The Diamoraii's huge, loping animals closely resembled Terrestrial giraffes. The beasts were pitch-black and ran with a gait beautifully adapted to the jungle. They came on with a liquid, side-stepping motion. They neatly leaped the twisted tree-trunks, swayed out of the path to avoid a cluster of high-pile blossoms, and trampled to a stop fifty yards in front of the _Wallower_. "Stations!" Shreve yelled into the p-a mike. He turned back to the view-plate, staring at the black beasts. There were twelve of them, each with a depression in its back in which a Diamorai sat, clutching the flanks of the thin, black animal with his knees. Twists of pliant material looped through the beast's noses served both as bridle and reins. The twelve Diamoraii leaped agilely from their mount's backs, began looking at each other with indecision. They milled about the stomping animals for a minute, then each went to a bulky pouch slung across his beast's back-depression. They fumbled in the pouches. Shreve turned the plates up to higher magnification, whistling through his teeth. "Wheeew! What magnificent creatures! Did you see the way they ran that jungle like broken-field quarterbacks?" From beside him the agreeing mutter of the pudgy psych officer blended with the busy clicking of the analyzers, totaling their counts. "Those look to be the people we have to contact, Karl," Shreve added, motioning toward the Diamoraii who were dragging objects from their pouches. "A young people," Teller mused, his face flushed. "A young and a virile people. Shouldn't have any trouble getting through to them." He turned a plate knob to sharper register. The Diamoraii had advanced on the ship. They were almost humanoid. Tall--almost six and a half feet each with very long legs and boney, knobbed knees. Their legs seemed to represent almost half their bodies. Wide-shouldered, V-shaped chests; obviously large-lunged. Otherwise, despite the wide-spaced, large-irised eyes, they were almost humanoid. As Shreve and Teller watched, they each donned a hideous devil-mask. * * * * * "Ugh!" Shreve blurted, his face drawing up into a picture of agony. "What ghastly greeting cards _those_ are! If that's a sample of their demonology, I'd hate to see them exorcising one of the poor devils: probably frighten the thing to life!" Teller was leaning closer to the screen, his small eyes watching the twelve with undisguised fascination. He was talking more to himself than his superior. "Must be religious symbols of some sort. Must have put on their Prayer-day best just to come see us." Shreve looked at Teller sharply. "You don't suppose they think we're gods or something?"