holding it in both hands ; he bowed his head as the grass- wrapped body was placed in the little grave and covered .
Then , when the cairn was finished , he replaced it , drew his pistol and checked the chamber .
"That does it, Jack, " he said . " I am now going to arrest Leonard Kellogg for the murder of a sapient being ."
VIII
JACK HOLLOWAY HAD BEEN OUT on bail before , b u t never for quite s o much . I t was almost worth i t , though , t o see Leslie Coombes's eyes widen and Mohammed Ali O'Brien's jaw drop when h e dumped the bag o f sunstones , blazing with the heat o f the day and o f his body , on George Lunt's magisterial bench and invited George t o pick out twenty - five thousand sols ' worth . Especially after the production Coombes had made o f posting Kellogg's bail with one o f those pre-certified Company blank checks.
He looked a t the whisky bottle i n his hand , and then reached into the cupboard for another one . One for Gus Brannhard , and one for the rest of them . There was a wide- spread belief that that was why Gustavus Adolphus Brannhard was practicing sporadic law out here i n the boon docks of a boon - dock planet , defending gun fighters and veldbeest rustlers . I t wasn't . Nobody on Zarathustra knew the reason , but i t wasn't whisky . Whisky was only the weapon with which Gus Brannhard fought off the memory o f the reason .
He was i n the biggest chair i n the living room , which was none too ample for him
a mountain o f a man , with tousled gray - brown hair , his broad face masked i n a tangle o f gray- brown beard . He wore a faded and grimy bush jacket with clips o f rifle cartridges on the breast , no shirt and a torn undershirt over a shag o f gray - brown chest hair . Between the bottoms o f his shorts and the tops o f his ragged hose and muddy boots , his legs were covered with hair . Baby Fuzzy was sitting on his head , and Mamma Fuzzy was on his lap . Mike and Mitzi sat one on either knee . The Fuzzies had taken instantly t o Gus . Bet they thought h e was a Big Fuzzy .
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