"Suppose I don't. Suppose I warn him?"
"You won't." Peterson carelessly sighted his curious weapon on a rock ledge in the passageway. The thing bucked to a screaming hiss that belched from its snout. No more than that, but the rock spurted incandescence and puffed out of existence. "No, you won't shoot your mouth off, Bonwitt."
"What's the idea?" growled the engineer. "What're you up to?"
"All in good time, my boy. Here we are; remember what I said."
They entered a small, softly lighted room. Two wizened, breech-clouted men bowed to the super and he jabbered unintelligible words. An inner door opened and the two Earthmen went through.
"Bonji, Don Peel. Bonji, Gosak," the super mouthed, spreading his pudgy hands and salaaming before a turbaned brown man squatted in the center of a waist-high circular table that surrounded him.
"Bonji," this one replied gravely. "This new helper?"
"Yes, Don, this is Bonwitt. Crane's with Gates."
The little brown man looked out keenly from under overhanging brows, eyes gleaming like a cobra's. "You sure we can trust?"
Peterson nodded with assurance.