McManus strode rapidly until he had caught up with the tall hunter. The red-haired boy's idolatry was plain in his wide blue eyes.
"Why the jungle?" he said. "Why are you tackling the jungle, Mr. Pritchard?"
"Just for a sample. Also as a check. The whole planet's like this. Can't land anywhere without being near the jungles that seem to fill up every valley. I don't like cover like that so close to the ship. I want to see what's in it."
"Think we'll knock over anything?"
"Not trying for it," said Pritchard shortly. He punched the younger man on the biceps. "And unkink that trigger-finger of yours, hero boy."
McManus grinned shamefacedly. "Ah, change your tapes, will you? I only need one mistake to learn."
Pritchard snorted. "On that Deneb asteroid, you promised. You seemed to understand. Then you thought you'd like one of those big clamshells for a souvenir. Remember what came out of those shells after you fired?"
The boy moved his shoulders. "Remember! I dream about them regularly every tenth night."
"I'm also thinking about a man named Munson." Pritchard's tone had become soft and musing. "That name mean anything to you?"
McManus shrugged. "There must be a million Munsons. None of 'em ever meant anything to me."