"Because they're out to get me, man! They want to knock me off, pin my balls to their totem pole. And if they get me, they get my buddy, too."

"Nobody's out to get you, Frank. It isn't the Ku Klux

Klan out there."

"Sure. Sure. Just wait. You want to be my buddy, man? Then they'll be out to get you, too."

"Listen," Kinsman insisted. "They're down on you be- cause you've been behaving like a paranoid sonofabitch."

Colt smiled coldly. "Maybe you're right. Maybe I ought to act more humble . . . Yassuh, Massa Kinsman, suh. I's shore powerful grateful that y'all took notice of a po' li'l ol' darky lak me."

Grinning, Kinsman said, "Go to hell, Frank."

Immediately Colt replied, "Why this is hell, nor am I out of it."

With a shake of his head, "All I can say, buddy, is that you sure know how to break up a party. And T was just starting to get someplace with Mary O'Hara."

"That's her name, huh?" Colt made an enigmatic little 34 shrug, as if he were carrying on a debate within himself. Then he said, "Guess I owe you for breaking up the evening. Come on in, I've got a bottle of tequila in my flight bag."

"Say no more!"

By the time Major Tenny knocked on Colt's door he and Kinsman were sitting on the floor, passing the half-empty bottle back and forth with elaborate care. Colt climbed slowly to his feet and walked uncertainly to the door. The Major's squat bulk filled the doorway.

"Nice little show you put on down there. The poor bastard damn near drowned."

"Too bad," said Colt.

Tenny walked in and spotted Kinsman sitting on the floor, his back against the bunk. "What the hell are you guys up to?"

Kinsman waved the bottle of tequila at him. "Cultural relations, boss. We're studying the effect of tequila consump- tion on the gross national product of Mexico."

"Our good neighbor to the south," Colt added. "Tequila?" Tenny strode swiftly to Kinsman, bent down, and yanked the bottle from his hand. He sniffed at it, then tasted it. "Dammitall, this is tequila!"

"What'd you expect?" Kinsman asked. "Hydrazme?" Tenny shook his head, a frown on his swarthy features.

"I can't let you men drink a whole bottle of tequila. You'll be in no shape for duty tomorrow morning."

"I have an idea!" Colt said brightly. "Why'n't you help us finish it up? Might save our lives."

"And our immortal souls," Kinsman muttered.

"To say nothing of our immoral careers," Colt added.

"That's immortal, not immoral."

"You have your career, I'll have my career."

Tenny scowled at them both. "If you think you can manage to shut the door, I'll do my best to help you out." Within moments Tenny was sitting on the bare wooden floor between the two lieutenants, his back propped against the bunk.