spent half an hour in it while he was away for his comfort
break.
"We're getting close to the head," Galpert said ex-
citedly, handing over the lockbox that contained the
papers. "I have a feeling" He broke off as sharp voices
were suddenly raised a few spaces behind. A small, pale-
haired man with bulging blue eyes was attempting to
force himself into line between Third Back and Fifth
Back.
"Say, isn't that Four Back?" Hestler asked.
"You don't understand," the little man was whimper-
ing. "I had to go answer an unscheduled call of na-
ture . . ." His weak eyes fixed on Fifth Back, a large,
coarse-featured man in a loud shirt and sunglasses. "You
said you'd watch my place . . . !"
"So whatta ya think ya got a comfort break for, ya
bum? Beat it!"
Lots of people were shouting at the little man now:
"Line-me-ucker-bucker-line bucker, line bucker . . ."
The little man fell back, covering his ears. The abscene
ahant gained in volume as other voices took it up.
"But it's my place," the evictee wailed. "Father left
it to me when he died, you all remember him . . ." His
voice was drowned in the uproar.
"Serves 'him right," Galpert said, embarrassed by the
chant. "A man with no more regard for his inheritance
than to walk off and leave it . . ."
They watched the former Fourth Back turn and flee,
his hands still over his ears.
After Galpert left on the wheel, Hestler aired the queue-
bana for another ten minutes, standing stony-faced, arms
folded, staring at the back of One Up. His .father had
told him some stories about One Up, back in the old
days, when they'd both been young fellows, near the end
of the line. Seemed he'd been quite a cut-up in those
days, always joking around with 'the women close to him
in line, offering to trade places for a certain considera-
tion. You didn't see many signs of that now: just a dumpy
old man in burst-out shoe-leather, 'sweating out 'the line.
But he himself was lucky, Hestifer reflected. He'd taken
over from Father when the latter had had 'his stroke, a
twenty-one thousand two hundred and ninety-four slot
jump. Not many young fellows did that well. Not that he
was all that young, he'd put in his time in the line; it
wasn't as if he didn't deserve the break.
And now, in a few hours maybe, he'd hit the head of
the line. He touched the lockbox that contained the old
man's papersand of course his own, and Cluster's and
the kids'everything. In a few hours, if the line kept
moving, he could relax, retire, let the kids, with their own
