read dials. But I guess bein' Lemuel's cousin you was raised different."

"As a matter of fact—"

"Have to get you some real clothes, though. Those city duds don't stand up on 'Dobe."

Retief looked down at the charred, torn and sweat-soaked powder-blue blazer and slacks.

"This outfit seemed pretty rough-and-ready back home," he said. "But I guess leather has its points."

"Let's get on back to camp. We'll just about make it by sundown. And, look. Don't say anything to Lemuel about me thinking you were a Flap-jack."

"I won't, but—"

Potter was on his way, loping off up a gentle slope. Retief pulled off the sodden blazer, dropped it over a bush, added his string tie and followed Potter.

II

"We're damn glad you're here, mister," said a fat man with two revolvers belted across his paunch. "We can use every hand. We're in bad shape. We ran into the Flap-jacks three months ago and we haven't made a smart move since. First, we thought they were a native form we hadn't run into before. Fact is, one of the boys shot one, thinkin' it was fair game. I guess that was the start of it." He stirred the fire, added a stick.

"And then a bunch of 'em hit Swazey's farm here," Potter said. "Killed two of his cattle, and pulled back."

"I figure they thought the cows were people," said Swazey. "They were out for revenge."

"How could anybody think a cow was folks?" another man put in. "They don't look nothin' like—"

"Don't be so dumb, Bert," said Swazey. "They'd never seen Terries before. They know better now."

Bert chuckled. "Sure do. We showed 'em the next time, didn't we, Potter? Got four."

"They walked right up to my place a couple days after the first time," Swazey said. "We were ready for 'em. Peppered 'em good. They cut and run."

"Flopped, you mean. Ugliest lookin' critters you ever saw. Look just like a old piece of dirty blanket humpin' around."

"It's been goin' on this way ever since. They raid and then 

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