Flint," one of them whispered.

"Watch him! That's an ice-ray pistol!" They lowered their clubs slowly, glancing toward their leader.

The big fellow rubbed his rigid right arm with his other hand. It stuck out before him at a grotesque angle; he couldn't move it yet. As he looked at Flint his eyes were deadly. "Don't stick your nose in this business, trapper." His thick lips curled. "You don't own this land."

"I'm sticking my nose into any business that kills off a thousand feather-deer in two weeks," Lou Flint said. "I've seen enough of your butchering."

The big man's stiffened arm suddenly dropped back to his side, perfectly normal again. An ice-ray's harmless effect lasted only a minute—but while it lasted it was a potent weapon. "You're a big talker with that gun in your hand."

In answer, Flint dropped the pistol at his feet. The other glanced at his men, saw them waiting for his next move. He strode forward. Flint waited solidly before him, fists on his hips. "You aren't leaving?" "Nope." Then quick as a snake the fellow bent, tried to scoop up the pistol. Flint was quicker. His fist plowed into the man's chin. The blow lifted him up on his toes, sent him stumbling backward till he crumpled silently to the ground. "Anybody else got any arguments?" Flint asked, looking toward the others. Nobody had. "Then get off this planetoid. If I catch you here again I'm going to send your hides back to your filthy fur boss."

Two of the men came over with tight lips and picked up their unconscious comrade. Straining under his weight, they rejoined the others who were moving back toward the trampled jungle, muttering silently.

Flint picked up his pistol, dropped it in his holster. He strode over to the side of the corral and kicked a hole in the fence to let out the feather-deer. Then, with a glance at the low-lying sun, he set out down a dim trail, walking fast.

Despite his threat, he knew he hadn't seen the last of this business.

From the wild region Flint called home, through the maze of Ring planets to the Saturn mainland, was only an hour's jump—if you knew the way. If you didn't, well, even the Stellar Patrol got lost looking for you.

The Ring was uncharted, an inestimable jumble of satellites ranging in size from sand-like grains to full-blown worlds supporting their own plant 

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