: A Zloor for Your Trouble! by Reynolds Mack Terry W E Illustrator - Science fiction; Short stories; Mars (Planet) Fiction; Human-alien encounters Fiction; Hunters Fiction

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A Zloor For Your Trouble

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!...

I was sitting on the cot in the little room at the rear of my hangarage, where I keep my equipment and most of my trophies, and cleaning my .257 Roberts when the knock came at the door. It was a sharp, decisive knock. Then the door opened and I saw Westley Marks for the first time. It didn't excite me.

He said, "Mr. Napoleon Prescott?"

I began to say, "Everybody calls me Nap," but then I didn't. There was something about this guy that didn't click with me. Say what you will against snap judgments, I still take my love at first sight and enmity often the same way.

He took in the rifle I was cleaning, and his eyebrows went up questioningly. "Collector?" he asked. Somehow or other he managed to put over the impression that he thought I didn't have the intellect to have a hobby.

"Not exactly," I told him. "This is a tool, not a collector's item."

There was almost a laugh in his voice now. "You mean you use that relic in your work?"

I put the gun down, told myself to take it easy, then said, "They've made a lot of developments in weapons since this rifle was popular, but it still has advantages on certain types of jobs. For instance, if I was after a Kodiac bear, up in the Alaska National Park--"

He snorted, "I'd take a Bazook-rifle and be sure who came out on top."

He didn't like my tone of voice, but he dropped the point and began looking around for a place to sit.

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