so, too. He was with the others, the next morning, squatting with
his staff across his knees, as bemused as any of them, but when the
pump stopped he rose and approached a group of Terrans, launching
into what could only be an impassioned tirade. He pointed with his
staff to the pump house, and to the semicircle of still motionless
villagers. He pointed to the fields, and back to the people, and to
the pump house again, gesturing vehemently with his other hand.

_You make the noise. My people will not work while they hear it.
The fields lie untended. Stop the noise, and let my people work._

Couldn't possibly be any plainer.

Then the pump started again. The Lord Mayor's hands tightened on the
staff; he was struggling tormentedly with himself, in vain. His face
relaxed into the heartbroken expression of joy; he turned and
shuffled over, dropping onto his haunches with the others.

"Shut down the pump, Dave!" Meillard called out. "Cut the power off."

The _thugg-thugg_-ing stopped. The Lord Mayor rose, made an odd
salaamlike bow toward the Terrans, and then turned on the people,
striking with his staff and shrieking at them. A few got to their
feet and joined him, screaming, pushing, tugging. Others joined.
In a little while, they were all on their feet, straggling away
across the fields.

Dave Questell wanted to know what it meant; Meillard explained.

"Well, what are we going to do for water?" the Navy engineer asked.

"Soundproof the pump house. You can do that, can't you?"

"Sure. Mound it over with earth. We'll have that done in a few hours."

That started Gofredo worrying. "This happens every time we colonize
an inhabited planet. We give the natives something new. Then we find
out it's bad for them, and we try to take it away from them. And
then the knives come out, and the shooting starts."

Luis Gofredo was also a specialist, speaking on his subject.

* * * * *

While they were at lunch, Charley Loughran screened in from
the other camp and wanted to talk to Bennet Fayon.

"A funny thing, Bennet. I took a shot at a bird ... no, a flying
mammal ... and dropped it. It was dead when it hit the ground,
but there isn't a mark on it. I want you to do an autopsy, and
find out how I can kill things by missing them."

"How far away was it?"

"Call it forty feet; no more."

"What were you using, Charley?" Ayesha Keithley called from the table.

"Eight-point-five Mars-Conso