Robert Silverberg

“ They moved further and further into the tangle of foliage that was the Venusian jungle, while the gray clump of buildings that was Venus City receded dimly behind them.
It was hot in the jungle, hot and moist. Elliot's hair plastered itself to his forehead, sweat trickled into his eyes, steam fogged the windshield. After a while, he brought the jeep to a halt.
Blayne wiped sweat from his wobbling chins and looked up. "What's going on?"
"You drive," Elliot said. "I'm bushed."
"No," Blayne said. "You're doing the driving in this outfit. That's your job—that's what I've hired you for. Get going. ”

“ How could we take a live bird the size of that one back through the jungle? We'd need a cage of chrome steel. No, I'm going to shoot it. We can take the head and skin back—that'll be enough."
Elliot scowled, and felt sick. The Dragonbird—a trophy! The concept disgusted him. He looked away, toward the island.
The Dragonbird had begun to feed on the small animal. It was ripping into it viciously with its talons and powerful beak.
"It'll be easy," Blayne went on. "I'll put a bullet through the bird so as not to ruin it, and then we'll use ray guns on the natives to get rid of them." ”

“ The natives never come to this side of the river, by the way—the hunting's better over there."
"Give me the glasses," Blayne whispered.
Elliot handed the binoculars over and the fat man stared hungrily at the island.
"See anything?"
"Just natives," Blayne said. He handed back the glasses and Elliot looked at the little knots of mauve-skinned natives here and there on the island.
"Don't they have any guards?"
Elliot shook his head. "No. They stick to their belief that the Dragonbird will protect them from any invaders."
"Good," Blayne said. "So much the simpler for us. When do we get moving?" ”

“ He knew Housten Blayne. Blayne was the Venusian Commissioner for the Interplanetary Trade Board.
"You were in a brawl in a tavern, Mr. Elliot," said Blayne mildly. "I could revoke your pilot's papers for that. It might even appear that you were—ah—intoxicated when you smashed up the Space Needle. Naturally we couldn't let you take off in the Space Needle II, could we?"
Elliot saw the picture then. The fight in the bar had been staged. Blayne had shrewdly framed him in order to get him to lead him to the Dragonbird. And the fat man could do everything he said he would. Elliot was in his pocket. ”

“ It had taken him five years, but it was worth it. The insurance money from the crashed Space Needle had just barely covered the down payment on the new ship, and it had taken five years to pay for the rest of it. ”