Of course what struck the passengers first was neither the atmosphere nor the gravity; it was us. They never failed to be surprised, although the travel folders should have shown them what to expect. One of the folders had a picture of me, amusingly crude and two-dimensional, it's true, but not entirely unflattering. I'm not really purple, just a sort of tender fuchsia, but what could you expect from the rudimentary color processes they used? Sam had let me have the original and I always wished I could show it to Mother, but I couldn't without having to explain where it had come from. "They're so cute!" a thin female screamed. "Almost like big squirrels, really, except for all those arms." Her teeth protruded more than those of the small rodent she was thinking about, or than mine, for that matter. "Be careful, ma'am," the guide warned her. "They speak English." "They do? How clever of them. Why, they must be quite intelligent, then." "They are of a pretty high order of intelligence," the guide agreed, "although their methods of reasoning have always baffled scientists. Somehow they seem to _sense_ scientists, think of them as their enemies, and just clam up entirely." "I think they're just simply too cute," she said, gazing at me fondly. "Ah, _srrk_ yourself, madam," I excogitated, confident that humans were non-telepathic. * * * * * She looked a little disturbed, though; I'd better watch myself. After all, as leader I had to set a good example. "This here is Qan," the guide introduced me. "Headman or chief or something of the tribe. He is always on hand to greet us." "Welcome, travelers from a distant star," I intoned, wrapping my mother's second-best cloak more impressively about me, "to the humble land of the _Gchi_. Come in peace, go in peace." "Why, he speaks excellent English," the scientist exclaimed. "They pick up things very fast," Sam explained. "Natives can be very, very shrewd," a stout female commented, clutching her handbag tightly. "And now," Sam said, "we will visit the rude dwellings of this simple, primitive, but hospitable people." "_People!_" Ppon projected. "You better mind your language, Buster! People, indeed!" "Our friend Qan will lead the way." Sam waved toward me. I smiled back at him, but didn't move. "Whatsa matter?" he hissed. "Don't you trust me? Your old pal Sam?" "No," I whispered back. "Last time I let you pay me at the end of the tour, the take was $3.75 short." He tried another tack. "But look, Qan, it's a hell of a job getting all those coins together. Why can't you take paper money instead?" "What good would paper money do me up here?" "What I can't figure out is what good the metal does you up here, either." I beamed. "We eat it." Muttering to himself, he walked over to the ship and called one of the crewmen. They dragged a bag out of the ship's hold. Puffing, they laid it at my feet. I tossed it to Ztul.