against grain, through the
ages, until it had become a fine red powder that hung in the hot still
air after they had passed.

Most of Waterfield's Planet, they had discovered on their inspection
flight the day before, had been a desert for more centuries than they
could accurately estimate. Its oases, however, were large and plentiful
and, as observed from the air, followed a clear-cut, regular pattern.
The obvious conclusion was that they were fed by underground rivers.

* * * * *

The crewmen deposited their burden in the chair and stood waiting.

"Nice work, men," Bruckner muttered in an undertone. "Now keep up the
act. Bow from the waist and retire discreetly to the background."

Majesky said something under his breath as they complied.

The greeting ceremony got off to a good start after that, Sweets had to
admit. Whatever else might be said of Bruckner, he knew his job as a
psychologist.

Bruckner rose to his feet, raised his right hand, palm forward, and
intoned gravely, "Earthmen greet you." He spoke in the language of the
natives.

The tribal chieftain raised his hand negligently in reply, but neither
rose nor spoke.

With a great display of magnanimity, Bruckner sent over a bolt of bright
red cloth.

The chieftain accepted the gift and sent back a large wooden box carried
by two of his men. They lowered the box at Bruckner's feet and one of
them opened a door in its side.

The large animal--or bird; the Earthmen couldn't be certain which--that
stepped out stood about seven feet tall, with a body shaped like a
bowling pin. It walked on webbed feet that angled outward, had short
flippers, set low on a body covered with coarse hair that might have
been feathers, and was armed with long, vicious claws. There was
something so ludicrous about its appearance that Sweets had difficulty
stifling the chuckle that rose in his throat.

The animal, however, took itself very seriously. When it saw its
audience--the spaceship's crew--watching, it took two spraddling steps
forward, pulled the bulk of its pot-bellied stomach up into its chest
and paused dramatically.

It gave three very loud, hoarse burps, somewhere between the squawk of a
duck and the braying of an ass. It was a hilariously funny caricature of
a pompous orator.

Someone snickered. Immediately Sweets and the other crew members joined
in the laughter. It was the kind of belly-laughing that could not be
restraine