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But this colonist merely grinned.

“By law,” he observed, “you have to accept thanar leaves as legal tender, at five credits a kilo. Send out a truck for your payment. I’ve got six tons in my barn, all ready to turn in.”

He made a most indecorous gesture and walked out. A moment later, he put his head back in.

“I forgot,” he commented politely. “You said I couldn’t afford to tell you to go to hell. With six tons of thanar leaves on hand, I’m telling you to—”

He added several other things, compared to which telling Carson to go to hell was the height of courtesy. He went away.

Carson went a little pale. It occurred to him that this colonist was a close neighbor of Lon Simpson. Maybe Lon had gotten tired of converting dhil weed and shiver leaves into green peas and asparagus, and had gotten to work turning out thanar.

Carson went to Lon’s farm. It was a very bad road, and any four-wheeled vehicle would have shaken itself to pieces on the way. The gyrocar merely jolted Carson severely. The jolting kept him from noticing how hot the weather was. It was really extraordinarily hot, and Carson suffered more because he spent most of his time in an air-conditioned office. But for the same reason he did not suspect anything abnormal.