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again. But when we run out halfway between Mars and Earth--"
The Optus went off, wordless. Franco joined the first mate at the bottom of the gangplank.
"How's it coming?" he said. He looked at his watch. "We got a good bargain here."
The mate glanced at him sourly. "How do you explain that?"
"What's the matter with you? We need it more than they do."
"I'll see you later, Captain." The mate threaded his way up the plank, between the long-legged Martian go-birds, into the ship. Franco watched him disappear. He was just starting up after him, up the plank toward the port, when he saw it.
"My God!" He stood staring, his hands on his hips. Peterson was walking along the path, his face red, leading it by a string.
"I'm sorry, Captain," he said, tugging at the string. Franco walked toward him.
"What is it?"
The wub stood sagging, its great body settling slowly. It was sitting down, its eyes half shut. A few flies buzzed about its flank, and it switched its tail.
It sat. There was silence.
"It's a wub," Peterson said. "I got it from a native for fifty cents. He said it was a very unusual animal. Very respected."
"This?" Franco poked the great sloping side of the wub. "It's a pig! A huge dirty pig!"
"Yes sir, it's a pig. The natives call it a wub."
"A huge pig. It must weigh four hundred pounds." Franco grabbed a tuft of the rough hair. The wub gasped. Its eyes opened, small and moist. Then its great mouth twitched.
A tear rolled down the wub's cheek and splashed on the floor.
"Maybe it's good to eat," Peterson said nervously.
"We'll soon find out," Franco said.
* * * * *
The wub survived the take-off, sound asleep in the hold of the ship. When they were out in space and everything was running smoothly, Captain Franco bade his men fetch the wub upstairs so that he might perceive what manner of beast it was.
The wub grunted and wheezed, squeezing up the passa