"Hunting what?"
"Anything." He smiled up at her. "Anything big and tough. What are you doing here?"
He could just make out the corner of her mouth lifting in disdain. "What do you mean by 'anything big and tough?'"
Pritchard liked to have his own questions answered, too. "Who are you, anyway?" he rapped out sternly. "How come you speak Terran English? Where's the rest of your party?"
The girl only frowned down at him. "By what right do you come tramping in here killing all my people?"
"All your what?" Pritchard blinked.
"People, people, people. There are beings on this world who live and breathe and think just like you. But you seem to think it's all right to come in and kill them. For sport."
Gazing up into those blazing emerald eyes and that delicious figure, Pritchard felt an unaccustomed tingling through his nerves. Any woman, however crippled, deformed or aged, could provoke some excitement after the prison of deep space. But this beauty—
He glanced sideways at McManus who had moved up alongside him. The redhead had a feral grin on his freckled mug.
"Relax," muttered Pritchard from the corner of his mouth. "This one's for me."