Why? Marla wondered. What fascination had there always been between alien cultures, that had always made one attempt to instruct the other in its ways? Certainly Ronal was no scientist, no explorer. Yet, as though he were an appointed ambassador of his own kind, he was attempting the always risky job of finding a common level of understanding with an alien mind. Or perhaps it was just natural curiosity, and an overabundance of self-confidence! Ronal had imitated the creature's all-fours shamble until he was beneath the tree limb. "Careful," Marla said. "Don't give him the idea you're trying to steal his fruit, or we will be in trouble." Far out from where the fruit hung, Ronal stood up slowly. Then he raised his arms, opened his hands, touched the limb with his fingers. Then he dropped back to the all-fours position, and repeated the standing up process. Then at length, he pointed to the Hairy One, to the position under the limb above which the fruit swung, and backed slowly to where Marla stood, fascination in her eyes. The Hairy One remained immobile. There seemed no flicker of comprehension in his flat, black eyes. Then suddenly, for the quickest flash of an instant, he came almost erect, his arms half upraised! Then he dropped back, as though exhausted and baffled by the effort. "He did it!" Ronal exclaimed. "He can understand!" Ronal went through the weird pantomime again, but although the Hairy One stood once again and even accomplished two staggering steps forward, he dropped back once more without having reached the fruit. "We had better go back," Marla said. "He--it--I don't think you should've, Ronal." "No harm done. But before we give up my little experiment--" Ronal reached up, plucked the fruit and in one fluid motion tossed it to the Hairy One. And deftly, it was caught! And as quickly thrown forcefully to the ground! "You've angered him, Ronal! You've--" "But he could see I wasn't stealing it--" The Hairy One did not move. Crouched, he watched them; watched Marla. * * * * * Suddenly, Ronal was clearing a small area of the thick, carpet-like grass. Then in the soft, rich dirt which he had exposed, he began making swift, simple diagrams. They depicted the ship, surrounded by a forest. Then, pointing first to his crude drawing, then to the Hairy One, to themselves, then to the ship, Ronal waited. But the beast did not move. "Take him along? Back with us?" Marla whispered. "Why not?" Ronal answered. "If our experts could communicate with him, or at least study him, there's no telling--wait!" The Hairy One had started to stand, step forward, then stopped. "We had better go, Ronal." Marla was frightened, now. "You've made him resent us. We should leave him to this world where he belongs, and we should return to ours where we belong." "One more try. Then, if it doesn't work--"