we stop these natives without inflicting bloodshed? On
they came in their shambling, loose-gaited walk. Benson was unsnapping
his holster flap, and even the highly curious women were beginning to
shrink back toward the gangplank, when a light breeze swept through us
from behind. It rustled the grass softly and moved into the natives,
only 20 yards away.

The wavering line stopped again. Segments began to retreat, first
singly, then in pairs and groups. All but a handful of the most curious
suddenly bounded for the forest and disappeared.

The others came forward again, but with increasing bewilderment.
Repeatedly, they raised their noses and sniffed the air.

Bailey said from behind us, "They catch our scent and don't know what to
make of it. Thank heavens most of them took off. We can handle a dozen
of them easily enough."

Our people opened ranks and let the little creatures infiltrate. Sue
squeezed my arm. "Why, they're beautiful little things! They make me
feel self-conscious with my bleached-out skin. They certainly look
intelligent, those eyes--no fear in them at all--look, they're even
smiling!"

Indeed, several of the creatures were grinning broadly at the male
members of our party. They found our clothing amusing.

Now we could hear their soft voices conversing in a language that was
liquid with a great many compound vowel sounds, not unlike Earth's
Finnish tongue. Their quick, dark eyes seemed to take in everything.
They seemed torn between a consuming curiosity and a strong aversion to
our scent. One by one they satisfied the former and yielded to the
latter, dropping back and racing for the forest in great, joyous bounds
punctuated with happy little whoops of undefinable emotion.

At last only one, chesty little male was left. Benson exhaled heavily
beside me. "It's the little fellow we saw on the beach, Sam. Look, he's
coming through."

A tawny stripe of brown, furry hair ran from his high forehead, over the
crown of his proud skull and down his neck to fade into the typical,
deep, golden fuzz of his body. As he approached the ramp I saw that his
face was smooth, entirely free of hair as though clean-shaven.

By now Benson was as fascinated as the rest of us. I stepped down in
front of him to confront our visitor. I placed a hand on my chest and
said, "Sam Rogers!"

The dark eyes swept from my feet to my head and fastened upon my face.
He pointed four long fingers at me and repeated distinctly,