"I guess so."
"It probably had one. The Stevensons last year at Venus Joe's. Isn't that what it said—as Mr. Stevenson?"
Harry agreed, but he didn't really care. He had fallen in love—with a girl who didn't exist.
"Buck up," I said.
"It's all right for you to say."
"No. Buck up, will you?"
"What for? What the hell for?"
"Because Venus on the Half Shell has a chance now. Because we killed a Wompan. It's only the fourth one ever and we're going to get a lot of free publicity—which ought to make this place."
"Yeah, that's true," Harry said. But his heart wasn't in it.
"We'll take pictures," I said. "We'll write it up and send in into Spaceman's magazine and we'll have it made. Sportsmen will be flocking here for a crack at Wompans. No wait. I have a better idea. We'll take pictures and write it up and you'll deliver our story in person to Spaceman's magazine on Earth."