"Truly, he speaks as with a full mouth. But this is not Bilken talk." "Nor is he, of clarity and also profundity, a hill man," the girl observed. "Poot. Pootpoot," the young man stuttered, "the light! He is of _Them_!" It took the other two a moment to understand what he meant, but Travis caught on immediately. May the Saints preserve us, he thought, they figured I was from Mert. He chuckled happily to himself. A natural mistake. Only one Earthman on this whole blinking planet, puts up at a good hotel, best in town, these boys put the snatch on me thinking I'm a visiting VIP, loaded, have no idea I'm just poor common trash like the rest of us Earthmen. Haw! His face split in a wide grin. He gathered his words from the Langkit and began to speak in Mert. "Exactly, friends. With clarity one sees that you have been misled. I am not of Mert. I am from a far world, come here to deal with your Senate in peace. Untie me, then, and let us erase this sad but eraseable mistake with a good handshake all around, and a speedy farewell." It did not have the effect he desired. The girl stepped back from him, a dark frown on her face, and the large man above him spoke mournfully. "Where now is the ransom?" "And the risk," the girl said. "Was not there great risk?" "Unhappily," the tall man observed. "One risks. One should be repaid. It is in the nature of things that one is repaid." "Well now, boys," Travis put in from the floor, "you see it yourselves. I'm flat as a--" he paused. Apparently the Merts had no word for pancake. "My pockets are--windy. No money is held therein." "Still," the tall man mused absently, "this must have friends. On the great ships lie things of value. Doubt?" "Not," the girl said firmly. "But I see over the hills coming a problem." "How does it appear?" "In the shape of disposal. See thee. Such as will come from the great ships, of value though it be, can it not be clarifiably identified by such pootian authorities as presently seek our intestines?" "Ha!" the tall man snorted in anger. "So. Truth shapes itself." "Will we not, then," continued the girl, "risk sunlight on our intestines in pursuing this affair?" "We will," the young man spoke up emphatically. "We will of inevitability. Navel. Our risk is unpaid. So passes the cloud." "But in freedom for this," the girl warily indicated Travis, "lies risk in great measure. Which way lie his ribs? Can we with profit slice his binds? He is of Them. What coils in his head? What strikes?"