III
295 Words
IIIHE WAS JUST ON THE verge of confessing the urge
That brought him back out of the void
When a servant discreet appeared in their retreat
And Nell faced the fellow, annoyed.
“Well?” she icily said. The man bobbed his head.
“A visiphone call on the rack.”
Nell sighed as she rose. “Some friend, I suppose.
Wait, Dougal; I’ll hurry right back.”
An expression surprisingly soft in her eyes,
She answered the visiphone.
Her caller, however (the cradle-monk), never
Detected her altered tone.
“Hey, Nell, there’s a chump on his way to your dump,
A big, quiet sort of a lout
By name of MacNeer—” Nell told him, “He’s here;
What’s all the commotion about?”
A hungry grimace of greed mottled the face of
The vengeful space-harbor assistant.
“Do I get my percent for a tip on the gent?”
He parried in accents insistent.
“You mean—?” whispered Nell. And, “Surer than hell!”
The answer came back, swift and eager,
“I’ve just seen his log, and he’s in from the Bog
With a claim-stake the size of Omega!”
Now, for those who don’t know their A. L. & O.[3]
The “Bog” is a treacherous sector
Of planetoids legion, a tightly-packed region
Avoided by every prospector.
None but the most daring do any space-faring
In those lethal, whirlagig niches,
But spacemen all claim that the Bog is aflame
With infinite, fabulous riches.
‘Twas thence that the crew of the L-32
Returned with a cargo of ore
That assayed ninety-one and a half to the ton
—Or maybe a little bit more.
It was out of the Bog that old space-weasel Scrogg
Withdrew on his gravity-tractor
The rock 4-Omega, which brought such a figure
Scrogg set himself up as a Factor.
So it’s easily seen why Nell’s new, serene
Complaisance should disappear rudely.
She gasped and she started; her crimson lips parted;
Her eyes narrowed sharply and shrewdly.
“You’re positive?” Slyly responded the spy,
“Why else would he put into Krull
With motors O.Q., and flame-jets brand-new,
And fuel-chambers more than half-full?”
- Writer
