you hear my order?" demanded Howe. "I said to shut off that music." He strode over to the study desk and twisted the speaker switch. Since it was already shut off full, all he accomplished was breaking a fingernail. He suppressed an unschoolmasterly expression and stuck the finger in his mouth. Willis worked into the third chorus.

Howe turned around. "How do you have this thing wired?" he snapped. Getting no answer, he stepped up to Jim and said, "What are you hiding?" He shoved Jim aside, looked at Willis with evident disbelief and distaste. "What is thatT

"Uh, that's Willis," Jim answered miserably, raising his voice to be heard.

Howe was not entirely stupid; it gradually penetrated that me music he had been hearing came out of the curious-looking, fuzzy sphere in front of him.

"And what is 'Willis', may I ask?"

"Well, he's a... a bouncer. A sort of a Martian." Willis picked this moment to finish the selection, breathe a liquid contralto buenas noches, and shut up-for the moment.

"A bouncer? I've never heard of one."

"Well, not very many have seen one, even among the colonists. They're scarce."

"Not scarce enough. Sort of a Martian parrot, I assume."

"Oh, no!"

"What do you mean, 'Oh, no'?"

"He's not a bit like a parrot. He talks, he thinks-he's my friend!"

Howe was over his surprise and recalling the purpose of his visit. "All that is beside the point. You saw my order about pets?"

"Yes, but Willis is not a pet."

"What is he, then?"

"Well, he can't be a pet. Pets are animals; they're property. Willis isn't property; he's... well, he's just Willis."

Willis picked this time to continue with the next thing he had heard after the last playing of the tango. "Boy, when I hear that music," he remarked in Jim's voice, "I don't even remember that old stinker Howe."

"I can't forget him," Willis went on in Frank's voice. "I wish I had had the nerve to tell him off the same time you did, Jim. You know what? I think Howe is nuts, I mean really nuts. I'll bet he was a coward when he was a kid and it's twisted him inside."

Howe turned white. Frank's arm-chair psychoanalyzing had hit dead center. He raised his hand as if to strike, then dropped it again, uncertain what to strike. Willis hastily withdrew all protuberances and became a smooth ball.

"I say it's a pet," he said savagely, when he regained his voice. He scooped Willis up and headed for the door.

Jim started after him. "Say! Mr. Howe-you can't take Willis!"

The Headmaster turned. "Oh, I can't, can't I? You get back to bed. See me in my office in the morning."

"If you hurt Willis, I'U... I'll..."

"You'll what?" He paused. "Your precious pet won't be hurt. Now you get back in that bed before I thrash you." He turned again and left without stopping to see whether or not his order had been carried out.

Jim stood staring at the closed door, tears streaming down his cheeks, sobs of rage and frustration shaking him. Frank came over and put a hand on him. "Jim. Jim, don't take on so. You heard him promise not to hurt Willis. Get back into bed and settle it in the morning. At the very worst you'll have to send Willis home."

Jim shook off the hand. "I should have burned him," he muttered. "I should have burned him down where he stood."

"Suppose you did? Want to spend the rest of your life in an asylum? Don't let him get your goat, fellow; if he gets you angry, you'll do something silly and then he's got you."

"I'm already angry."

"I know you are and I don't blame you. But you've got to get over it and use your head. He was laying for you-you saw that. No matter what he does or says you've got to keep cool and outsmart him-or he gets you in wrong."

"I suppose you're right."

"I know I'm right. That's what Doc would say. Now come to bed."

Neither one of them got much sleep that night. Toward morning Jim had a nightmare that Howe was a withdrawn Martian whom he was trying to unroll-against his better judgment.

There was a brand-new notice on the bulletin board at breakfast time. It read:

IMPORTANT NOTICE

All students possessing personal weapons will turn them in at the main office for safekeeping. Weapons will be returned on request whenever the student concerned is leaving the limits of the school and the adjoining settlement. The practice of wearing sideanns in areas where there is no actual danger from Martian/cMna will cease. (signed) M. Howe, Headmaster

Jim and Frank read it together. "This is the worst one yet," said Jim. "The right to bear arms is guaranteed. Doc says it's the basis of all freedom."

Frank studied it. "Do you know what I think?"

"No. What?"

"I think he's afraid of you personally."

"Me? Why?"

"Because of what happened last night. There was murder in your eye and he saw it. I think he wants to pull your teeth. I don't think he gives a hoot about the rest of us hanging on to our heaters."

"You really think so?"

"I do. The question is: what are you going to do about it?"

Jim thought about it. "I'm not going to give up my gun. Dad wouldn't want me to. I'm sure of that. Anyhow, I'm licensed and I don't have to."

"Neither will I. But we had better mink up a wrinkle before you have to go see him this morning."

The wrinkle showed up at breakfast-the student named Smythe. Frank spoke to Jim about it in a low voice; together they accosted the student after breakfast and brought him to their room. "Look, Smitty," began Jim, "you're a man with lots of angles, aren't you?"

"Mmm... could be. What's up?"

"You saw that notice this morning?"

"Sure. Who didn't? Everybody is grousing about it."

"Are you going to turn in your gun?"

"I did before breakfast. What do I need a gun for around here? I've got a brain."

"In that case you won't be called in about it. Now just supposing that you were handed two packages to take care of. You won't open them and you won't know what's in them. Do you think you could find a safe, a really safe place to keep them and still be able to give them back on short notice?"

"I don't suppose you want me to tell anybody about these, uh, packages?"

"Nope. Nobody."

"Hmm... this sort of service comes high."

"How high?"

"Well, now, I couldn't afford to do it for less than two credits a week."

"That's too much," Frank put in sharply.

"Well-you're friends of mine. I'll make you a flat rate of eight credits for the rest of the year."

"Too much."

"Six credits then, and I won't go lower. You've got to pay for the risk."

"It's a deal," Jim said before Frank could bargain further.

Smythe left with a bundle before Jim reported to the Headmaster's office.