humanoid. Unless you counted such little things as the fact
that his hair was a robin ' s-egg blue to match his trunks, as were
his eyes and his boots. Blood red and light blue.
Casey, owner of the tavern, was the first one to see them
coming across the plain, from the direction of the mountain range to the east.
He'd stepped out of the back door of his tavern for a breath of fresh, if hot,
air. They were about a hundred yards away at that time, and already he could
see the utter alienness of the figure on the lead burro. Just alienness at that
distance, the horror came only at closer range. Casey's jaw dropped and stayed
down until the strange trio was about fifty yards away, then he started slowly
toward them. There are people who run at the sight of the unknown, others who
advance to meet it. Casey advanced, however slowly, to meet it.
Still in the wide open, twenty yards from the back of the
little tavern, he met them. Dade Grant stopped and dropped the rope by which he
was leading the burro. The burro stood still and dropped its head. The
stick-man stood up simply by planting his feet solidly and standing, astride
the burro. He stepped one leg across it and stood a moment, leaning his weight
against his hands on the burro ' s back, and then sat down in the
sand. "High-gravity planet," he said. "Can't stand long."
"Kin I get water for my burro?" the prospector
asked Casey. " Must be purty thirsty by now. Hadda leave water
bags, some other things, so it could carry—" He jerked a thumb toward the
red-and-blue horror.
Casey was just realizing that it was a horror. At a distance
the color combination seemed a bit outre, but close— The skin was rough
and seemed to have veins on the outside and looked moist (although it wasn't)
and damn if it didn't look just like he had his skin peeled off and put
back upside down. Or just peeled off, period. Casey had never seen anything
like it and hoped he wouldn't ever see anything like it again.
Casey felt something behind him and looked over his shoulder.
Others had seen now and were coming, but the nearest of them, a pair of boys,
were ten yards behind him. "Muchachos," he called out. "Agua por el burro. Un pazal. Pronto?
He looked back and said, 'What-? Who—?"
" Name ' s Dade Grant, " said the prospector, putting out a hand, which Casey took absently. When he let
go of it it jerked back over the desert rat's shoulder, thumb indicating the
thing that sat on the sand. " His name ' s Garth, he
tells me. He ' s an extra something or other, and he ' s some
kind of minister. "
Casey nodded at the stick-man and was glad to get a nod in
return instead of an extended hand. " I ' mManuel
Casey, " he said. 'What does he mean, an extra something?"
The stick-man ' s voice was unexpectedly deep and
vibrant. " Iam an extraterrestrial. And a minister plenipotentiary. "
Surprisingly, Casey was a moderately well-educated man and
knew both of those phrases; he was probably the only person in Cherrybell who
would have known the second one. Less surprisingly, considering the speaker ' s
appearance, he believed both of them. ' What can I do for you, sir? " he asked. " But first, why not come in out of the sun? "
" No, thank you. It ' s a bit cooler
here than they told me it would be, but I ' m quite comfortable. This
is equivalent to a cool spring evening on my planet. And as to what you can do
for me, you can notify your authorities of my presence. I believe they will be
interested."
Well, Casey thought, by blind luck he's hit the best man for
his purpose within at least twenty miles. Manuel Casey was half-Irish, half-Mexican.
He had a half-brother who was half-Irish and half assorted-American, and the
half-brother was a bird colonel at Davis-Monthan Air Force Base in Tucson. He
said, " Just a minute, Mr. Garth, I ' ll telephone.
You, Mr. Grant, would you want to come inside? "
" Naw, I don ' t mind sun. Out in it
all day every day. An ' Garth here, he ast me if I'd stick with him
till he
that his hair was a robin ' s-egg blue to match his trunks, as were
his eyes and his boots. Blood red and light blue.
Casey, owner of the tavern, was the first one to see them
coming across the plain, from the direction of the mountain range to the east.
He'd stepped out of the back door of his tavern for a breath of fresh, if hot,
air. They were about a hundred yards away at that time, and already he could
see the utter alienness of the figure on the lead burro. Just alienness at that
distance, the horror came only at closer range. Casey's jaw dropped and stayed
down until the strange trio was about fifty yards away, then he started slowly
toward them. There are people who run at the sight of the unknown, others who
advance to meet it. Casey advanced, however slowly, to meet it.
Still in the wide open, twenty yards from the back of the
little tavern, he met them. Dade Grant stopped and dropped the rope by which he
was leading the burro. The burro stood still and dropped its head. The
stick-man stood up simply by planting his feet solidly and standing, astride
the burro. He stepped one leg across it and stood a moment, leaning his weight
against his hands on the burro ' s back, and then sat down in the
sand. "High-gravity planet," he said. "Can't stand long."
"Kin I get water for my burro?" the prospector
asked Casey. " Must be purty thirsty by now. Hadda leave water
bags, some other things, so it could carry—" He jerked a thumb toward the
red-and-blue horror.
Casey was just realizing that it was a horror. At a distance
the color combination seemed a bit outre, but close— The skin was rough
and seemed to have veins on the outside and looked moist (although it wasn't)
and damn if it didn't look just like he had his skin peeled off and put
back upside down. Or just peeled off, period. Casey had never seen anything
like it and hoped he wouldn't ever see anything like it again.
Casey felt something behind him and looked over his shoulder.
Others had seen now and were coming, but the nearest of them, a pair of boys,
were ten yards behind him. "Muchachos," he called out. "Agua por el burro. Un pazal. Pronto?
He looked back and said, 'What-? Who—?"
" Name ' s Dade Grant, " said the prospector, putting out a hand, which Casey took absently. When he let
go of it it jerked back over the desert rat's shoulder, thumb indicating the
thing that sat on the sand. " His name ' s Garth, he
tells me. He ' s an extra something or other, and he ' s some
kind of minister. "
Casey nodded at the stick-man and was glad to get a nod in
return instead of an extended hand. " I ' mManuel
Casey, " he said. 'What does he mean, an extra something?"
The stick-man ' s voice was unexpectedly deep and
vibrant. " Iam an extraterrestrial. And a minister plenipotentiary. "
Surprisingly, Casey was a moderately well-educated man and
knew both of those phrases; he was probably the only person in Cherrybell who
would have known the second one. Less surprisingly, considering the speaker ' s
appearance, he believed both of them. ' What can I do for you, sir? " he asked. " But first, why not come in out of the sun? "
" No, thank you. It ' s a bit cooler
here than they told me it would be, but I ' m quite comfortable. This
is equivalent to a cool spring evening on my planet. And as to what you can do
for me, you can notify your authorities of my presence. I believe they will be
interested."
Well, Casey thought, by blind luck he's hit the best man for
his purpose within at least twenty miles. Manuel Casey was half-Irish, half-Mexican.
He had a half-brother who was half-Irish and half assorted-American, and the
half-brother was a bird colonel at Davis-Monthan Air Force Base in Tucson. He
said, " Just a minute, Mr. Garth, I ' ll telephone.
You, Mr. Grant, would you want to come inside? "
" Naw, I don ' t mind sun. Out in it
all day every day. An ' Garth here, he ast me if I'd stick with him
till he
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