"Remember your American history? Apaches, Utes and Algonquins?"
"You mean the good old days, before spaceships and the machine age?"
"Yes. And we're back in it. Look."
Steve turned around.
"Good grief!" he said. "Indians!"
For a long time the two parties stared at each other without moving. Gradually their faces broke into smiles, the natives' of polite interest and the Horns of relief at having found the "spider people" of Peachy's description to be simply human beings like themselves.
Finally the two outside came a little closer. The older one raised his hand, palm outward.
Steve, hoping it meant friendship, did the same. He opened the door of the ship.
The men outside were about six feet tall and burned a deep copper color by the planet's bright sun. They wore breech clouts of soft leather and moccasins of the same material. Their faces were fine and intelligent, with high brows and prominent noses. The elder had a shock of stiff, gray-white hair, while the hair of the younger was black. Their bodies, even in the older man, were muscular and powerful-looking.
Steve and Myra hopped to the ground. Now that the possibility of being captured and enwebbed by giant red spiders had been discarded, Steve's spirits soared. He addressed the younger native jocularly: