"When we can teach them not to tear up the furniture so much," Barbara replied promptly, as if she were talking about a couple of kittens that enjoyed sharpening their claws on the sofa. She went on, "If you're right, though, we really might be able to start trying to teach them."

"Might be worth doing. They'd enjoy it." Yeager was about to say something more, but paused, hearing footsteps on the front porch. If he could hear them, whoever was making them could hear him. A moment later, the mail slot in the front door opened. Envelopes landed on the rug. The footsteps went away. Sam said, "Let's see... to whom we owe money today." He wagged a finger under Barbara's nose. "You were going to nail me if I said, 'who we owe money to today.' "

"Of course I was," she answered. "That kind of grammar deserves it." But she was laughing; she didn't take herself too seriously, and didn't mind teasing about what she admitted to be her obsession. They went out together to check the mail.

"No bills," Yeager said with some relief, shuffling the envelopes. "Just ads and political junk."

"I won't be sorry to see the primary come," Barbara said. "It's still six weeks away, and look at everything we're getting. 'Junk' is right."

Yeager held up a flyer extolling the virtues of President Warren. "I don't know why his people bother to mail this stuff. He's going to get reelected in a walk, let alone renominated. Christ, I wouldn't be surprised if he won the Democratic primary, too."

"He's done a good job," Barbara agreed.

"I'll vote for him again, no doubt about it," Sam said. "And one of the reasons I'll vote for him again is that he doesn't take a lot of chances-which is probably why he has his people send this stuff out in carload lots."

"I suppose you're right," Barbara said. "But, since we already know what we're going to do..." She took the political flyers and the advertising circulars into the kitchen and pitched them in the trash.

"Good for you," Sam called after her. She was death on traveling salesmen, too. If they didn't back away in a hurry, they'd get their noses smashed when she slammed the door in their faces. Having grown up on a farm, where such visitors were always made welcome, Sam liked to chat with them. Half the time, he'd buy things from them, too. Barbara and he didn't have many arguments, but that could touch one off.

He went into the study and turned on the human-built computer that shared desk s.p.a.ce with-and used more of it than-the Lizards' machine he preferred. But the Lizards didn't have access to the rather fragmentary network that had grown up in the United States over the past few years. He certainly hoped they didn't, anyhow. Still, if he could sneak around through their electronic playground, they were bound to be trying to sneak around through the USA's.

Waiting for the screen to come to life (which also took longer than it did in the Lizard-built computer), he wondered how good his country's electronic security really was. He'd got in Dutch when he poked his nose in where it didn't belong-he'd bought himself a royal chewing-out from a three-star general when he tried to find out what was going on with the Lewis and Clark Lewis and Clark before the United States was ready to let anybody know the answer. before the United States was ready to let anybody know the answer.

With any luck at all, the Race would have as much trouble. But he hadn't tried to be sneaky. He supposed the Lizards would. And they'd been using computers as long as people had been counting on their fingers. How sneaky could they be if they put their minds to it?

That wasn't his problem. No: it was was his problem, but he couldn't do anything about solving it. He had other things on his mind, anyway. In his spare time-a concept ever more mythical, now that Mickey and Donald were around-he kept poking around, trying to find leads that would show either the his problem, but he couldn't do anything about solving it. He had other things on his mind, anyway. In his spare time-a concept ever more mythical, now that Mickey and Donald were around-he kept poking around, trying to find leads that would show either the Reich Reich or the USSR had blown up the ships from the colonization fleet. If he ever did find anything, he intended to pa.s.s it on to the Lizards. As far as he was concerned, that attack had been murder, and could have touched off a nuclear war. He wouldn't shed a tear if the n.a.z.is or the Reds got hammered on account of it. or the USSR had blown up the ships from the colonization fleet. If he ever did find anything, he intended to pa.s.s it on to the Lizards. As far as he was concerned, that attack had been murder, and could have touched off a nuclear war. He wouldn't shed a tear if the n.a.z.is or the Reds got hammered on account of it.

Thanks to his dealings with the Race, he had a security clearance that let him go almost anywhere on the U.S. network (not quite, as he'd found out when he went snooping after data on the Lewis and Clark Lewis and Clark). He'd found a couple of interesting archives of signals received just after the orbiting weapon, whosever it was, launched its warheads at the orbiting ships of the colonization fleet.

The screen went dark. After a moment, a message appeared: CONNECTION BROKEN. PLEASE TRY AGAIN CONNECTION BROKEN. PLEASE TRY AGAIN. Disgustedly, he whacked the computer. That happened all too often with it. "Miserable half-a.s.sed piece of junk," he growled.

Few men in the history of the world-no, of the solar system-had enjoyed the view Glen Johnson had now. There was Ceres below him: mostly dust-covered rock, with a little ice here and there. It was the biggest asteroid in the whole d.a.m.n belt, but not big enough to be perfectly round; it looked more like a roundish potato than anything else. The landscape put Johnson in mind of the heavily cratered parts of the moon. Rocks of all sizes had been slamming into Ceres for as long as it had been out there.

Colonel Walter Stone had a different way of looking at things. "That's the worst case of acne I've ever seen," he said.

"Yeah, any kid with that many zits wouldn't like high school a whole h.e.l.l of a lot," Johnson agreed.

"None of the other asteroids can tease Ceres, though," his mentor observed. "They're all just as ugly and just as pockmarked-or if there are any that aren't, we haven't found 'em yet. Still, no matter how ugly it is, we're in business here, and that's what counts."

"We've been in business for a while, too," Johnson observed. "I can't believe how fast we got here."

"Just a couple of months." Stone sounded as complacent as if he'd got out behind the Lewis and Clark Lewis and Clark and pushed. "You have to remember, Glen old boy"-he put on a British accent too fruity to be real-"this isn't one of those old-fashioned and pushed. "You have to remember, Glen old boy"-he put on a British accent too fruity to be real-"this isn't one of those old-fashioned rocket rocket ships. They're as out of date as buggy whips, don't you know." ships. They're as out of date as buggy whips, don't you know."

"And we could have been a little faster, too, if we hadn't swung wide to keep from coming too close to the sun." Johnson shook his head in slow wonder. "I wouldn't have believed how quick we could get here if I hadn't done the math-well, had the math done for me, anyhow."

"And if we hadn't been hanging around here in orbit for the past three and a half months," Stone added. "Except we're not really hanging around. We're going exploring. That's what it's all about."

"Finding that big chunk of ice only a few hundred miles away was a lucky break," Johnson remarked.

"That's not a chunk of ice-it's an asteroid," Walter Stone said. "And it was only part luck. There are lots of chunks of-uh, icy asteroids floating around here. The first exploration team saw that. No reason why one of 'em shouldn't be someplace where we can get at it."

Lieutenant Colonel Mickey Flynn, a large, solidly built fellow who let nothing faze him, floated into the control room. "I'm here a couple of minutes early out of the goodness of my heart," the Lewis and Clark Lewis and Clark's second pilot said, "so you poor peasants can get an early start on supper. I expect nothing in return, mind you. Worship isn't necessary. Even simple adoration seems excessive."

"You're what seems excessive," Stone said with a snort. Being senior to Flynn, he could sa.s.s him with, if not impunity, at least something close. "And why should we trust anybody who's named after a knockout drop?"

"That's Finn, my cousin," Flynn said in dignified tones. "Sa.s.senachs, the both of you. And Sa.s.senachs wasting their time getting out of here by giving a hard time to a son of Erin who never did 'em any harm."

Johnson undid his harness. "I'll go to supper," he said, unsnapping his safety belt. Now that the Lewis and Clark was Lewis and Clark was in orbit around Ceres, he didn't even have .01g to hold him in his seat. He pushed off, grabbed the nearest handhold, and then swung onto the next. Still snorting, Stone followed him. in orbit around Ceres, he didn't even have .01g to hold him in his seat. He pushed off, grabbed the nearest handhold, and then swung onto the next. Still snorting, Stone followed him.

Because of the banter they'd traded with their relief, the mess hall was already crowded when they got to it. Then the banter started up again. A woman called, "If you're here, who's flying the d.a.m.n ship?"

"n.o.body," Johnson shot back. "And if you don't believe me, go ask Flynn. He'll tell you the same thing."

"No, he'd say that was going on during the shift before his," somebody else returned. Walter Stone said something pungent. Johnson mimed being wounded. In spite of that, he was grinning. When he first involuntarily came aboard the Lewis and Clark, Lewis and Clark, people wouldn't give him the time of day. They treated him like a spy. A lot of people had thought he was a spy. people wouldn't give him the time of day. They treated him like a spy. A lot of people had thought he was a spy.

Now he was one of the crew. He might not have helped build the s.p.a.ceship, but he'd helped fly her. And even if he was a spy, he couldn't very well telephone whoever he was spying for, not from a quarter of a billion miles away he couldn't. What he could do, better than Stone or Flynn or anybody else, was fly the little hydrogen-burning rockets the Lewis and Clark Lewis and Clark used to explore the asteroids in Ceres' neighborhood. They weren't just like used to explore the asteroids in Ceres' neighborhood. They weren't just like Peregrine, Peregrine, the upper stage he'd flown countless times in Earth orbit, but they weren't very far removed, either. He understood them, the way his grandfather had understood horses. the upper stage he'd flown countless times in Earth orbit, but they weren't very far removed, either. He understood them, the way his grandfather had understood horses.

He didn't fully understand the dynamics of chow lines in weightlessness, not yet. At last, though, he drifted up in front of the a.s.sistant diet.i.tian, who gave him chicken and potatoes that had been frozen and dried out and were now reconst.i.tuted with water. They tasted like ghosts of their former selves.

With them, he got a squeeze bulb full of water and a lidded plastic cup full of pills: vitamins and calcium supplements and G.o.d only knew what all else. "I think we carry more of these than we do of reaction ma.s.s," he said, shaking the pills.

The a.s.sistant diet.i.tian gave him a dirty look. "What if we do?" she said. "If we get here but can't finish the mission because we're malnourished, what's the point of coming at all?"

"Well, you've got me there," Glen said, and drifted away. There weren't any tables or chairs-they were no good in weightlessness, or even in .01g. Instead, he snagged a handhold and started gossiping with some people who looked interesting-which was to say, at least in part, some people who were female.

More women had come along in the Lewis and Clark Lewis and Clark than he'd expected when he came aboard: they made up something close to a third of the crew. Very few of them were married to male crew members, either. Come to that, very few of the men were married. Johnson was divorced, Walter Stone a widower, Mickey Flynn a bachelor, and they were pretty typical of the crew. than he'd expected when he came aboard: they made up something close to a third of the crew. Very few of them were married to male crew members, either. Come to that, very few of the men were married. Johnson was divorced, Walter Stone a widower, Mickey Flynn a bachelor, and they were pretty typical of the crew.

And military rules about fraternization were a dead letter. The Lewis and Clark Lewis and Clark wasn't going home again. More people might come out, but n.o.body here was going back. People had to do the best they could with their lives out here, and to h.e.l.l with Mrs. Grundy. So far as Johnson knew, n.o.body'd got pregnant yet, but that wasn't through lack of effort. wasn't going home again. More people might come out, but n.o.body here was going back. People had to do the best they could with their lives out here, and to h.e.l.l with Mrs. Grundy. So far as Johnson knew, n.o.body'd got pregnant yet, but that wasn't through lack of effort.

"Hi, Glen," said the mineralogist, a brunette named Lucy Vegetti. She was on the plump side, but he liked her smile. He liked any woman's smile these days. She went on, "Have you heard about the latest samples up from Ceres?"

He shook his head. "Nope, sure haven't. What's the new news?"

"Plenty of aluminum, plenty of magnesium, plenty of all the light metals," she said. "All we need is energy, and we can get them out of the rocks."

"We've got energy, by G.o.d-we've got more energy than you can shake a stick at," Johnson answered, pointing back toward the engine on its boom at the rear of the Lewis and Clark. Lewis and Clark. "Just have to worry about getting it out." He was also worrying about getting it in, but not to the point where it made him stupid. Any man who lived by himself and didn't take advantage of the five-finger discount was a d.a.m.n fool, as far as he was concerned. "Just have to worry about getting it out." He was also worrying about getting it in, but not to the point where it made him stupid. Any man who lived by himself and didn't take advantage of the five-finger discount was a d.a.m.n fool, as far as he was concerned.

One of the ship's three doctors-everything aboard the Lewis and Clark Lewis and Clark was as redundant as anybody could figure out how to make it-said, "But we can't build everything we'll need for the project out of aluminum and magnesium." was as redundant as anybody could figure out how to make it-said, "But we can't build everything we'll need for the project out of aluminum and magnesium."

Johnson listened to Miriam Rosen with careful attention. He told himself he would have listened to her the same way even if she weren't a redhead who wasn't half bad-looking. Sometimes, for little stretches of time, he even believed it.

Lucy Vegetti said, "No, we can't build everything, but we can sure build a heck of a lot." She doubled in bra.s.s as an engineer, and was learning more about that part of her business every day. Redundancy again. Johnson was just glad he had one skill anybody aboard found useful. If he hadn't, he might have gone out the air lock instead of coming along for the ride.

"Can we really do this?" he asked. "Or will we all die of old age out here before it happens?"

For a little while, silence reigned around him. He grimaced. He'd asked the question too bluntly, and stuck his foot in it. People knew they were never going to see Earth again, but they didn't like to think about that when they didn't have to. Just when the pause threatened to become really awkward, Dr. Rosen said, "We'll probably find plenty of things besides old age to die of."

That produced another silence, but not one aimed at Johnson. He smiled his thanks toward her. She didn't smile back. He'd got to know she was like that: she spoke the truth as she saw it.

"I think we can do it," Lucy Vegetti said. "I really do. Oh, we'll need more help from back home, but we'll get that. The Lewis and Clark Lewis and Clark showed that we could make constant-boost ships. The next one that comes out will be better. We'll have a good start on things by then, too. Pretty soon, we'll be mining a good stretch of the asteroid belt. I think we'll find most of the metals we need, sooner or later." showed that we could make constant-boost ships. The next one that comes out will be better. We'll have a good start on things by then, too. Pretty soon, we'll be mining a good stretch of the asteroid belt. I think we'll find most of the metals we need, sooner or later."

"What about uranium?" Miriam Rosen asked. "Not likely we'll find much of that here, is it?"

Lucy shook her head. "We'd have to get lucky, I think. The asteroids aren't as dense as rocks back on Earth, which means there are fewer heavy metals around. But you never can tell."

Was she looking at Johnson when she said "get lucky"? He wasn't sure, and he didn't want to foul up a chance for later by messing up now. The rules on the Lewis and Clark Lewis and Clark hadn't fully shaken out yet, but one thing was already clear: the ladies did the choosing. Maybe things would have been different if there'd been two gals for every guy, but there weren't. hadn't fully shaken out yet, but one thing was already clear: the ladies did the choosing. Maybe things would have been different if there'd been two gals for every guy, but there weren't.

A couple of other male optimists came floating up to join the conversation. Johnson took his squeeze bags and lidded cup now empty of pills back to the a.s.sistant diet.i.tian. Nothing got thrown away on the Lewis and Clark Lewis and Clark; everything was cleaned and reused. That included bodily waste water: one more thing the crew preferred not to think about. A s.p.a.ceship beat even a nuclear-powered submarine as a self-contained environment.

Swinging out of the galley, Johnson went to the gymnasium. He logged in, strapped himself onto an exercise bicycle, and grimly began pedaling away. That helped keep calcium in his bones. He wondered why he was bothering. If he wasn't going back to Earth and Earth's gravity, who cared if his bones were made of calcium or rubber bands?

But orders prescribed at least half an hour of exercise every day. He'd been in the Army too long to think orders had to make sense. They were just there, and they had to be obeyed. On he pedaled, going nowhere.

In his time in Lodz, Mordechai Anielewicz had heard a lot of strange noises coming from alleys. Once, he'd foiled a robbery, though he hadn't caught the robber: the fellow had leaped over a wall-an Olympic-quality jump-and got away. Once, he'd surprised a couple making love standing up in a doorway. He'd felt like leaping over a wall himself then; Bertha still didn't know about that.

More often than not, though, noises down alleys meant animal fights: dog-dog, cat-cat, cat-dog. These furious snarls were of that sort, and under most circ.u.mstances Mordechai would have paid them no special attention. But, as he walked past the mouth of the alley, some of the noises proved to have a stridency the likes of which he'd never heard before. Almost before he knew what he was doing, he craned his neck to see what the devil was going on.

He was surprised enough to stop in midstride, one foot off the ground, till he noticed and made it come down. The alley was just an alley: cobblestones, weeds pushing up among them, a couple of dead vodka bottles. One of the beasts down it was a cat, sure enough; it was clawing at its foe like a lioness ripping the guts out of a zebra. But that foe...

"Gevalt, what is that thing?" Mordechai exclaimed, and hurried past a battered trash barrel toward the fight to find out. Whatever it was, he'd never seen anything like it. It was clawing at the cat, too, but it was also biting, and it had a very big mouth full of sharp teeth. Pretty plainly, it was getting the better of the fight, for the cat's claws and even its needle-sharp canines had trouble piercing its scaly hide. what is that thing?" Mordechai exclaimed, and hurried past a battered trash barrel toward the fight to find out. Whatever it was, he'd never seen anything like it. It was clawing at the cat, too, but it was also biting, and it had a very big mouth full of sharp teeth. Pretty plainly, it was getting the better of the fight, for the cat's claws and even its needle-sharp canines had trouble piercing its scaly hide.

Anielewicz stooped and grabbed a stick-always handy to have when breaking up a fight between animals-before advancing on the cat and the... thing. He hadn't taken more than a couple of steps toward the beasts when the cat decided it had had enough. It broke free of the fight and levitated up a wooden fence, leaving only bloodstains behind to prove it had been there.

The other animal was bleeding, too, though not so badly. Now that Mordechai got a good look at it, he saw it was smaller than the cat it had just mauled. It stuck out a long, forked tongue and licked a couple of its worst wounds. It was looking at him, too; while it tended to itself, one turreted eye swung in his direction to make sure he didn't mean trouble.

Realization smote him. "It must be from the Lizards'world!" he exclaimed: either that, or he was hallucinating. He shook his head; he couldn't have imagined anything so funny-looking. And he did remember hearing that the colonization fleet had brought along some of the Lizards' domesticated creatures. He hadn't expected his first meeting with one to be in an alley, though.

Now that it wasn't fighting, the Lizardy thing-he didn't know what else to call it-seemed to relax. When Mordechai didn't wave the stick or do anything else untoward, the animal turned both eye turrets toward him and let out an absurdly friendly squeak.

He laughed. He couldn't help himself. Snarls and hisses were one thing. He would have expected noises like those from a small creature that could take on a cat and win. He hadn't expected the thing to sound like a rubber squeeze toy.

Whatever he thought of the noises the animal made, it didn't like the ones he made. It streaked past him, nimble as a champion footballer getting past a midfielder who only stepped onto a soccer pitch as a weekend amus.e.m.e.nt. It was, he thought, even faster and more agile than a cat, though it had shown no signs of being able to climb.

Out on the street, someone exclaimed in surprise: "What was that that?" "What was what?" somebody else-a woman-said. "I didn't see anything."

Anielewicz laughed again as he threw down the stick and walked out of the alley. Some people were always unlucky enough to miss things. He wondered if this lady would ever have another chance to see an animal from another planet.

He also wondered, in a different and more urgent way this time, what an animal from another planet was doing in an alley in Lodz (besides fighting a cat, that is). He hadn't intended to go by the Bialut Market Square-Bertha was reluctant to let him anywhere near the place, too, after his fiasco with the peasant woman selling eggs-but Bunim's headquarters looked out onto it. He didn't suppose the Lizards would mind talking about the animals they'd brought to Earth.

As he started for the market square, he laughed again. He wasn't likely to have much immediate interest in animals from Home, and neither was any other Polish Jew. How likely were they to divide the hoof and chew a cud? Not very, which put them beyond the pale as far as he was concerned.

People and a few Lizards crowded the square. Since Mordechai wasn't shopping, he ignored the frantic haggling in Yiddish and Polish and, every now and then, the hisses and pops of the language of the Race. He strode up to the building from which the Lizards administered this stretch of Poland-along with the shadow governments of the Jews and Poles. The guards in front of the building were alert, as they had reason to be. "What do you want?" one of them asked in pa.s.sable Polish.

The male didn't recognize him. Well, that was all right; he had trouble telling one Lizard from another. "I just saw an animal..." he began, also sticking to Polish-he could do a better job of describing the creature in that tongue than in the Race's.

"Ah," the guard said when he was through. "That is a beffel. They will will run wild. 'Crazy as a beffel on a leash' is a saying in our language." run wild. 'Crazy as a beffel on a leash' is a saying in our language."

"A beffel," Mordechai repeated-now he had a name for the beast. "What good is it? Do you eat it, or is it just a pet?"

"Eat a beffel? What an ignorant Tosevite you are." The guard's mouth dropped open in amus.e.m.e.nt. So did his partner's. "No. It is only a pet, as you say."

"All right. I am am ignorant-I'd never seen one till now. It was fighting a cat," Anielewicz said. "Are they going to start running loose all over the place now?" ignorant-I'd never seen one till now. It was fighting a cat," Anielewicz said. "Are they going to start running loose all over the place now?"

"I would not be surprised," the guard replied. "They get to be nuisances back on Home. So do tsiongyu."

"What's a tsiongi?" Mordechai asked.

"Another kind of pet, larger," the guard said. "You speak some of our language, to know the singular when you hear the plural."

"Truth," Anielewicz answered, shifting to the language of the Race. "So: are we to be overrun with animals from Home?"

"If we so choose," the Lizard replied. "We rule this part of Tosev 3. We have the right to bring in the beasts on which we feed-and we are doing that, too-and the beasts that are our friends. What business do you have to say otherwise?"

That was a pretty good question, although the male sounded arrogant even for one of his kind. Mordechai didn't try to answer it. Instead, he asked a question of his own: "How will your animals like the winters here in Poland?"

By the way both guards winced, he knew he'd struck a nerve. "We cannot know that until we find out by experiment," said the one who was doing the talking. "The hope is that they will do well. I certainly hope this. Our beasts are better eating than your Tosevite animals."

"Truth." The other guard proved he could talk.

Anielewicz wondered if he needed to go inside and talk with Bunim. He decided he didn't. He'd learned everything he needed to know from the regional subadministrator's guards. Bunim wouldn't stop bringing his kinds of animals into Poland just because Mordechai asked him to. Europeans had brought cows and pigs and dogs and cats to America and Australia. Why wouldn't the Race bring its creatures to Earth? The Lizards had come to stay, after all.

And the Poles probably wouldn't mind the new domestic animals one bit. They didn't have to worry about keeping kosher. Mordechai chuckled, wondering how soon some strange meat would start turning up in Polish farmwives' pots and how soon Polish leather makers would start tanning new kinds of hide. Sooner than the Lizards expect, Sooner than the Lizards expect, he thought. Yes, the Poles were very likely to turn into-what did the Westerns imported from the United States call cattle thieves? he thought. Yes, the Poles were very likely to turn into-what did the Westerns imported from the United States call cattle thieves? Rustlers, Rustlers, that was it. And an old joke about the recipe for chicken stew floated through his mind. that was it. And an old joke about the recipe for chicken stew floated through his mind. First, steal a chicken. First, steal a chicken.

"Do you need anything else?" the first guard asked.

If that wasn't a hint for Anielewicz to clear out, he'd never heard one. "No. I thank you for your time," he said, and made his way back across the Bialut Market Square. These days, he was always in the habit of keeping an eye open for possible a.s.sa.s.sins: amazing what a burst of submachine-gun fire through the door would do. Now, though, he also kept an eye out for befflem and tsiongyu. He wouldn't have known a tsiongi if it walked up and bit him, not really, but any sort of alien animal that wasn't a beffel would do for one till he knew better.

No doubt because he was on the lookout for the Race's pets, he saw none as he went back to the flat. All the way there, though, he kept thinking about how the beffel had laid up that cat. Cats were tough; not many Earthly animals their size could take them on and win. What did that say about how rugged other beasts from Home were liable to be? Did it say anything at all? n.o.body could predict a cow from a cat, so why was he trying to figure out what the Race's equivalent of a cow would be like from extremely brief acquaintance with a beffel?

Then he paused, smiling in spite of himself. The Lizardy creature had squeaked most endearingly. He wondered what sort of pet a beffel would make for a human being. Would it accept a person as a master, or would it think he was a large, fearsome wild animal?

His son Heinrich would like to know the answer to that question, too. Heinrich couldn't see a stray dog without saying, "Can we keep it?" The answer, in a flat none too big for the people who lived in it, was inevitably no, but that didn't keep him from asking.

Over supper-chicken soup with dumplings-Mordechai talked about the beffel. Sure enough, Heinrich exclaimed, "What a great-sounding animal! I want one! Can we get one, Father?"

Before Anielewicz could answer, Heinrich's older sister Miriam said, "A thing that looks like a little Lizard? That's disgusting! I don't want anything that looks like a Lizard here." She made a horrible face.

"A beffel looks about as much like a Lizard as a cat or a dog looks like a person. It's about so long"-Mordechai held his hands thirty or forty centimeters apart-"and goes on all fours."

"Like a regular lizard-not like one of the Race, I mean?" His daughter sounded no happier. "That's even worse."