think.”

He went to the quonset door and looked out and up, listening. “Jets. The Washington brass on its way to cross-examine us.”

“The other foot?” Vann said. “Don’t be cryptic, man. Whose foot?”

“Theirs,” Ellis said. “Don’t you see? One of these days we’ll be going out there to make our own place in the galaxy. With our size and disposition, how do you think we’ll seem to those gentle little people?”

Vann whistled in belated understanding.

“Rough,” he said.

THE END

 TRANSCRIBER’S NOTE

TRANSCRIBER’S NOTE

The cover has been created by the transcriber and placed in the public domain.

Punctuation and hyphenation have been normalized.

Minor typographical errors have been corrected.

This e-text was produced from Analog March 1962. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.

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