"Tork, yes," the taller figure said. "And this with me here is Nona. We did not want to kill you—"
"Oh, you didn't?" Nixon's temper always sprang readily. He could feel his hands suddenly tingle. It was absurd that this tiny creature should speak so calmly of killing him. Why if he had his hands loose, he could seize the damned little thing, squeeze it until it screamed....
Unconsciously Nixon was straining at the metal ropes, with the muscles under his bronzed skin taut as he held his breath, pulling and straining. The metal posts bent inward a little with the pull; but the ropes held.... It was a moment of horrible tenseness for his captors. He could see it as he slowly strained, exerting all his strength until the sweat poured out on his forehead and he was panting. A tense horrible moment, while Tork and Nona stood with their tiny bluish faces turned upward, with glowing little eyes staring. Then Tork's face wrinkled into a grotesque smile as he saw Nixon's body relax. The crucial test had come and passed. They could hold this giant.
Tork said quietly, "There is a blood-tube in your throat. I could climb up there and plunge what you call a sword into it."
Nixon had heard of the jugular vein, of course. A sword, as Tork would wield it, would be only a needle. But, even so, it could have been stabbed into his jugular while he was unconscious and he might have bled to death. Or it could be stabbed into his eyes, blinding him....
"All right," Nixon said. "It's hard to realize—I reckon I'm beginning to understand now—"
"That we have an intelligence like your own," Tork finished. "What are you called? You have a name? Is it not so that all Earth people are named?"
"Nixon," he said. "Allen Nixon. Look here—what the devil is all this? Who are you? You've got me here in some sort of thing—"
"Our Spaceship," Tork said. "We came to Earth to get you."
"Get me? Came to Earth?"