"Lanse, are you there, son? Listen, come up to the bridge right away, will you?"
Swift apprehension tightened Biggs' features.
"What's the matter? The Themisites getting violent? They're not attacking the ship?"
Hanson groaned like the guest artist at a seance.
"Just the opposite! Another of them phony 'nights' has passed outside since you two've been fiddlin' around up there. Now it's daylight again ... and there's a mob of Themisites gathered around outside ... wavin' banners and peltin' the Saturn with flowers! The Thagwar has just sent a messenger biddin' us friendly welcome to Themis!"
"Great growling guttersnipes!" I spluttered, "What's this all about? One minute they want to kill and boo ... the next they want to bill and coo! Why don't they make up their minds?"
"Probably," decided the skipper, "because they ain't got none. Lanse—?"
"We can't learn anything," said Biggs quietly, "in here. Let's go outside."
So for the third time in as many Themisian 'days', out we pranced, to be greeted by such hooraw and ballyhoo as you never saw. Those same centaurs who, a few short Earthly hours ago had been aiming lethal presents at our kissers were now aiming kisses at our presence! Their leader pranced forward gracefully and made a low bow before Cap Hanson.