That he spoke English was both a surprise and a relief to Lafayette Smith. Suddenly he seemed less terrifying. "I am a geologist," he explained. "My name is Smith—Lafayette Smith—and my companion is Mr. Patrick. I am here to conduct some field research work—purely a scientific expedition."
The stranger pointed to the machine gun. "Is that part of the regular field equipment of a geologist?" he asked.
"No," Smith replied, "and I'm sure I don't know why Mr. Patrick insisted on bringing it along."
"I wasn't takin' no chances in a country full of strange smokes," said the "Gunner." "Say, a broad I meets on the boats tells me some of these smokes eats people."
"It would come in handy, perhaps, for hunting," suggested the stranger. "A herd of antelope would make an excellent target for a weapon of that sort."
"Geeze!" exclaimed the "Gunner," "wot do you think I am, Mister, a butcher? I packs this for insurance only. It sure wasn't worth the premium this time though," he added disgustedly; "jammed on me right when I needed it the most. But say, you were there all right. I gotta hand it to you. You're regular, Mister, and if I can ever return the favor—" He made an expansive gesture that completed the sentence and promised all that the most exacting might demand of a reciprocatory nature.
The giant nodded. "Don't use it for hunting," he said, and then, turning to Smith, "Where are you going to conduct your research?"
Suddenly a comprehending light shone in the eyes of the "Gunner," and a pained expression settled definitely upon his face. "Geeze!" he exclaimed disgusted to Smith. "I might of known it was too good to be true."
"What?" asked Lafayette.
"What I said about there not bein' no cops here."