Steve sighed. "I like the way you think of these things just _after_ the nick of time. If that were so, we'd be frozen corpses by now. The door's open. It's a little muggy, but that's all." Now they could see the bronze midget more clearly. He looked no more inviting at close range, being wider and heavier than they had imagined, but what he lacked in looks he made up for in affability. He waved all three arms at them once, like a happy windmill. Steve waved back. "Nice day," he said. * * * * * The creature left off waving at them and signalled his ship. It drifted closer soundlessly, until the two ships were touching. "Look," whispered Myra. "He's all over fuzz. Like a peach." [Illustration: _"Look," whispered Myra, "he's all over fuzz, like a peach!"_] Steve craned his neck to look down at their visitor, who had stepped onto the platform of their ship and seemed to be inspecting their knees with great interest. Steve squatted down until he was almost on a level with their guest. He held out his hand. The fuzzy one let it overflow in one of his curious three-fingered hands and looked at it critically. He couldn't tell whether he was being looked at and listened to, or not. The creature's eyes were scattered all over its gold-hair-covered head. Their pupils were hairlike, resembling those of a horse. A low-pitched hum, rising and falling, ceasing occasionally, came from the three-armed one. It emanated from no particular spot, but surrounded him like an aura. "No savvy," said Steve. "C'mon. I want to see how you walk." * * * * * He got up and stepped backward. The creature followed, in an effortless, gliding motion. He appeared to have a ball set into a socket of his foot, which, combined with a delicate sense of balance, gave him a wonderful mobility. Abruptly he turned, gave a little hop to his own craft and disappeared. "What do you make of that?" Myra asked. "He just remembered a previous engagement," soothed Steve. "What's the matter, darling--jealous?" In a moment the creature reappeared, carrying a plain black box, about six inches square. "I told you he played rummy," said Steve. "Look--he brought chips." He set the box on the floor and threw back a lid. Inside the lid were three fine wires that ended in buttons. He handed one each to Myra and Steve and took one himself. "Now," said a metallic voice, "we'll be able to understand each other." The Horns looked at each other, then at the animate piece of bronze fuzz. At the same time the voice had spoken, there had been the hum they assumed to be his method of communication. Steve's eyebrows shot up in inquiry. "Does that thing act as a translator?" As he spoke, a hum came from the box. "Exactly," said the box, while the bronze one hummed. "Amazing," murmured Myra. "This should take the place of the self-lighting cigarette. Speaking of which, how about one? We'll be burning up Peach's air, not ours."