Prescott stood to make a young fortune if he could capture a Martian zloor - dead or alive! Was there a catch to it? Only for the hunter!
"Keep my size out of it," I snapped. I indicated with a thumb a little statuette on my desk. "The guy my mother named me after was pint-size too. He got along all right."
He looked over at Bonaparte. "Ummm," he said. "Napoleon was a big name once - but he's only a bust now."
"Listen, you're asking for a bust yourself. Why don't you run along? I'm busy."
He ignored me, found a chair that had nothing but a few magazines on it, tossed them to the floor, and sat down. "Your name was brought up because you're the smallest professional hunter on Earth. It'd save a few thousand credits in getting you to Mars and back."
"What in kert are you talking about?" I growled.
"The government wants a specimen, at least one, of a zloor."
"A what?"
"A zloor. A small Martian animal."
I scowled at him. "And just why does the government want a zloor?"
"That's a secret."
"Okay. I'll tell you another secret. Somebody else can catch the government a zloor. I've never been off Earth and I haven't any particular hankering to go now."
"I doubt you could have got one anyway."
I said easily, "If anyone else could catch it, I could."
He reached for the doorknob, "I'd lay a thousand credits against that," he said. He began to leave.
"Wait a minute, buddy. Are you just sounding off or have you got a thousand credits you don't care what happens to?"
He turned and faced me. "I am willing to wager a thousand credits that you can't capture a zloor."
"How big are they?"
"About the size of a rabbit."
I glowered at him. "They very fast, or very poisonous, or what?"
He shrugged. "They can't run quite as fast as a common Terran hare, and I understand they're quite gentle."
"Then why haven't they been captured?"
(Tags : A Zloor for Your Trouble!: Lost Sci-Fi Short Stories from the 40s, 50s and 60s (Unabridged) Mack Reynolds Audiobook, Mack Reynolds Audio CD )
