and one of them is, no
pushing people out of line. Teach the buggers that now and we won't
have to work so hard at it later." He called back over his shoulder,
"Situation under control; get the show going again."

The natives were all grimacing heartbrokenly with pleasure. Maybe
the one who got thrown on his ear--no, he didn't have any--was not
one of the more popular characters in the village.

"You just pulled your gun, and he dropped the knife and ran?"
Gofredo asked. "And the others were scared, too?"

"That's right. They all saw you fire yours; the noise scared them."

Gofredo nodded. "We'll avoid promiscuous shooting, then. No use
letting them find out the noise won't hurt them any sooner than
we have to."

Paul Meillard had worked out a way to distribute the picks and
shovels and axes. Considering each house as representing a family
unit, which might or might not be the case, there were picks and
shovels enough to go around, and an ax for every third house. They
took them around in an airjeep and left them at the doors. The
houses, he found, weren't adobe at all. They were built of logs,
plastered with adobe on the outside. That demolished his theory
that the houses were torn down periodically, and left the mound
itself unexplained.

The wheelbarrows and the grindstone and the two crosscut saws
were another matter. Nobody was quite sure that the (nobility?
capitalist-class? politicians? prominent citizens?) wouldn't simply
appropriate them for themselves. Paul Meillard was worried about
that; everybody else was willing to let matters take their course.
Before they were off the ground in their vehicles, a violent dispute
had begun, with a bedlam of jabbering and shrieking. By the time
they were landing at the camp, the big laminated leather horn had
begun to bellow.

* * * * *

One of the huts had been fitted as contact-team headquarters, with
all the view and communication screens installed, and one end
partitioned off and soundproofed for Lillian to study recordings in.
It was cocktail time when they returned; conversationally, it was a
continuation from lunch. Karl Dorver was even more convinced than
ever of his telepathic hypothesis, and he had completely converted
Anna de Jong to it.

"Look at that." He pointed at the snooper screen, which gave a view
of the plaza from directly above. "They're reaching an agreement
already."

So they seemed to be, though upon what