But Smith wished that he had time to hunt one of the herbivores that were the loper's natural prey-six-legged like the loper but otherwise resembling a misshapen okapi- their meat was much milder. They were called "prairie goats," which they were not, but systematic taxonomy of fauna and flora on New Beginnings had not gone far; there had been as yet no time for such intellectual luxuries. Smith had shot a prairie goat from the seat of the wagon a week earlier (now only a memory, bittersweet, of tasty tender meat). Smith did not feel justified in taking a day off to hunt until they had conquered Hopeless Pass. But he kept hoping for another chance shot.
Maybe now- Fritz! Lady Macbeth! Here!" The dogs trotted up and waited. "High sentry. Loper! Prairie-goat! Up!" The dogs immediately got on the very top of the lead wagon, making it in two jumps and a scramble, step, seat, and curved top. There they split the duty, nigh side and off side- and there they would stay until told to get down. Smith had paid a stiff price for the pair, but he had known they were good dogs; he had picked their ancestors on Earth and had fetched them with the first wave. Smith was not a "doggie" man in any fanatic sense; he simply believed that a partnership that had lasted so long on Earth would serve men equally well on strange planets.
Dora was sobered by her husband's words, but once she got busy working, she cheered up. Shortly, while trying to plan a menu, from little choice and without a cooking fire, she came across something that vexed her-good for her as it displaced her worrisome thoughts. Besides, she did not really believe that her husband could fail at anything.
She came around the end of the second wagon, crossed the little kraal to where her husband was making sure that his fence was tight, "Oh, that pesky little rooster!"
Woodrow looked around. "Hon, you look cute in just a sunbonnet."
"Not just a sunbonnet, I'm wearing hoots, too. Don't you want to hear what that nasty little rooster did?"
"I would rather discuss how you look. Adorable, that is. Nevertheless, I'm not pleased with the way you are dressed."
"What? But it's so hot, dear. Since I can't wash, I thought an. air bath might make me smell better."
You smell good to me. But an air bath is a good idea; I'll peel down, too. Your gun, dear-where's your, belt with your knife and gun?" He started shucking his overalls.
You want me to wear my gun belt now? Inside the fence? With you here to protect me?"
As self-discipline and a standard precaution, my lovely one." He hitched his own gun-and-knife belt back into place as be stepped out of his overalls, then pulled off boots and shirt and got bare save for the belt and three other weapons that did not show when he was dressed. "In more years than I like to think about I have never been unarmed except when locked in somewhere safe. I want you to acquire the habit. Not just sometimes. Always."
"All right. I left my belt on the seat; I'll get it. But, Woodrow, I'm not much of a fighter at best."
"You're fairly accurate with that needle gun up to fifty meters. And you're going to get better and better the longer you live, with me. Not just with it but with anything that shoots, cuts, burns, or even makes nasty bruises, from your bare hands to a blaster. See over there, Dorable?" He pointed to nothing but flatness. "In just seven seconds a horde of hairy savages will come pouring over the top of that rise and attack. I get a spear through my thigh and go down...then you have to fight them off for both of us. What are you going to do, you poor little girl, with your gun clear over them on the seat of that wagon?"
"Why"-she set her feet apart, put her hands back of her head, and gave a wiggle that was invented in the Garden of Eden, or perhaps just outside-"I'll' go this way at 'em!"
"Yes," Lazarus agreed thoughtfully, "that should work. If they were human. But they aren't. Their only interest in tall, beautiful, brown eyed girls is to eat them. Bones and all. Silly of them, but that's how they are."
"Yes, dear," she said docilely. "I'll go put on my gun belt. Then I'll kill the one who speared you. Then I'll see how many more I can get before they eat me."
"That's right, durable Dorable. Always take an honor guard with you. If you have to go, go down fighting. The size of your guard of honor determines your status in hell."
"Yes, dear. I'm sure I'll enjoy hell if you're there, too," She turned to fetch her weapons.
"Oh, I'll be there! They wouldn't take me anywhere else. Dora! When you put on your gun belt, take off your sun-bonnet and boots-and put on your rubies, all of them."
She paused with a foot on the step of the wagon. "My rubies, dear? Out here on the prairie?!"
"Rangy Lil, I bought those rubies for you to wear and, for me to admire you wearing them."
She flashed a smile that turned her normally serious expression into sunshine, swung on up into the wagon and disappeared. She was back quickly wearing weapons belt and rubies but had taken a few seconds to comb her hair-long and chestnut brown and shining. That she bad not been able to bathe for more than two weeks did not show, did not detract from her enchanting, youthful beauty. She paused on the step and smiled at him.
"Hold it!" he said, "Perfect! Dora, you are the most beautiful thing I have ever seen in all my born days."
She flashed him another smile. "I don't believe that, my husband-but I hope you will go on saying it."
"Madam, I cannot tell a lie. I say it only because it is the simple truth. Now, what were you saying about the little rooster?"
"Oh! That perverted little monster! I said he had been breaking eggs on purpose! This time I caught him. Pecking them. Two freshly laid broken eggs!"
"Royal prerogative, dear. Afraid one of them would hatch out a rooster."
"I'll wring his neck! If we had a fire, I'd do it right now. Darling, I was trying to see what we could eat cold without opening anything not already open, and it occurred to me that salt crackers crumbled into raw eggs would almost make a meal. But there were only three eggs today and he broke the two laid by his hens. I'd put plenty of grass in both cages; the one egg on the other side wasn't even cracked. Damn him. Woodrow, why do we have to have two roosters?"
"For the same reason I carry two throwing knives. Sweetheart, alter we arrive and hatch our first chicks, once they're big enough that I'm certain of a spare rooster, we can have rooster and dumplings with him as guest of honor. Not before."
"But we can't have him breaking eggs. Tonight's supper will be mostly cheese and hardtack-unless you want me to open something."
"Let's not rush it. Fritz and Lady Mac are trying to spot game right now. Prairie goat, I hope. Loper if not."
"But I can't cook meat. You said. You did say-"
"Raw, my dear. Haunch of prairie goat, chopped fine, and spread on hard crackers. Beef Tartare a la New Beginnings. Tasty. Tastes almost as good as girl." He smacked his lips.
"Well...if you can eat it, I can eat it. But half the time, Woodrow, I don't know whether you are joking or not."
"I never joke about food or women, Dorable; those are sacred subjects." He looked her up and down again. "Speaking of women, woman, dressing you in rubies is just right. But why a bracelet around your ankle?"
"Because you gave me three bracelets, sir. As well as rings and a pendant. And you said to wear all of them."
] "So I did. Where did this one come from?"
"Hey! That's not a ruby; that's me!"