Into the clearing he trod--and then recoiled with amazement. Before him stood a human figure! A small man, perfectly, beautifully proportioned, radiating a golden aureole and crowned by curly, yellow locks of hair. He seemed fragile, incredibly delicate, yet he bore himself with buoyant ease, a result of the lighter gravitational pull of the planet, and in his eyes sparkled whirling motes of color that lent to him an air of unimpeachable intelligence. Michel Drawers advanced slowly toward the man. His towering bulk looming massively with strikingly primitive and brutal aspect in comparison to the statuesque lines and angelic beauty of this native son. "Who? Who are you?" Michel Drawers questioned, his loud, rough voice almost artificial in an obvious attempt at impossible gentleness. The aura of golden light seemed to thicken about the form of the little man. Softly, Drawers thought he heard: "I, strange one, am Persum, dweller in the city of Saeve. In all my years I have never known a man like you. From whence do you come?" Drawers was rigid, surprise-struck. He had heard or thought he heard words as clear, as plain as words could be--_yet he had seen no lips move_, knew that no sound, other than his own voice had pierced the air. "Telepathy," he uttered in awe. "Mental telepathy." "Telepathy? Telepathy?" an unspoken voice returned. "We have no such word in our language. What is its meaning?" "To communicate without sound--by thought." A look of comprehension dawned upon the golden man's features. "Ah, yes. Here, in my city, all men speak by thought--that is the purpose of this radiance which surrounds me--to help pick up and to transmit thoughts. Apparently your race is not so gifted. I wondered why you writhed your lips peculiarly when you questioned me! Your brain must be a very powerful one indeed to transmit thoughts without any natural aid." Drawers laughed inwardly at the unexpected compliment. Men had often told him that he possessed a marvelous physique, but no one had ever attempted to hint that his brain was other than passably mediocre, even poor. And here, the most intelligent little man he had ever met--not over five feet tall--a man with the power to transmit thoughts telepathically--an achievement that practically no earthman could boast, had told him that he was unusually gifted in a mental sort of a way. It was funny, ironic. Suddenly Drawers became almost timid in the presence of this superb little creature. There was almost a god-like quality about him. An innate goodness, kindness, that could be taken for granted. "Would you care to partake of our hospitality?" came an inviting thought. The invitation brought a gasp of amazement to Michel Drawers' lips, and also a trace of suspicion.