"Wait a minute, buddy," I snapped. "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?"
"Among other things, Napoleon," he rolled my name over his tongue as though he got a big laugh from it, "there have been only a few hundred persons in all that have gone to Mars. Few of them, to my knowledge, have been interested in the life forms there. The expense of freight in space is much too high for Terran zoos to transport Martian life forms—particularly alive—considering the cost of duplicating in the space craft the living conditions necessary to—"
"All right," I snapped, "just a minute." I picked up the viso-phone and dialed rapidly. In seconds, Jerry Mason's friendly pan lit up the screen.
"Listen, Jerry," I said, "Have you ever heard of a Martian zloor?"