"Why not?"
"You know the saying, one man's meat...."
"But I'm starved for fresh meat," Saxton argued.
"We'll see if we can get him to give us some," Wallace said. "We can take it back to the ship and test it before we eat any."
They watched Al-fin as he dug in the kettle with a stick and placed the food he speared on a large leaf. He carried it to where an old man sat with his back resting against a tree trunk. The hoary veteran had a long scar on his right arm that ran from shoulder to elbow; evidently he had had a brush with one of the big cats sometime in the past. Oddly enough, he was the only native that was not thin and hungry-looking.
"He must be the chief," Saxton said. "At least he's well fed."
Wallace nodded.
When Al-fin returned Saxton said, "Meat." At the same time he rubbed his stomach in a circular motion.
Al-fin paused, thinking over what Saxton had said, then nodded several times. He made a gesture with his arm for them to follow and led them to the fat old man. "Meat," Al-fin intoned expressionlessly, and stood as though waiting for the old man's reply.
"I hope he's in a generous mood," Saxton said.