She sold herself short. Conversational boredom was the least likely reason I would seek the company of this fabulous creature. Daphne was completely engrossed with two wriggling, giggling extra-terrestrials at the moment, so I rolled back and took in the rest of my hostess with an indiscreet survey.

In gray slacks and high-neck T-shirt, she presented the ever pleasantly mysterious enticement of the fully clothed female. Already my interest in the nieces and their leggy displays faded in favor of the one possibly forbidden morsel aboard.

I reached out to touch the unbelievable platinum hair, but she frowned a warning. "Look, but don't touch," she said softly. I misunderstood, but Daphne put me right on the subject. He was looking over at us.

"You're wasting your time," he called. "She's colder than a methane popsickle. A real chip off of Jupiter. Let's eat, whadda ya say? Come, Nelly, produce!"

Annellica sighed. "That belly of his! Life is one continuous smorgasbord. Excuse me, Mr. Frost." She arose cautiously against the double gravity, but even under these circumstances not a line of her firm curves drooped excessively. She was, I guessed, early thirtyish, judging from her mature manner, but she was firm and resilient as a girl of 18.

The nieces had tired of scuffling in the heavier pull of out acceleration and lay with their cunning costumes plastered to their limp, moist bodies. The Major tried a few last tickles, but the responses were unsatisfactory grunts of fatigue.

He hauled himself over to me. "Great girl, that Nellie. She's my gunbearer. By the way, what weapons do you use?"

"Whatever you brought along," I said. "This is your show."

"Good, good! They ought to outlaw these nasty little nuclear side-arms. No sport at all. I'm a powder and lead man, myself. Give me a good rifle any day. Primitive but positive, if you know what you're doing."

In amazement I asked, "You use inert projectiles on unknown game?"

"Certainly. Oh, I've had a few close ones, but I learned my lesson in Africa. I got over my impulse to gut-shoot everything that ran at me." He showed me a wrinkled red scar on one shoulder at the base of his bull-neck. "You never want to gut-shoot a lion. He keeps coming. Lead has plenty of impact, but it mushes up and loses its shocking effect in the entrails. You got 

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