was no
protection against the elements rippled slightly in the chill current of
air that flowed down the mountainside. "I will go talk with the others,"
he said in English.

"Go talk," said Bolden, trying not to shiver. He replied in native
speech, but a few words exhausted his knowledge and he had to revert to
his own language. "Take the gifts with you. They are yours, no matter
what you decide."

The native nodded and reached for a pair of goggles. He tried them on,
looking out over fog and mist-shrouded slopes. These people of Van
Daamas needed radar less than any race Bolden knew of. Living by
preference in mountains, they had developed a keenness of vision that
enabled them to see through the perpetual fog and mist far better than
any Earthman. Paradoxically it was the goggles they appreciated most.
Extending their sight seemed more precious to them than powerful
carbines.

The native shoved the goggles up on his forehead, smiling with pleasure.
Noticing that Bolden was shivering, he took his hands and examined them.
"Hands sick?" he queried.

"A little," said Bolden. "I'll be all right in the morning."

The native gathered up the gifts. "Go talk," he repeated as he went
away.

* * * * *

Lee Bolden sat in the copter and waited. He didn't know how much
influence this native had with his people. He had come to negotiate, but
this might have been because he understood English somewhat better than
the others.

A council of the natives would make the decision about working for the
Earthmen's settlement. If they approved of the gifts, they probably
would. There was nothing to do now but wait--and shiver. His hands were
getting numb and his feet weren't much better.

Presently the native came out of the fog carrying a rectangular wicker
basket. Bolden was depressed when he saw it. One gift in return for
goggles, carbines, ammunition. The rate of exchange was not favorable.
Neither would the reply be.

The man set the basket down and waited for Bolden to speak. "The people
have talked?" asked Bolden.

"We have talked to come," said the native, holding out his fingers. "In
five or seven days, we come."

It was a surprise, a pleasant one. Did one wicker basket equal so many
fine products of superlative technology? Apparently it did. The natives
had different values. To them, one pair of goggles was worth more than
three carbines, a package of needles easily the equi