"I can go with you to Hardpan City," Dun Horgan said slowly. "That's where I trade off my furs and gold dust. We can thump a ride on one of the waggons going to New Yok."
"What are we waiting for then?" demanded Ayna. "Bring extra slugs for your six guns." She looked at Orth. "Don't you have a gun?"
Orth tugged out his compact machine pistol. Apparently the clumsy spring-powered weapons with six barrels were what the girl called six guns, for Horgan belted a second weapon around his waist. The girl examined his hand gun with curious eyes and fingers.
"Unusual design," she commented. "Not authentic for your period costume."
"Come along," said Horgan, cutting across Orth's protesting words. "About time for the afternoon waggon train."
"Here they come!" cried Horgan as they quitted the path for the rutted highway.
He seized a long length of pole and started beating at the road with it. Dust clouded up about them. And further down the road a growing cloud of dust neared. These must be the waggons Horgan was going to hail, Orth decided.
"Why is he pounding the ground, Ayna?" demanded Orth.
The woman laughed. "He is thumping for a ride," she explained. "It is a peculiar custom of this age. In this way he asks assistance."