It was still early in the summer--too early to expect
to find ripe fruit. But Dalgard rummaged in his voyager's bag and
brought out a half-dozen crystal beads. He laid these out on a
flat-topped stone by the stream, seating himself cross-legged beside
it.
To the onlooker it would appear that the traveler was meditating. A
wide-winged living splotch of color fanned by overhead; there was a
distant yap of sound. Dalgard neither looked nor listened. But perhaps
a minute later what he awaited arrived. A hopper, its red-brown fur
sleek and gleaming in the sun, its eternal curiosity drawing it,
peered cautiously from the bushes. Dalgard made mind touch. The
hoppers did not really think--at least not on the levels where
communication was possible for the colonists--but sensations of
friendship and good will could be broadcast, primitive ideas
exchanged.
The small animal, its humanlike front pawhands dangling over its
creamy vest, came out fully into the open, black eyes flicking from
the motionless Dalgard to the bright beads on the rock. But when one
of those paws shot out to snatch the treasure, the traveler's hand was
already cupped protectingly over the hoard.
Pages:
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25