Still, somehow his mind could not shift from the ever-present danger. Possible exhaustion of his food supply; the energy heating units of his space suit--of water. Once again his thoughts turned to the humor provided by the strange inhabitants of Ganymede. He called out sharply to one of them: "How are you old chap?" "How're _you_ all chap," the grating reply floated back, thinned by the sparse atmosphere. Some guttural effect in the creature's voice seemed to place the emphasis on the word "you." And it sounded uncannily like a return question, infinitely more so than the echo-like effect it should have had! And also the speech had improved! Very definitely improved! Where before they had relayed back his sentences in an indistinguishable blur of sound, now some of the words stood out, sharp, clear! "This chap doesn't need enunciation lessons," John muttered softly to himself. And as if to prove it the lips of the creature moved erratically, as if talking to itself in the identical manner that John had just done. "Nice weather we're having," John phrased ironically as small flakes of ice formed on the end of his nose. "Like hell it is!" came back the surprise retort. John stood there aghast. The creature had emitted the very same reply that he had been _thinking_, but had not voiced! The Ganymedian in front of him took on a more surprising aspect with each passing moment. For some reason nature had bestowed upon this travesty of human form a telepathic mental pick-up. Similar, in results, to the ones in use on earth, except that this was not a mechanical device. It was, undoubtedly, a far more efficient receiver of flesh and blood, or whatever substance this thing was composed of, capable of picking up thought waves as simply as a radio receiver picks up radio waves. "It can do anything but understand," John found himself saying. He could only wonder why some scientist had not discovered these creatures before and dissected them to find out just how their peculiar brains operated.