The Martian stopped suddenly; then leaned forward, peering through the dark.
"An Earthman," he rasped. "What are you doing around my ship? Clear out of here!" He started to stride forward again, purposefully.
"Don't come any closer!" Jordan snapped. "I've got a pistol trained right on you."
The Martian looked down and saw it. He said tersely:
"How do you know my name? What do you want?"
Jordan didn't answer the first question, but smiled at the confirmation. "I want three things, Tarnuff. First I want you to toss your pistol over here on the ground. Next I want you to enter this ship ahead of me. Finally I want you to sign a paper. After which I may or may not let you go, depending on how you comply."
Tarnuff didn't move. He stood there staring.
"Quick—your pistol!" Jordan snapped. "Or you get a taste of mine!"
"Oh, no." Tarnuff was looking above Jordan's head. He went on quickly: "All right, Oruk, grab him!"
Jordan laughed aloud. "That old trick! I don't fall—"