"I saw a perfect, living statue!"
Spliid's eyes alerted. "A what?"
Spliid relaxed. "I think I know what you mean. Go on."
Rowley drew heavily on his pipe. A brooding look shadowed his lean face.
"I learned about Yanek then. I learned about Tsu and Smarin and Torl and all the rest of them. If we weren't such damned prudes, Commander, and I had flipped a sarong sooner, we'd have found everything out long ago. You've heard about the sinner who was told he could remain in Heaven only on condition he could pick Adam out of the crowd? He chose the only man he could find ... without a navel."
"Maybe they lay eggs," Spliid suggested. "Oviparous."
Rowley gave him a look of humorous scorn. "Do statues lay eggs?"
Spliid's expression cleared. "By God! Now I really understand you!"
"The natives of Hume couldn't reproduce in any manner. Naturally, I wanted to know why. And the answer came to me—protective coloration ... camouflage!"
"Apparent. Camouflage for what?"