"Where do the sjambaks hide out?"
"Oh," she looked vaguely around the room, "out on the plains. In the mountains."
"They must have some shelter—an air-dome."
"No. The Sultan would send out his patrol-boat and destroy them. They roam quietly. They hide among the rocks and tend their oxygen stills. Sometimes they visit the old cities."
"I wonder," said Murphy, staring into his beer, "could it be sjambaks who ride horses up to meet the space-ship?"
Soek Panjoebang knit her black eyebrows, as if preoccupied.
"That's what brought me out here," Murphy went on. "This story of a man riding a horse out in space."
"Ridiculous; we have no horses in Cirgamesç."
"All right, the steward won't swear to the horse. Suppose the man was up there on foot or riding a bicycle. But the steward recognized the man."
"Who was this man, pray?"