from the commandant.
What his attitude toward the aliens might be, Jrann-Pttt didn't know. He
might consider them as specimens, as enemies or as potential allies.
What his attitude toward Jrann-Pttt and his companion would be, however,
the saurian knew only too well. Had they reported the lieutenant's
demise immediately, it was possible the commandant might have been
brought to believe it was an accident. Now he would unquestionably think
Jrann-Pttt had killed Merglyt-Ruuu on purpose--which was not true; how
was Jrann-Pttt to know that the mud into which he'd knocked the
lieutenant was quicksand?

"Anything against putting up shelters?" Captain Greenfield growled from
his perch.

"Monster!" the mosquito-bat shrieked at the cat. "Monster! Monster!"

* * * * *

There was a painfully embarrassed silence.

"The creature is not intelligent," Jrann-Pttt explained, smiling. "It
merely has vocal apparatus that can reproduce a frequently heard word,
like--you have a bird, I believe, a--" he searched their minds for the
word--"a parrot."

"Monster!" the mosquito-bat continued. "Monster! Monster!"

"Shut up or I'll wring your neck!" the captain snarled. The mosquito-bat
obeyed sullenly, apparently recognizing the threat in his tone.

But the concept of "monster" hung heavily in the air between the
terrestrials and the lizard-man. _They should not feel so bad about it_,
he thought, _for they are the monsters themselves. But that would never
occur to them and I can hardly reassure them by saying...._

"Don't worry," Professor Bernardi said smoothly. "To him, it's we who
are the monsters."

A sudden gust of wind nearly whipped the tablecloth out of Jrann-Pttt's
hands. He fought with it for a moment, glad of something tangible to
contend with. "About the shelters," he said. "They might not stand up
against a storm."

"So this is monsoon country," Bernardi observed thoughtfully. "Do you
know when the storms usually come, Jrann-Pttt?" The other shook his
head. "Peculiar. There usually is a season for that sort of thing."

"I ... come from another part of the planet."

"Storms here are bad, eh?" the captain commented, swinging himself down
easily. "Frankly, that worries me. Ship's resting on mud as far as I can
see, and if there's one thing I do know something about, it's mud. If it
got any wetter, the ship might sink."

"Maybe we should leave," Mrs. Bernardi suggested. "Go to another part