"No like trouble with white policemen," he said, "but your plan seems only way to save hunting ground from seekers of feathers. I will help--you, my friend of many seasons." He spoke without moving his lips--because he wasn't using his lips. His voice was toneless, mechanical. It came from a small microphone attached to his throat. The impulse for the microphone came from the pulsations of his bloodstream which he could control. Venusians were a strange race--being deaf and dumb and having the power to read brain waves were only a few of their peculiarities. Flint grinned. "I don't know why I take the trouble to come all the way down the path, Greeno. You could pick up my thoughts from the cable just as well." Then, in a hurry to get on with his business, "Is there anything you didn't understand?" "One thing not clear--something you must have planned before coming into range," the toneless voice said. "You wish me to meet your plane on way to Ring, kidnap man from you and bring him here," he ran through the plan he'd picked up from Flint's mind. "Then I radio message about ransom--a million dollars. But how will money be delivered?" "Simple," Flint explained. "The guy's fur company sends the money to the Saturn Express Agency. We tell them to put it in a small rocket and shoot it toward the Ring. We'll make them put a radio-signaling gadget into the rocket, too. All we'll have to do is follow the signal and pick up the rocket before we let the guy go." The plan was foolproof; there was no way the police could prove anything on anybody. "No," Greeno agreed with his thoughts, "their evidence against you purely circumstantial. Me, they never guess." "That's it." Flint strode toward the space-ship hull with the radio set. "Where you want this? Have your finger on it at eight tonight and I'll radio the guy's description." Although Greeno couldn't hear, he could pick up radio vibrations by touch. Greeno followed him into the cylinder, motioned toward a table in the corner. The place was battery-lighted, soft-walled with hides. "I'll have to put up a little fight when you leave my plane," Flint said. "Make it look better--" But Greeno held up his hand, motioned him on out the door. "Can't pick up thoughts inside," he reminded him. Flint went out grinning; he could never get used to the fact that the Venusian was reading his mind, not hearing his words, and that he couldn't pick up the waves when he was surrounded by metal such as the ship's hull. Outside, he started to tell him again about having to put on the fight act. But Greeno stopped him. "Understand now," he said. Flint laughed. Even a spoken "Good luck" wasn't necessary. He turned, went back down the trail thinking it was a good thing the Stellar Patrol hadn't been able to get Venusians to work for them. "Very good thing," Greeno called after him. * * * * *