“Myles,” she used to say, “the Supreme Builder gave antennae to us Cupians. Is it not a sacrilege to flout His gifts? If He had meant the men and women of our planet to send with their mouths, would He not have given us those funny cups on the side of the head to receive with? You are excusable, for the Supreme Builder made you differently. But we Cupians were made to send and receive with our antennae. Yet it cannot be wrong for a wife to do as her husband does; so I am determined to try to learn to talk with my mouth.”
It is fortunate that she adhered to this determination, for by so doing she changed the history of a whole planet. But that is an episode which will be related further on in this narrative. For, at the time of which I now write, Myles did not know what progress, if any, she had made with spoken speech.
One day as he trudged on, he came upon a placid herd of green cows, which were unusually well supplied with the red parasite which afflicts that breed. For some reason, the possibility of roast lobster was unusually alluring that day. Could he not spare just one cartridge, or must he save every shot for the enemy? And then it suddenly dawned on him that all these days he had not yet spent one single shot even on the enemy! What was the use of saving his ammunition for the ant men, and then never using it on them?
From that thought there developed a detailed plan of action, so obvious that he cursed himself for not having conceived of it before. And yet it is just simple thoughts that are the evidence of the highest form of invention, according to innumerable patent office decisions. Ideas so simple that any one could have thought of them, except for the fact that no one ever did think of them until the inventor came along; ideas which doubtless escaped even him for a long time.
Engrossed in his brilliant plan, Cabot forgot all about the green cows and their red parasites; so he pressed on, and soon found opportunity to put his plan into practice. For a kerkool, occupied by a single ant man, came charging down the concrete highway. As usual, Cabot hid in the bushes beside the road; but this time he took a pot-shot at the occupant of the car. The car, however, sped on and, rounding the turn ahead, disappeared from view.
Perhaps the bright idea hadn’t been so bright after all; for how was Cabot, crack shot that he was, to expect that he could hit such a swiftly moving target as an ant in a kerkool?
Once again he took up his weary march. He rounded the turn ahead. And there lay the kerkool, wrecked beside the road. The shot actually had taken effect after all!
But what good was a wrecked kerkool? Would it not merely direct the attention of the Formians to the fact that one of their enemies was at large in this vicinity? It would; that was the second part of the plan. So Cabot lay down beside the wrecked car and awaited further developments.
Developments were not long in developing, for soon another kerkool stopped to investigate. Its occupants were two ant men, armed with but a single rifle to the two of them. One dismounted, leaving the rifle in the car, and pattered over to take a look at the wreck. Just about then Myles opened fire, but made the mistake of shooting first at the ant who was on the ground. The shot disabled the black antagonist, without killing him, and thus permitted him to radiate a warning to his companion, who, of course had not heard the revolver. Cabot, in turn, could not hear the radiated warning, so he merely surmised it, but he had learned fairly well to judge such matters during his three years on Poros.
The driver of the kerkool quickly fired one shot in Cabot’s direction and threw on full speed ahead. But, with a leap, the earthman grabbed the rear end of the car and trailed out behind as it rapidly accelerated.