"Your chief come our camp. Talk
with Foscar--two--four sleeps ago."
"How talk with Foscar? With hunter talk?"
For the first time Ennar did not appear altogether certain. He scowled
and then snapped, "He talk--Foscar, us. We hear right words--not woods
creeper talk. He speak to us good."
Ross was puzzled. How could the alien out of time speak the proper
language of a primitive tribe some thousands of years removed from his
own era? Were the ship people also familiar with time travel? Did they
have their own stations of transfer? Yet their fury with the Reds had
been hot. This was a complete mystery.
"This chief--he look like me?"
Again Ennar appeared at a loss. "He wear covering like you."
"But was he like me?" persisted Ross. He didn't know what he was trying
to learn, only that it seemed important at that moment to press home to
at least one of the tribesmen that he _was_ different from the man who
had put a price on his head and to whom he was to be sold.
"Not like!" Tulka spoke over his shoulder.
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