The shape of flame seemed to pulse with a curious, inward merriment. Langford could feel the merriment beating into his brain, waves upon waves of it.
"I didn't attack them. I can no more divide by fission than you can. But when I saw them crouching by the river, their faces merciless, waiting to seize you, I got inside their minds and drove them into the river.
"Like chattering monkeys they fled from the terrifying images I planted in their minds. They were prepared to believe I was not one, but many, a swarming multitude. They floundered and swam until their strength gave out. When they could no longer swim they dragged themselves from the river, and went floundering through the jungle, fleeing from shapes that had no real existence.
"Good Lord!" Langford muttered.
"Their weapons are now at the bottom of the river. That stern and silly little man, who is nothing more than a jumble of bones, fell face down in the river; before I could reach his side you were lifting him up. You have won his undying gratitude. He will grumble and fume, but when he sees my ship disappearing into deep space you will wear ribbons, my friend. You will become—yes, a senior commander!"
"A senior—"
"Perhaps you'd like to see me as I really am, Langford, my friend! You'll promise not to laugh? I may look a little ridiculous to you."
Langford's eyes were suddenly moist. "You couldn't possibly look ridiculous to me," he said.
"Well ... I wouldn't like to show myself to just anybody. Certainly not to Skin-and-Bones! But it's terribly important that you know how completely I trust you. How else can I prove my gratitude?"