"Freedom?" echoed Glanfil, as if scornful. "We hear of what freedom can be. Scant commons, rough beds, danger and damp. Better to toil honestly and fare well." "Aye," said a bigger slave, with a spade beard of reddish tinge. "Did not the Skygors help our first fathers, stranger, as now they help you?" "I've heard otherwise," Planter rejoined. "It seems there was a fight--the men were licked--the survivors made captive and put to work. That's what happened to me." "Best be silent," murmured Glanfil, bending close. "That talk makes few friends." * * * * * Planter changed the subject, asking various questions about Venus. His companions eyed him strangely as he displayed his ignorance, but made cheerful answer. The noise that had overwhelmed him was a vibrating metal instrument, they said. Their description made it sound like an organ of sorts. As he had surmised, it was always in some sort of operation, and could be turned on full force if need be. The Skygors, with senses meant to endure great noises, were not hurt by such a din, but human ears would be tortured if not quickly closed. "Our labors give the instrument power," informed Glanfil, rather proudly. Planter thought over his experiences of the day. "The Skygors have many human devices," he ventured. "Aye, that," agreed the big bearded one. "In the first days, our fathers brought many articles, which the Skygors developed and used." "There's what I'm driving at!" Planter broke in, forgetting Glanfil's council to be cautious. "They not only enslaved you, they took your ideas and improved themselves. I'll wager they were savages to begin with! And you're actually grateful for the chance to crawl at their big, webbed feet!" "This world belongs to the Skygors," spoke up one of the women as she washed dishes. "Without them we would be shelterless and foodless, like the weaklings they drove forth." Planter refrained to tell what he knew of the crossbow-girls. Plainly he was up against an attitude of content from which it would be hard to free his new companions--harder than to free them from guards and prison walls. He slept that night in a hammock-like bed, and next day worked at the machine. His toil was long, but not sapping, and food was good. Once a Skygor came to take his clothing, shoes and possessions, giving him a sleeveless shirt and shorts instead. Otherwise he was not bothered by the masters of the city. For days--perhaps ten--he followed this routine, masking his feeling of revolt. Then came a Skygor messenger to lead him away along under-water corridors to someone who had sent. At the end of the journey he entered an office. There sat the person he least expected to see. Disbro. "You rat," Planter began, but Disbro waved the insult aside. "Don't be a bigger ape than usual," he sniffed. "I've been able to do you a favor." "You didn't do me much of a one when I was captured," reminded Planter.