Gus took another drink, glowering at Miss Perkins.
"So the government sent you out to make us respectable," he said.
"Merely to help you, Mr. Hamilton," she declared. "To turn your hatreds into healthy competition."
"Games, eh?" said Gus. "Maybe you got something, after all. Maybe we could fix up some kind of game...."
"Forget it, Gus," warned Moe. "If you're thinking of energy guns at fifty paces, it's out. Miss Perkins won't stand for anything like that."
Gus wiped his whiskers and looked hurt. "Nothing of the sort," he denied. "Dang it, you must think I ain't got no sportsmanship at all. I was thinking of a real sport. A game they play back on Earth and Mars. Read about it in my papers. Follow the teams, I do. Always wanted to see a game, but never did."
Miss Perkins beamed. "What game is it, Mr. Hamilton?"
"Space polo," said Gus.
"Why, how wonderful," simpered Miss Perkins. "And you boys have the spaceships to play it with."