The meteor bounded closer, so that it was almost touching their ship. Now they could see tiny mounds on its surface, about the size of walnuts. "Good grief!" said Steve. "It's got eyes. Like...." "Like a potato," finished Myra. The meteor bounced off again and stood stationary for a moment. "What'd you say?" Steve asked. "I said, 'I'm a married woman. But stick around.'" "Fine," said Steve. "Nothing like a little comedy to buck one up in moments fraught with suspense. What's it doing now?" The meteor was whirling again in a state of industrious agitation. Suddenly it stopped. A white, sticky substance began to pour out of it. As it grew it congealed into something resembling frosted glass, which formed a gigantic bubble, big enough to enclose several ships the size of the Horns. There was a large opening at one point. The transparent bubble drifted toward them. Before they could move they had entered it through the opening. The meteor-ship followed them, then spurted some more of the gelatine substance, sealing the opening. A nozzle poked its way through the hull of the golden ship. Through the hull of their ship they could hear a hissing noise. Presently it stopped. The nozzle was withdrawn. Their neighbor hopped over to them again. One of its "eyes" expanded until it was the size of a basketball, and transparent. More letters of fire, much smaller now, appeared within. "AIR," they said. "EARTH AIR SAFE OPEN DOOR." A section of the golden ship dropped. On it stood a creature less than two feet tall, colored a deep bronze. Vaguely terrestrial in shape, it stood on one thick limb which became its body without widening at what might be called its hips. It terminated below in a ball-shaped foot and above in a shapeless bumpy head, featureless, except that each of the bumps seemed to be an eye. Three arms, of various sizes, each with different joints, extended from its body--one just below the head, in front, one halfway down on its left side and one at what should have been the top of its right thigh. It was a thoroughly unnerving spectacle. "My two-headed aunt!" cried Steve. "The side show's in town." "No remarks," said Myra. "You should see yourself in the morning. But what are we going to do about it?" "Ask it to tea." He twisted a little wheel on the control board. "I'll have the data in a minute. Maybe the little fella isn't lying. Maybe there is air in the bubble." "Temperature 72°, humidity 84 percent," announced Steve. "Tomorrow fair, with slowly rising food prices." "Laugh and you laugh alone," said Myra. "I don't understand it, but do we let him in?" "Sure. Maybe he can play rummy." Steve stepped on the treadle that started the motor in the airlock. The lock rumbled slowly outward. "Steve--" Myra's voice was a little uncertain. "Maybe the instruments aren't working?"