Late that night he finally fell asleep. The little clober crawled up on the bed and curled into the crook of his arm.
He awoke twice during the night. Each time, by the light of his flash, he could see the patient mahutes keeping their vigil. And each time he returned to his bed the clober crawled back into its sleeping place in the crook of his elbow. He found himself growing quite fond of the little beast.
The third time Tang awoke he saw, through the slit in the eye he opened, that it was daylight.
Father? For a moment Tang thought he was still dreaming. Had he heard a voice? He lay quietly, his mind still not functioning too clearly.
Father? the voice came again. But was it a voice? Now that he thought of it he was certain that there had been no actual sound. It was more like an audible thought.
A faint inkling of what was happening penetrated his consciousness. He remained quiet, deliberately keeping his mind in its drowsy, slow-functioning sleep fog. And then he caught the call in all its inflections. The sense-impression he caught was not father, exactly; rather it was a compound picture of benefactor, loved one, guardian.
And Tang was certain the mind picture had been communicated to him by the clober at his side. He had made his first telepathic contact with the planet's denizens!
For a half-hour after he arose Tang was unable to reestablish contact with the little doughball. Then he realized that he was trying too hard.
He sat down and forced himself to relax. His mind gradually calmed and made itself receptive. Food? Hungry? the clober's thoughts reached him.
Tang rose and walked to the door. The mahutes had left a small bundle of shoots at the side of the hut, as they had done every morning for Lutscher. He brought several of them in with him.