"Look you, David Planter," prompted Mara, at his elbow.
From a tunnel-like hole in the jungle, a group of Skygors emerged. Among them were two human figures, clad like Planter in loose overalls and helmets.
"Your friends?" Mara questioned.
"Right," snapped Planter grimly. He drew the pistol-weapon and glared.
Disbro and Max, the latter stooping under a great bale of goods from the ship, had paused on the brink of the water. A Skygor was thundering to them, in words of English which Planter, across the water, found hard to catch. Other Skygors motioned at the pool, and one or two jumped in and struck out for nearby buildings.
"They want your friends to dive," Mara informed him. "See, the slim one shakes his head."
Planter rested the pistol on his forearm, and sighted on the Skygor who harangued Disbro. Meanwhile, other Skygors were bringing up what appeared to be a small, inflated boat, that operated with a paddle-wheel arrangement behind.
Mara saw what Planter was doing. "No!" she gasped. "Don't, David!"
"I'm going to," he told her.
"We'll be next!"