The linguist kicked a pebble. "I forgot to ask them why they did that. I guess they figured my gesture of offering a weapon didn't mean much unless I was vulnerable to the weapon myself. Or maybe they felt that, if I came in good faith, I'd come without protection. Anyway, they didn't want to shoot me just to find out, so they tested it on the ship and decided I was--er, on the level. If it _had_ been on, they'd probably have shot me immediately with the crossbow. Or maybe they'd have figured out what the glow was and shot me without testing it. Then they'd have gone back in the tunnel and sealed it up for good." He suddenly laughed aloud, face alight with pleasure and surprised realization. "For the first time on this trip, I'm glad I've never had any military experience! If I'd been well-trained, that field would have been turned on!" Gordon's strained face relaxed. He looked at Stuart in awe, and put an arm around his shoulders. After a moment he said, musingly, "What do we do next? We've got to get back, but we also ought to see this through when the brass gets here." Stuart's reply was prompt. "You go back. Leave me food for a couple of days and tell Patrol to bring me what I need for a long stay. I'll see this thing through." "Can I take a picture of you tomorrow with the Azuran big chief? It'd look swell in the papers back home." Gordon's tone was bantering. The linguist looked him in the eye. "I wish you would," he said, soberly.