It was then, and then only, that Slops said to me:
"That's all, Joey. You can turn it off now." There was something akin to sadness in his voice. I understood. I didn't feel any too good myself, watching those Jovians, foes though they were, die so frightfully. "Captain O'Hara, if we can repair the damage done by the marauders, we can now go on to Callisto and complete our mission. I—What's the matter, Captain?"
Cap O'Hara was glaring at his little finger irately.
"Matter? Why, confound it, I cut myself on that tin can. Look at this!"
He thrust before our noses a pudgy paw, the pinky of which was leaking very feebly. I chuckled. Not so Slops; he loosed one horrified gasp, and—
"Blood!" he screamed. "Oh, gracious, I simply can't stand the sight of blood! Oooooohh!"
His face went suddenly white. And—just like that!—Captain Slops fainted dead away!
The skipper said, "Well, I'll be damned!" Dazed, he knelt beside the little fellow, fumbled at his jacket collar. "Ain't that the funniest you ever saw, Dugan? Sees six ships scuttled without batting an eye-lash, and passes out at seeing a pinprick! Aw, well, it's probably shock more than anything else. I'll unloose his shirt, give him a little air—"
I said, "He's the queerest guy I ever met. But he's a man, Skipper."