until it was across the planet from us, we might have time to get out, and take another jump toward home. One more and we'd be far enough in so our own cruisers could take care of the bloodhound."

Wallace shook his head. "Its speed is too great. Our best chance is that it doesn't hold to a straight path around the planet. The aliens—not knowing the size of any body we might land on—wouldn't set it for a dead-line trajectory. I hope."

There was nothing for them to do until the s-tracer had followed the movements of their stalker long enough to make an adequate graph. They decided to go outside while they waited.

Wallace and Saxton took only a few steps—and stopped in amazement. They had a visitor!

The native rose from his kneeling position on the ground and stood erect. Wallace studied the face of the naked, stick-thin savage, trying to penetrate beneath the dirt and grime, beneath the mask of impassive features, to find the quality that held him in questioning immobility. For a moment he succeeded.

It was not high intelligence that he found, but rather an innate conviction of power. A conviction and self-assurance so deep that it needed no demonstration for expression.

Wallace glanced at Saxton where he leaned against the spaceship's ramp, the whites of his eyes contrasting sharply with the black of his clean negroid skin. It was clear that he too sensed the odd quality in the other. And that he was equally unable to decide whether the savage that so incuriously regarded first one then the other of them was to be feared, or accepted as amicable. But both already realized that this was no ordinary meeting between humans and an outworld native. They were on the verge of an unusual experience.

The savage had been kneeling with his forehead touching the ground when they stepped out of the ship. However, now that he stood before them, there was nothing abject in his demeanor. For a long minute he did not speak or make any motion other than to regard them. Casually then he raised his right hand and touched his chest. "Al-fin," he said.

The meaning of the gesture was apparent: Wallace readily understood that the savage was giving his name. He touched his own chest. "Ivan," he murmured.

The native turned his gaze to Saxton.

"Gus," Saxton said, shifting his feet uncomfortably.

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