squatting there, except that the round, black eyes blinked once in a while.

The ghel tongue was a very rudimentary one, and Seeling, who was naturally adept at such things, had studied it at some length during the weeks in Parthena. He felt that he could get along.

"I greet you," he said, still fondling his rifle. "I am an Earthman."

"We know," one of the ghels said in a curious, whistling voice. "What do you want here?"

"I come to see the city," George said.

"This is the sacred dead city of Solon Regh, the wisest of the ancient ones. We do not welcome visitors here."

"It's not your city, dammit," George said.

"What did you say?"

"Sorry, I said, this is not the work of your race. Why do you care if I look around?"

"It is a shrine. The old ones took care of us before they went away. We loved them, and do not want their dead disturbed."

George Seeling grinned with delight. He never enjoyed himself so much as when he was where he wasn't supposed to be.

"We would be very sad if the dead were desecrated," the ghel said.

"Umm," said Seeling impudently, "but what would you do if I went ahead and desecrated them anyway?"

The head ghel looked shocked. He turned his saucer eyes on his companions, and they all squirmed on their haunches and looked shocked too.

"We would be very sad," the ghel answered.

"No hard feelings," George Seeling said, "but if the advancement of science and the dispersal of knowledge were left up to you fellows, the world would be in a hell of a fix." He aimed his rifle suggestively at the ghel's chest. "Do you know what this is that I am pointing at you?"

"It is a death stick. We have seen them before."

"Right. Now, there's something you can do for me, and I'll take it very kindly if you cooperate."

"Kindness is something we understand."

"That's fine. Somewhere about here are 

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