could make out something white! He pressed his nose against
the porthole and strained his eyes. It gave him the feeling of peering
into a Bendix, as is the custom of spacemen. His mouth went damp-dry.
This was it--whatever it was!

"Ugh!" he shouted, all agog. "Ugh! Ugh!"

Ugh dashed in, wheeling a large kaleidoscope. Expertly, they read the
directions and trained it on the mysterious formation. The Indicator
turned pale.

"By the ring-tailed dog star of Sirius!" barked Brad. "Why, it's
nothing more than an enormous gallstone, revolving in space!"

"This is Sirius!" barked Ugh.

"That's what _I_ barked!" snapped Brad. "And don't ask me _whose_ it
is! It's big enough to support life, that's the main issue! Prepare to
land!"

A strange, yet resplendent, civilization, thought Brad, looking out at
a sunlit landscape, or gallscape, of molten gold. The houses, stylish
igloos and mosques, were sturdily constructed of 3-ply cardboard and
driftwood. Before each house, mysteriously, stood a Berber pole of
solid peppermint.

Brad and Ugh bounded out of their ship. The two bounders stood there,
encased in heat-resistant pyrex pants, expecting the natives to make
things hot for them. Dumbfounded at the delay, they waited for the
attack to commence. It did not.

"I never!" said Brad, presently. "If we needed proof, we've got it!
Such a display of indolence is testimony enough that these people are
responsible for not attacking Earth! We shall have to use stratemegy!"

Swiftly, he took off his pants, revealing underneath the red flannel
costume of a 17th century French courtier, complete with powdered wig
and Falstaff. Ugh ran up a flag emblazoned with the legend: _Diplomacy
And Agriculture_, then planted beans all around the ship, while Brad
postured and danced the minuet.

The clever scheme worked beautifully. Soon an old man began circling
them on a bicycle, keeping a safe distance. Clearly, he was someone of
importance, for his long white beard was carefully braided and coiled
in a delivery basket on the handlebars. Furthermore, he wore a glowing
circlet on his forehead--so that Brad knew he was able to read their
minds--if they had any.

"How about throwing us a couple circlets?" Brad cried.

Instead, the old man, who was hard of hearing, flung them a couple
cutlets, which worked even better, and had protein besides.

Thus fortified, they were escorted to the palace.

* * * * *