If Waltk had had Jarl's brain, he could have won a Venusian pearl, but, while Nature had given him a marvelous machine for survival, she had only given him just enough brain to keep it operating.
His work would be done when they reached the Venusian pearl-beds. One glance at the bulky figure and the Venusians would know the weakness. But it did not matter if he lost. Jarl Gare would still win a pearl.
I have no weakness, Jarl grinned to himself, except pride and the Venusians seek out physical or mental weakness—not a character weakness. He remembered the oft-told tale of the Earthman whom the Venusians had frightened to death, but that was because he showed that fear physically.
Three years in The Hole and you either go raving mad or learn to mask every emotion.
Abruptly, Waltk was back. "There were two," he said, "Two no more."
"Did they have fog-piercers?" Jarl Gare asked.
"Yes," Waltk grunted. "I remembered what you said." He handed over a pair of glasses and the special light. "You would not need these. I see enough for both of us."
There was a muted splash from the river.
Waltk's great hands seized Jarl Gare about the waist and lifted him. "Three splashes—then heave," Jarl Gare said.
The next splash was louder, the second louder and longer and, when the third crashed into the night, Jarl Gare was flung as if from a catapult over the fence.