"There he goes," said Kunklin. "What is that thing he is driving?"
"Extraordinary," Prule agreed. "You'd think that even with their primitive technology these poor souls would have reasonably comfortable conveyances."
"And faster," Kunklin said. "The Faktors will be back."
"Where are they now?"
"North. They reason, obviously, that he has slipped through on the ground. They are taking no chance on the bong having missed, which is characteristically thorough. They are fanning out from the North, beginning to ring the desert."
"There is no hurry then. If the Faktors think he is a Galactic they will be very discreet, very cautious."
Kunklin turned from the eyepiece, his handsome face lighted with interest.
"Listen, now there's a thing we'll have to discuss. Could this man be a Galactic?"
"Fully? No, of course not," Prule sniffed. "A Galactic run from a Faktor? Humph!"