LITTLE FUZZY

by

H. Beam Piper







I


Jack Holloway found himself squinting, the orange sun full in his eyes. He
raised a hand to push his hat forward, then lowered it to the controls to
alter the pulse rate of the contragravity-field generators and lift the
manipulator another hundred feet. For a moment he sat, puffing on the
short pipe that had yellowed the corners of his white mustache, and looked
down at the red rag tied to a bush against the rock face of the gorge five
hundred yards away. He was smiling in anticipation.

"This'll be a good one," he told himself aloud, in the manner of men who
have long been their own and only company. "I want to see this one go up."

He always did. He could remember at least a thousand blast-shots he had
fired back along the years and on more planets than he could name at the
moment, including a few thermonuclears, but they were all different and
they were always something to watch, even a little one like this. Flipping