"Yes. The test of final and complete subservience. It must be proven beyond all doubt that they know their masters." "You don't think they're aware yet that we _are_ their masters?" "I'm sure they know. It only remains to be proven." Cleve glanced up at Larkin. "Maybe this is as far as we should go today. We've made marvelous progress." That characteristic wave of Larkin's hand; the gesture of the empire builder brushing away mountains. "Why wait? I want to get this thing over with. You said yourself they're under our thumb." Cleve pondered, staring at the Martians. "Very well. There's really no reason to wait." Larkin smiled and turned toward the diggers, only half visible now from the depths of the ditch. He walked forward, appearing to exercise more care, this time, in the selection of his subject. Finally, he pointed at one of the Martians. "You--fella! Come here!" Several of them looked at one another a trifle confused. "You--damn it! What are you waiting for?" One of them climbed slowly from the trench. While he was engaged in so doing, Smith noticed two things. He saw the look of rage, simulated or otherwise, that came into Larkin's face. And he saw Cleve's fingers tighten on the edge of the table. Larkin had a gun in his fist; a roar in his voice. "When I talk--you jump! Get that? All of you!" He fired three bullets into the Martian's brain. The latter slumped grinning to the ground. Larkin, his breath coming jerkily, stood poised on the balls of his feet. The men at the table sat frozen--waiting. Around them--on the plain--some two hundred Martians stood motionless. _The final test_, Smith thought. _To prove they're cattle._ * * * * * A full minute passed after the echo of the gun faded out. Silence. And nothing. The Earthmen picked up their breathing where they'd dropped it. Larkin's breath exploded in savage voice--triumphant voice. The Martians were his. "Come on, some of you! Dig a hole and bury that carrion! And if anybody still wonders who's boss around here--let him step forward!" "They took it!" Cleve whispered. "Glory be--they took it!" Four Martians climbed grinning from the trench. They faced Larkin and stood as though awaiting instructions. "Dig there," Larkin said. They went stolidly to work and Larkin pocketed his gun, making the pocketing a gesture of contempt. "You see," Cleve said, with the tone of one explaining an abstract problem, "we were at somewhat of a disadvantage because they are incapable of indicating emotion by facial expression. Thus the last test was necessary. If we could have judged the degree of fear previously instilled, that last might not have been necessary." "Just as well to have a double check nonetheless," Dane said. "Look at them! You'd think nothing out of the ordinary had happened."