"That was one hell of a game," Martin declared, leaning back andconsidering the apelike countenance before him.
"Yes, we bigfeet are pretty good, if I do say it. It's our onebig recreation, and we're so damned primitive we don't have much inthe way of boards and chessmen. Most of the time, we just play it inour heads. There're not many can come close to us."
"How about unicorns?" Martin asked.
Grend nodded slowly.
"They're about the only ones can really give us a good game. Alittle dainty, but they're subtle. Awfully sure of themselves,though, I must say. Even when they're wrong. Haven't seen any sincewe left the morning land, of course. Too bad. Got any more of thatbeer left?"
"I'm afraid not. But listen, I'll be back this way in a month.I'll bring some more then if you'll meet me here and play again."
"Martin, you've got a deal. Sorry. Didn't mean to step on yourtoes."
He cleaned the saloon again and brought in a keg of beer which heinstalled under the bar and packed with ice. He moved in some barstools, chairs and tables which he had obtained at a Goodwill store.He hung red curtains. By then it was evening. He set up the board,ate a light meal, unrolled his sleeping bag behind the bar and campedthere than night.
The following day passed quickly. Since Tlingel might show up atany time, he did not leave the vicinity but took his meals there andsat about working chess problems. When it began to grow dark, he lita number of oil lamps and candles.
He looked at his watch with increasing frequency. He began topace. He couldn't have made a mistake. This was the proper day. He—
He heard a chuckle.
Turning about, he saw a black unicorn head floating in the airabove the chessboard. As he watched, the rest of Tlingel's body