"What's the matter?" Ned's voice demanded frantically. "Why was Jane screaming? What's wrong? Answer me, for God's sake!"
Having managed to haul Jane to a sitting position, Judy wiped the hair off her own grimy forehead, and dashed back to stoop over the radio. "Lunch was burning!" she panted. "Everything is—"
"Ju-dee, he's throwing stones!"
Sure enough, the native had decided that hurling rocks at them would be interesting and appropriate. With their huge—in his terms—terrestrial forms, bulking even larger in the heat suits, the girls made much more satisfactory targets than the spindling members of his own species, though he did not classify other life-forms according to species. There were others and then there was himself.
"Everything is under control," Judy finished. "Nothing's the matter. Ouch! Over to you." She rubbed her plump bottom and glared at the native.
"Arrr," said the native happily. He had thrown stones before, but never had he succeeded in hitting anyone. "Arrrrrr!" Pride of achievement filled his scrawny bosom.
Dan's voice took over. "You're keeping something from us, Judy!"
"It's nothing, nothing!" Judy babbled. "Just spilled hot fat on my arm—that's all. Ouch! Quit it, or I'll wring your skinny neck! Over to you."
"Arrr!" howled the native, catching Judy in the shin. "Arrr-aff!"
Two more natives came up—separately, of course—to watch. It was rarely that Furbish had any such entertainment to offer. They regarded the scene with interest. But somehow spectator sport, while excellent in itself, does not give the full joy of actual participation....