They let him live, amused by the thirst that drove him to lap up each morning's drenching dew, fascinated by his ravenous appetite for the garbage they flung at him.
The Agvars—furry, savage half-men, with something of the dog and something of the ape and little of the man about them—the Agvars let him live, Chet realized, for exactly one reason: he made them feel superior.
They'd learn now! Even though the children had stopped shrieking and gone away, disgusted at his passivity, no villager's insensitive ears could yet hear the ship.
In their boastfulness, the Agvars had invited other tribes to come and look at him and poke at him and laugh at him. His presence was known over the whole planet. He'd be found, no matter where on Hedlot the spaceship landed.
And then would come the showdown!
But the showdown came earlier than he expected, speeded because the ship landed close by. Chet told himself he should have counted on that kind of accuracy, but he'd underestimated his fellow pilots.
He had himself signalled Earthside, just before the crash, that his ship was about to land. He'd given his position—described sea and shoreline. They'd find him, if he stayed chained to the post.
But he didn't. Taken unaware by the Agvars who loosed him, Chet was docile, happy even—certain they wouldn't hurt him now, but would try to minimize their former cruelty as they turned him over to the spacemen.
When they put new chains on him, around neck and waist, he thought it was only to make sure he didn't run away before they could deliver him ostentatiously to the ship.