The linguist retracted the periscope and saw to it that the guard plates slid over the outer lens. Then he dodged through the radiation trap into the darkened drive room. He was wondering how to strap himself into the seat without taking off all his photographic gear, when Nestor, peering into the radar screen, snapped his fingers.
"Got a blip, Gordon," said the engineer with suppressed excitement. "One metallic object about the size of a foot-locker, maybe a little bigger. Boy, do those rocks show up! Must be nearly all metal."
In a moment the leader answered. "I believe I see something. Awkward angle, though, on this turret telescope. How about you, Stuart?"
"No, frankly, I—"
Gordon cut in. "What magnification are you using?"
"Let me see ... all I can get—sixty-four diameters."
"Too much; cut it down to twelve. Center your 'scope. Now look at the cross-hair grids. Find the lower part of F-7; you should see something around there."
"More likely F-6 from here," put in Nestor. "That's where my indication is."
"Oh, yes! I see them. Three natives and two ... my goodness, those heffalumps are big! Almost as big as elephants!"
Gordon answered, "Yes, and apparently considerably more useful. Well, keep a sharp watch on the group. Let me know where they go, and be sure you mark the spot on a large-scale sketch or photo. I've got to send off a report to Patrol; we're keeping them posted on every development."