“But your race kills and conquers,” he said. “Mine doesn’t. That’s why these creatures don’t think I’m a master. And when your race destroys itself, these other races will remain here--” He rose, shrinking away from Skip and Oscar. “Have you a light to show me to my ship?” he asked. I took a flashlight and escorted him from the house. Skip and Oscar watched us from the door, in quiet unconcern. Out in the field beside his ship, Provvorr looked wan in the flashlight’s beam. “Good-bye,” he said. “We won’t attempt to colonize this monster-thronged world. It’s as you said. We would feel as you would feel among snakes. I can understand that feeling as it is registered in your mind.” “Then,” I said, “if my race ends the way you say, the world will belong to animals. Perhaps dogs will rule--or cats, or mice. Home folks, anyway. Maybe they’ll do better than we could ever hope to do.” “Since we won’t come here,” said Provvorr, “would you like to know how to avoid destroying yourself?” “How?” I cried eagerly. His smile was tight as he studied me carefully. “When I tell you, it will seem simple.” And how simple it seemed as he told me, just before he left. So simple, the way to stop wars and conquests and destruction--I hope it won’t sound ridiculous when I pass it on to the United Nations. Transcriber’s note: This etext was produced from Fantastic Universe, May 1955 (Vol. 3, No. 4.). Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed. Obvious errors have been silently corrected in this version, but minor inconsistencies have been retained as printed.