"Us die swiftly away from sunlight," Geck said sadly. "Us have very long life-span, but underground work make us wither-die fast. Idea often discussed among we to discontinue race, because soon all we be gone anyway." That quiet, hopeless statement made Hanlon madder than a wet cat. "What do the shock-rods do to you?" he asked after a while. "Affect we's nervous system some way. Us get most terrible cramps. Is horrible agony. Us so thankful you never use." "I knew you would work without them as long as you were treated fairly." To himself Hanlon swore a determined oath to finish this business entirely, some way or another. He realized his limitations--one young, inexperienced man against twenty ruthless, wealth-and-power greedy ruffians ... and that only here, at this one mine. No telling how many others there were on Algon, besides all those back on Simonides, and who knew what other planets, who were in on this plot. His heart clamored for swift action--his brain counselled caution and careful planning. Chapter 15 Hanlon was sitting at his usual place in the mine one day when one of the barrow-men ran up and spoke swiftly to Geck, who turned to Hanlon, alarm on his face. "Big boss man come." Hanlon jumped to his feet. "Get everyone to work; tell them to act real busy!" he snapped. "You, too!" He thrust the frequency-transformer into a hole prepared for just such an emergency, grabbed up his shock-rod and stepped closer to the natives. He was standing there, to all appearances strictly on the job of making his charges work, when Philander came crawling up the rise into the pocket where this crew was mining the glossy, lustrous pitch-blank uraninite ore. "How're things going?" the superintendent greeted Hanlon with at least the appearance of friendliness. "Just fine," the young man responded. "Everything's under control." "Been looking over the reports, and see your crew is getting out more ore'n any of the others," the super's voice held just a tinge of anxiety, and Hanlon began probing that mind to see if he could discover just what all this portended. "I just keep 'em at it," he shrugged. "No trouble?" "Nope, no trouble. Look at 'em," he waved his hand at the busy crew. The big man regarded them closely, and could see that every single one of the natives was working at what he knew was their top speed, and without a single slacker. Even the barrow-men were moving almost at a jog-trot rather than the lazy saunter most natives used in an effort to do no more than they were forced to do. Philander shook his head wonderingly. "How d'you do it?" he asked. "The other guards have to keep shocking one after another of the lazy dogs, yet you've made no move at a single one--and they keep right on hustling. I've never seen a crew work so hard."