"Oh, no, sir. I didn't mean about the engineering or supervision. It's about handling the natives, and getting more out of them. You've said I was getting out more ore than the others, and I think perhaps I've got a few ideas--a sort of hunch about making the Greenies themselves more productive." "Well, come in, come in then. What is it?" "I've been doing a lot of thinking about the Greenies, sir. You remember I thought they were vegetable matter, and the way they feed themselves they'd need ground that either has lots of natural chemicals in it, or that has been well-fertilized, to keep 'em well and strong. That being the case, the dirt that forms the floors of their huts and stockades would very quickly become exhausted of those vital chemicals, and the natives would begin suffering from malnutrition, it seems to me. My gang has been slowing down recently, although they still seem to be trying as hard as ever." "Why ... why, yes," the superintendent's eyes had widened in surprise as Hanlon talked. "That makes sense. Imagine none of us thinking of that! But then, we've always thought of them merely as dumb beasts." "So I've been wondering if it wouldn't be a good idea either to move the stockades every month or so, or else let the natives 'feed' out in the open jungle every day--the sunlight would probably help them, too, being vegetable. They could be tied together and guarded, of course, so they couldn't escape." Philander slumped down into his chair in deep thought, and Hanlon glowed inwardly with the hope that something would come of this plan. It would help him with Philander, if it worked. Also, it would help the Guddus, for Geek had often grown almost hysterical when complaining about the terrible hunger they all felt so continuously. Suddenly Philander sat erect. "I believe we've got a few sacks of commercial nitrates in the storehouse. Let's experiment and see if they can use that." He rose purposefully from his desk and the two hurried to one of the warehouses. There Philander soon found the sacks of chemical, and Hanlon carried one as they went to the corral. "May we try it on my crew first, sir?" he asked anxiously. "They seem to sort of like me, and I've learned more or less how to guess their reactions by their facial movements, so I think I could tell whether they like it or not." "Sure, that's a good idea," and they went on to the compound that housed Hanlon's special crew. Inside, while Hanlon apparently chose at random, it was actually Geck to whom he beckoned. When the native approached, feigning fear and reluctance--Hanlon hid a sudden grin at Geck's unexpected acting brilliance--the young man opened the sack and poured out a little of the nitrate. He stooped over and stuck his fingers into the stuff then rose and gestured to Geck to put his feeding fingers into it the same way. Meanwhile Hanlon was telepathing the exact information to his friend, as best he could with his limited ability.