Then the haggling began. Sitting Bull demanded 20,000 Bonaparte francs; the Swagman laughed in his face and countered with 750 credits. Ten minutes later they were still at it, 236 credits apart, and finally the Swagman gave in. The negotiated bill came to 6,819 credits, payable in advance.

The Swagman dug into his pocket and pulled out a sheaf of bills. Vittorio was summoned, emerged from a nearby wigwam, said something to Sitting Bull, collected the money, and then positioned himself a few paces behind Sitting Bull, his thin arms folded across his narrow chest.

“Now we will smoke a peace pipe,” announced Sitting Bull. “And then I will give you that which you have purchased.”

He nodded, and a brown, sluglike creature that Virtue had thought was a log undulated over to him and produced a long, meticulously crafted wooden pipe from somewhere within the folds of its thick, crusted skin.

Sitting Bull withdrew a tiny laser device, rekindled the logs between himself and the two humans, and gestured to the yellow caterpillar, which slithered over, picked up a burning twig, and held it just above the end of the pipe. Sitting Bull took a number of deep puffs, grunted his satisfaction, and then passed the pipe to the Swagman, who filled his mouth with smoke, seemed to analyze the taste of it for an instant, and then released it.

When it was Virtue’s turn, he handed it to her and whispered, “Don’t inhale.”

She followed his instructions, took a couple of mouthfuls of thick gray smoke, made sure nothing went down her throat, and finally blew them out.

“What is it?” she asked, making a face and handing the pipe to the yellow alien, who ambulated away with it. “It seemed sickly sweet.”

“Some kind of hallucinogenic compound,” he replied softly. “It’s one of his favorite parlor tricks.” He grimaced. “My guess is that he insists on smoking it just so he can watch humans make asses of themselves. Get one puff of that stuff in your system and you’d still be seeing things a week from now.” He turned to Sitting Bull. “May I have my information?”

“Vittorio says that the man you seek is currently on the planet of Glenovar, in the system of Zeta Halioth.”

The Swagman frowned. “You’re sure?”

“I am sure.”

“There’s no possibility of a mistake, or that you might have the wrong man?”

“None.”

“All right.” He paused. “I’ll give you one last opportunity to talk about Santiago. We are prepared to make you a very handsome offer.”

“I will not betray Santiago.”

“I thought your livelihood consisted of betraying Men,” interjected Virtue coldly.

“Only to the detriment of other Men,” replied Sitting Bull placidly.

The Swagman stood up and helped Virtue to her feet. “Then I think it’s time that we took our leave of you.”

“You seek no other information?”

“No.”