Suddenly there was a blow and a shout of pain in the darkness, and Jan could dimly see two spacemen fighting, an almost unheard of thing among those men conditioned and disciplined to comradeship. Jan leaped between them. They had their hands clenched on each other's throats and it was not easy to separate them.
"What's the matter with you, Smith? Have you gone crazy, Knorsky?" Jan shouted.
"It's that dame on Tartarus, Captain. He stole her from me."
Jan remembered the dame, a sloe-eyed little spaceman's tart. Smith and Knorsky had placed playful bets on who would have her first. Smith won, and Knorsky paid with a laugh. They were the best of friends.
"Calm down, you guys—" Jan started to say. Suddenly there was a rattle of blaster fire. A moment's silence was followed by more shots. Then random shots with decreasing frequency. The bird song had ceased completely.
Then a long silence broken by a sound like laughter. It grew wilder and wilder. Then it came north on wings. The birds settled on the beach and in the forest. The red-winged chief strutted beside Jan.
"It was easy to do, spacecaptain," the bird said. "We watched them until we understood how many longed for each other's mates. Then we drove the men to women who did not belong to them and the women to the men. Then we turned to the foolishness of jealousy. There are 27 men and seven women less. There now remain 10 men and 23 women."
"Is the woman named Ellen all right?"
"Yes. She stayed on her knees throughout the fight and no one touched her."
At sundown the next evening the bird chief said, "Perhaps we will complete our victory tonight."