extra menores carried
by the escort; we shall need them."

"Yes, sir!" Hendricks snapped a command and the landing force fell into
place behind us as we passed through the circular doorway, and out onto
the rocky ground of Strobus.

The procession stopped instantly, and the chanting died to a murmur.
The men forming the living wall on each side bowed their heads and made
a quick sign; a peculiar gesture, as though they reached out to shake
an invisible hand.

The leader of the procession, a fine-featured man with golden hair,
walked forward with bowed head, chanting a single phrase over and over
again in a voice as sweet as a woman's: "_Toma annerson ... toma
annerson ... toma annerson...._"

"Sounds friendly enough," I whispered to Hendricks. "Hand me an extra
menore; I'll see...."

The chanting stopped, and the Strobian lifted his head.

"Greetings!" he said. "You are welcome here."

* * * * *

I think nothing ever surprised me more, I stared at the man like a
fool, my jaw dropping, and my eyes bulging. For the man spoke in a
language of Earth; spoke it haltingly and poorly, but recognizably.

"You--you speak English?" I faltered. "Where--where did you learn to
speak this language?"

The Strobian smiled, his face shining as though he saw a vision.

"Toma annerson," he intoned gravely, and extended his right hand in a
greeting which Earth-men have offered each other for untold centuries!

I shook hands with him gravely, wondering if I were dreaming.

"I thank you for your welcome," I said, gathering my wits at last. "We
come as friends, from worlds not unlike your own. We are glad that you
meet us as friends."

"It was so ordered. _He_ ordered it so and Artur is His mouthpiece in
this day." The Strobian weighed every word carefully before he uttered
it speaking with a solemn gravity that was most impressive.

"Artur?" I questioned him. "That is your name?"

"That is my name," he said proudly. "It came from He Who Speaks who
gave it to my father many times removed."

There were many questions in my mind, but I could not be outdone in
courtesy by this kindly Strobian.

"I am John Hanson," I told him, "Commander of the Special Patrol
Service ship _Ertak_. This is Avery Hendricks, my third officer."

"Much of that," said Artur slowly, "I do not understand. But I am
greatly honored." He bowed again, first to me, and then to Hendricks,
who was staring at me in