"We need fifty more legions of men by morning," he said apologetically.
"Why not?" a metallic voice replied. It continued monotonously, with scant intonation. "I'll start them at once and have them ready by daylight." There was a quick gesture of the leathery thing in the jar. Little groups of long, red thorns scattered over it.
The general went on.
"These people are good fighters. They may conquer us. We haven't a thousand soldiers left."
The metallic voice that replied conveyed no emotion, but the gesture of the cactus-like thing in the jar was eloquent of deprecation.
"To our science they are but a puff of wind," the droning voice said. "I can destroy them all by pressing a button. Do you think I have studied the earth and its beast-like men for ages in vain? But, I want sport. I've been bored for too many centuries. So, to entertain me you shall have your five hundred companies of soldiers tomorrow morning. Now go. I must be alone."
The general saluted with an arm straight forward and upward, turned about, and walked out of the field of view, muttering something dubiously under his breath. For a long time, all was silent. Then the metallic voice spoke:
"Earth men, I perceive you up on the roof about the ventilator." The leathery thing in the jar stirred and the machinery on the table clicked.
The group on the roof started in alarm, but the wizened little Haven regained his composure first.
"Who and what are you?" he exclaimed.