"Now what?" Cantrell drawled. "This valley taboo or something, you suppose?"
"Beats me!"
Harris stopped, pulling the little S'zetnur around and pointing to a broad streak of sola inside the mouth of one cave. He made digging motions. He pointed to himself and Cantrell, beaming and nodding.
"Rock," he labored. "Nicee rockee! Find for us?... Oh hell!" He laughed at his own absurd pidgin-English, then resorted to gestures again. He pointed to the cave, to the little dwarf, to Cantrell—
The S'zetnur shook his head violently, clapping both stunted hands over his face. An agonized bleat issued from his twisted larynx, and he threw himself flat before Cantrell, groveling and holding up one arm—then, as the captain took an idle step toward the cave, he flung his tiny malformed body before the entrance, shaking his head and beating himself in the face with his fingerless hands.
Cantrell looked at Harris, who scratched his head, grinning.
"Beats me!" he repeated helplessly. "Guess they don't want us to have the sola—!" his eyes hardened slowly. "Yeah—maybe that's it! Maybe they're—" He stiffened, glancing nervously toward the white jangle that pressed closely about them on all sides. "Maybe they're arming right now—planning an attack—"
Rob Cantrell's pleasant face changed. Eyes narrowed, mouth tight, he let his gaze flicker over the working men who were under his command, dependent on his judgment for their safety. His gaze returned to the small S'zetnur, feebly trying to block the entrance to that natural hole in the cliff's side. Or ... was it a natural hole? Cantrell's keen eyes became observant, noting worn places in the rock—
"There's something in this cave," Harris grunted. "Something this little monkey doesn't want us to see ... a secret weapon, maybe? Sa-ay!" His pleasant face hardened, like Cantrell's. "Maybe these cookies aren't as dumb and helpless as they look! Maybe they've got something that could wipe out our whole expedition!"
Cantrell nodded and strode forward, jerking the bleating dwarf aside with one sweep of his muscular arm. The cave was not deep; and, Cantrell noted with tensed nerves, there were fresh flower-petals on the floor of the small opening. Petals like those on the flower-wreath of this fantastically decorated little S'zetnur.