half a minute with his hands full of contraption. He held a box-like
arrangement under his left arm; in his right hand were two metal caps
connected to the box by wires.

While the patrolmen watched him, he set the box on the ground, twirled
two dials and put one of the caps on his head. He offered the other to
Larry Dermott; his desire was obvious.

Trained to grasp a situation and immediately respond in manner best
suited to protect the welfare of the people of New York State, Dermott
cleared his throat and said, "Tim, take over while I report."

"Hey!" Casey protested, but his fellow minion had left.

"Mandaia," Dameri Tass told Casey, holding out the metal cap.

"Faith, an' do I look balmy?" Casey told him. "I wouldn't be puttin'
that dingus on my head for all the colleens in Ireland."

"Mandaia," the stranger said impatiently.

"Bejasus," Casey snorted, "ye can't--"

Dermott called from the car, "Tim, the captain says to humor this guy.
We're to keep him here until the officials arrive."

Tim Casey closed his eyes and groaned. "Humor him, he's after sayin'.
Orders it is." He shouted back, "Sure, an' did ye tell 'em he's in
technicolor? Begorra, he looks like a man from Mars."

"That's what they think," Larry yelled, "and the governor is on his way.
We're to do everything possible short of violence to keep this character
here. Humor him, Tim!"

"Mandaia," Dameri Tass snapped, pushing the cap into Casey's reluctant
hands.

Muttering his protests, Casey lifted it gingerly and placed it on his
head. Not feeling any immediate effect, he said, "There, 'tis satisfied
ye are now, I'm supposin'."

The alien stooped down and flicked a switch on the little box. It
hummed gently. Tim Casey suddenly shrieked and sat down on the stubble
and grass of the field. "Begorra," he yelped, "I've been murthered!" He
tore the cap from his head.

His companion came running, "What's the matter, Tim?" he shouted.

Dameri Tass removed the metal cap from his own head. "Sure, an' nothin'
is after bein' the matter with him," he said. "Evidently the bhoy has
niver been a-wearin' of a kerit helmet afore. 'Twill hurt him not at
all."

* * * * *

"You can talk!" Dermott blurted, skidding to a stop.

Dameri Tass shrugged. "Faith, an' why not? As I was after sayin', I
shared the kerit helmet with Tim Casey."

Patrolman Dermott glared at him unbelievingly. "You learned the language
just by sticking