"It's way down this wide street. Oh fine!" Kunklin swore gloomily, attempting at the same time to keep his face impassive. Fortunately, Earthmen were humanoid. If they were not, of course, the Galactics would never have allowed this to happen. And if experience on other planets of this culture level was any judge, these people here would think the Galactics and the suits were some kind of stunt. But though this accident had happened quite often to other Galactic agents, it had never happened to them, and they were apprehensive. They eyed the crowd warily as they walked. Grinning, giggling, pointing, the crowd eyed them back, and followed. Out into the street they went, two tall, undeniably weird-looking men unable to keep their embarrassment from their faces. One wide-eyed little boy ran up to Prule, grabbed at his sleeve with taffy-smeared fingers. He chirped loudly to his parents to "looka the space men." The mother came up, politely disengaged his fingers, gave a smiling, unintelligible apology to Prule. Prule nodded as graciously as he could, tried to walk faster. "Listen," Prule groaned, "the power is too low to work the translator. Suppose we're stopped? We can't talk to them." "Here comes one in a uniform," said Kunklin, beginning to perspire. "Police?" "Yes." "I suggest we run." They broke into a trot. The crowd around them had grown rapidly and began to trot with them, wondering where the show would take place. The policeman ran too. They let out their speed. Now a whole host of people began to shout and new ones joined them, running, as they crossed a main street against a light. "Faster," grunted Kunklin. Prule swore. "I can't. The suit's too heavy." "Just a little way. When we get to the ship we'll put on a demonstration." They tore down the avenue, narrowly evading children, old ladies, and newsstands. Two more blue-coated officials joined in the chase, converging and blowing whistles. Several more were coming up in front of them when they finally reached the ship. They stopped in the center of the wide street. Traffic screeched to a halt on all sides. "Are you sure it's here?" Kunklin looked around uneasily, then spied the faint hazy circle of the opening, several feet in the air above them. He pushed at his anti-gravity knob, felt himself lightening, but not lifting. He swore. The crowd was reaching them, small boys and men lurched to a stop around them. "They're waiting for us to do something," Prule hissed. "Quick! Before the police get here! Jump!" Prule looked up helplessly at the hazy circle. "How"--he began, but Kunklin pushed him aside, assumed a broad stance in the center of the crowd. He thrust his arms outward dramatically, as if for silence. Just then the first cop broke through and into the center of the circle and began to speak virtuously, angrily, in the manner of cops, but the people around him were staring at Kunklin and waiting expectantly.