Marched out? Huh! This time we sauntered out. We were feeling very carefree and confident, you see, that everything was hunky-dory. Why not? We had been on the verge of signing the new peace pact when darkness interrupted us.... That blind, trusting confidence almost cost us our lives! The Themisites were again gathered around our ship. But when we stepped from the airlock--we stepped out into a hail of lethal fury! [Illustration: We stepped out of the ship--right into a hail of rocks!] * * * * * It was a good break for us that the Themisites had no modern weapons. A couple of Haemholtz pistols in the paws of capable users, or even one .54 millimetre rotor, and yours truly wouldn't be here to chronicle the ensuing events. But the four-legged scoundrels' armaments were fortunately on the barbaric side. Stones and cudgels, crudely forged spears, incompetently carven bows and arrows that were as inaccurate as a real estate agent's descriptions ... these were the weapons with which we were assailed. Cap Hanson caught a nice sized chunk of rock amidships, and one of the crewmen had his shoulder opened up by a wobbling spear, but those were our only casualties. Above the hub-bub and furore--the Themisites were howling like a mob of unleashed demons--Lanse cried, "_Back into the ship, quickly!_" Which was a command requiring no repeat performance. For the next three seconds the airlock port looked like Bargain Day at the Girdle Counter. Then we were all inside once more, safe at home but sore as a student equestrian's coccyx. The Old Man bellowed, "Unlatch the rotors! Treacherous villains, I'll learn 'em to attack Earthmen! We'll blast them clean off the face of their nasty, sneakin' little globe, the good-for-nothin' horses--" But Lanse said, "No, Dad--please! Wait a while!" "Wait? What for?" "There's something distinctly unusual about this," pondered Lancelot gravely. "A few hours ago they were friendly; now they are screaming for our blood. I don't understand it. But you know my motto: '_Get the theory first!_' If I can learn _why_ they changed so abruptly--" "What difference does it make why they changed? They did, didn't they? That's all that counts--" "No, Dad. The important thing is not to overwhelm the Themisites, beat them into submission. It is to settle our differences for all time, establish an enduring peace--" He turned to me--"Sparks, get on the wire, will you? I want a complete report from Earth on the previous peace treaties signed with Themis. Who signed them ... when ... under what circumstances ... everything we can learn." "O.Q.," I said. "It's your business. But my money bets on the Skipper's plan. 'Civilize 'em with a gun' is _my_ motto." Biggs shook his ungainly head disapprovingly. "That form of reasoning," he declared, "died with the dictatorships. Now, get on the key, Sparks. And, oh--while you're at it, see if there's any news from Diane, will you?"