There was a garment in there, no more than a wraparound– Terl was wearing another one now and was otherwise naked. There was a bent kerbango saucepan with a hole in it and no kerbango. And a Psychlo dictionary! What on earth would the very educated Terl-in Psychlo at least– be doing with a Psychlo dictionary?

Jonnie backed up out of the reach of the chain. What was the word Terl had just used? Ah, there it was: “Repenting: the action of being sorrowful or self-reproachful for what one has done or failed to do; a word adopted from the Hockner language and said to be actually experienced by some alien races.”

“Repenting?” said Jonnie. “You?” It was his turn to laugh.

“Didn't I put you in a cage? Don't you realize that it could give one feelings

of---?"

Jonnie looked that word up: “Guilt: the painful feeling of self-reproach resulting from a conviction one had done something wrong or immoral; adopted from the Chinko language and useful to political officers in degrading individuals of subject races; said by Professor Halz to factually exist as an emotion in some aliens.” He popped the book shut.

“You must have some, too, animal. After all, I was like a father to you and you labored day and night to shatter my future. In fact, I clearly suspect that you just used me so you could betray me-'

“Like the exploding truck,” said Jonnie.

“What exploding truck?”

“The delivery flatbed,” said Jonnie patiently.

“Oh, I thought you meant that blade scraper you got yourself trapped in, the one that blew up out there on the plateau. You animals are always hard on machinery!” He sighed.

“So here I am, the--– subject of your revenge.”

Jonnie didn't bother to look up the word. He knew it would be another one no Psychlo would ever use. “I didn't order you in this cage or into that collar, you did. By rights I should ask them to put you back in the dormitory level. Capering around here, half-naked-'

“I don't think you will,” said Terl evilly. “Why did you come down here today?”

It was better not to talk too much to Terl, but if he didn't he couldn't get him to leak data. “I came down to ask the Chamco brothers about the delay on the transshipment rig.”

“I rather thought you must have,” said Terl. He seemed indifferent. He heaved out a long sigh into his breathe-mask and stood up.

The crowd outside drew back with a frightened mutter. The monster was almost four feet taller than Jonnie. Claws, fangs visible through its mask...

“Animal,” said Terl, “in spite of past difference, I think I should tell you one thing. You will be coming to me for help soon. And as I am and ," two more words Jonnie wouldn't bother to look up, “I probably will be stupid enough to help you. So just remember, animal. When it gets too difficult, come to see Terl. After all, weren't we always shaftmates?"

Jonnie let out a bark of laughter. This was simply too much! He threw the dictionary over on the tarpaulin, and leaning heavily on his knobkerrie, back to Terl, he walked out of the cage.

The moment he had closed and locked the door, Terl let out a dreadful roar and began prancing about beating his chest.

Jonnie threw the keys to the guard and went over and turned the electricity back on. He was still laughing to himself as he hobbled toward Windsplitter. The crowd was way back, making sounds of relief.

Not everyone was way back. Brown Limper Staffor was between Jonnie and the horse. Jonnie recognized him and was about to greet him. Then Jonnie stopped. He had never before seen such naked, malevolent hatred on anyone's face.

“I see there are two cripples now!” said Brown Limper Staffor. He abruptly turned his back on Jonnie and limped off, his clubfoot dragging.

There were people there who would be telling their great-grandchildren that they personally had been present when the Jonnie had gone into that cage, and who would gain no small importance and notoriety because of it.

Jonnie was on Windsplitter again, walking the horse toward the small isolated dome erected to house the

Chamco brothers.

“That was not well done,” said Robert the Fox, close beside Jonnie. “Don't scare these people like that.” He himself had been worried stiff.

“I didn't come over to see the people,” said Jonnie. “I came over to see the Chamcos and I’m on my way right now.”

“You have to think of your public presence,” said Robert the Fox, gently. “That frightened them.” This might be Jonnie's first day out and Robert might want it to be a good day for him, but that visit to Terl had been hair-raising. “You're a symbol now,” he continued.

Jonnie turned toward him. He was very fond of Sir Robert. But he couldn't conceive of himself as a symbol. "I’m just Jonnie Goodboy Tyler." He suddenly laughed in a kindly way, “That is to say, MacTyler!”

Any concern Sir Robert had felt melted. What could you do with this laddie? He was glad the day seemed a happy one again to Jonnie.

The crowd was much more subdued but it was following. Colonel Ivan had gotten over his fright and had his lance-carrying Cossacks in formation. Bittie MacLeod had successfully swallowed his heart and was leading in the direction Windsplitter seemed to be pointing him. The Argyll in command of the compound sneaked a quick and needed one from a flask and was handing it to his second in command.

Jonnie sized up the separate dome ahead. Well, they had done very well by the Chamco brothers. They had salvaged a dome canopy from some mine shafts not now working. It had been raised on a concrete circle. It s atmosphere lock was one of the better ones– a transparent revolving door to keep the breathe-gas in and the air out. There was a separate breathe-gas tank and pump. The transparent dome had shades and they were open now despite the sun's heat-Psychlos didn't seem to care much about heat and cold. Here the Chamcos were busy with plans and suggestions in return for pay– that could be paid now in cash thanks to

Ker's discovery of Galactic credits.

Jonnie knew them from his training days around the minesite. They were top-grade design and planning engineers, graduates of all the accepted Psychlo and company schools. By report they were extremely cooperative and even polite– as polite as a Psychlo ever could be, which was not much. Their idea of politeness was a one-way flow– at them.

They could be seen in there now, working at two big upholstered desks, flanked by drawing boards. There was an intercom of the usual type so one could stand outside and talk to those inside without going through the lock. But Jonnie could not imagine trying to talk technical matters through one of those intercoms.

Colonel Ivan must have read his mind. He pushed forward and said in his limited English, “You go in there?”

Then he looked around wildly for a Coordinator who spoke Russian.

The Coordinator interpreted, “He says that's bulletproof glass in that canopy. He can't cover you with rifles.”

Robert the Fox said, somewhat desperately, “Haven't you been out long enough for your first day?”

“This is what I came over to do,” said Jonnie, rolling off Windsplitter.

Doubtfully, Colonel Ivan handed him the knobkerrie and at the same time tried to get the interpreter to translate.

“The colonel says not to stand in the airlock,” said the Coordinator. “To go inside and move over to the right. If you don't, his men can't charge in.”

Hobbling toward the atmosphere lock, Jonnie heard the crowd behind him saying things like: “He's going in there, too! Doesn't he realize these Psychlos..." and “Oh, look at those awful beasts in there.” Jonnie didn't like all this impeding of his actions. Being a symbol had its problems! It was an entirely new idea to him that he couldn't move about freely at his own discretion and that others would have a say in where he was going.