"Well, there are only a hundred of you, and I'm not sharing you with anybody," said Rankin.
"It is not right," the robot repeated.
"Don't talk to me about what's right," said Rankin. "You're built to follow orders, nothing else. I know a thing or two about how you robots work. You've got one law, to follow orders, and until that neighbor of mine sees you to give you orders, you work for me. Now get into those woods and hide till he goes away."
"We will go to greet those who visit us today," said the robot.
"Alright, alright, scram," said Rankin.
The robots in the fields and the one whom Rankin had been talking to formed a column and marched off into the trackless forests behind his plantation.
A battered old ground-car drove up a few minutes later. A tall, broad-shouldered man with a deep tan got out and walked up the path to Rankin's verandah.
"Hi, Barrows," said Rankin.
"Hello," said Barrows. "See your crop's coming along pretty well. Can't figure how you do it. You've got acres and acres to tend, far's I can see, and I'm having a hell of a time with one little piece of ground. I swear you must know something about this planet that I don't know."
"Just scientific farming," said Rankin carelessly. "Look, you come over here for something, or just to gab? I got a lot of work to do."