He stared into the Martian's mango-like face. "I had a lucky piece. An ancient Deimian jewel set in platinum. It's always been good for credit."
Kueelo's sigh was like a wind through withered leaves. "That," he said, "was used up two nights ago."
"I had a dis-gun, too! What happened to it?"
"We used that up last night. Penger allowed us four drinks apiece for it."
Latham nodded miserably. "The space yacht. I guess it's already gone."
"Two days ago. Your fine feathered friends shunned you when they learned you were a tsith hound. But I stuck by you," Kueelo added cunningly.
Latham sank heavily onto a clump of swamp grass. He stared at his right hand. It had started trembling. He couldn't stop the trembling. He wondered dully if he was frightened, or if that was a result of the terrible craving that twisted and writhed within him. He stared up into the Martian's face.
"Stranded," he said weakly. "But I'll get out of here. I'll hire out on one of the freighters—"
"You won't." Kueelo's voice was matter-of-fact again. "Not when they learn you're a tsith hound. And Penger will let them know, you can bet on that. He's a devil, that Penger."
"But he's an Earthman, and I'm an Earthman!" Latham's voice was almost a wail. His soul was withering within him.