"Lemme up. My name's Potter. Sorry 'bout that. I figured it was a Flap-jack boat; looks just like 'em. I took a shot when I saw something move. Didn't know it was a Terrestrial. Who are you? What you doin' here? We're pretty close to the edge of the oases. That's Flap-jack country over there." He waved a hand toward the north, where the desert lay.
"I'm glad you're a poor shot. That missile was too close for comfort."
"Missile, eh? Must be Flap-jack artillery. We got nothing like that."
"I heard there was a full-fledged war brewing," said Retief. "I didn't expect—"
"Good!" Potter said. "We figured a few of you boys from Ivory would be joining up when you heard. You are from Ivory?"
"Yes. I'm—"
"Hey, you must be Lemuel's cousin. Good night! I pretty near made a bad mistake. Lemuel's a tough man to explain something to."
"I'm—"
"Keep your head down. These damn Flap-jacks have got some wicked hand weapons. Come on...." He moved off silently on all fours. Retief followed. They crossed two hundred yards of rough country before Potter got to his feet, took out a soggy bandana and mopped his face.
"You move good for a city man. I thought you folks on Ivory just sat under those domes and read dials. But I guess bein' Lemuel's cousin you was raised different."