Gallifa spoke to them quietly, trying a few standard low-order communication and classification tricks. The visitors—somehow he couldn't think of them as base animals—made no response. They didn't quite seem to fit any classification niche. The creatures faintly puzzled Gallifa. The best he could do was: Low order intelligence and probably harmless. Cultural development, nil.
As if to prove his rationalizations, the creatures suddenly seemed to ignore the humans. They walked unconcernedly past the truck and attacked the vegetation on the edge of the clearing. Every so often one would overturn a small rock and grub for the exposed insects.
Gallifa observed their broad, dull teeth. They weren't, he decided, omnivorous.
Samuels interrupted his train of thought. "Do you think they will give us any trouble?" he asked.
"No," Gallifa affirmed slowly. "Not materially, anyway. But it's going to be interesting, and a little difficult, to study this species. They don't seem to be ecologically feasible. Look at them. They are small and weak. They don't have claws, not even sheathed—and they are definitely too low in the evolutionary scale to know anything of weapons. Their feet obviously aren't constructed for climbing, and their limbs are too short and aren't planned right for running."
He removed his hat and scratched his head. "In short," he finished, "they are an unprotected species, obviously unable to protect themselves."
"That's odd enough," Samuels agreed. "But maybe they don't need protection. Maybe they don't have any natural enemies."
"On a raw planet?" Gallifa retorted. "That's not very likely."
"Perhaps I can catch a few for the lab," Samuels suggested. "I'll work up a behavior pattern analysis."
"That shouldn't be too hard," Gallifa said. "They certainly aren't afraid of us. You do that," he added suddenly. "I'm going to pick up Mac and be on my way. Otherwise, we'll never get out of here."