In the rolling periods of the Trade Lingo the torch bearer identified himself as Groft, son and heir of the late lamented Paft.  Until his chieftain father was avenged in blood he could not assume the high seat of his clan nor the leadership of the family.  And now, following custom, he was inviting the friends and sometimes allies of the dead Paft to a gorp hunt.  Such a gorp hunt, Dane gathered from amidst the flowers of ceremonial Salariki speech, as had never been planned before on the face of Sargol.  Salariki without number in the past had died beneath the ripping talons of the water reptiles, but it was seldom that a chieftain had so fallen and his clan were firm in their determination to take a full blood price from the killers.

“—­and so, sky lords,” Groft brought his oration to a close, “we come to ask that you send your young men to this hunting so that they may know the joy of plunging knives into the scaled death and see the horned ones die bathed in their own vile blood!”

Dane needed no hint from the Queen’s officers that this invitation was a sharp departure from custom.  By joining with the natives in such a foray the Terrans were being admitted to kinship of a sort, cementing relations by a tie which the I-S, or any other interloper from off-world, would find hard to break.  It was a piece of such excellent good fortune as they would not have dreamed of three days earlier.

Van Rycke replied, his voice properly sonorous, sounding out the rounded periods of the rolling tongue which they had all been taught during the voyage, using Cam’s recording.  Yes, the Terrans would join with pleasure in so good and great a cause.  They would lend the force of their arms to the defeat of all gorp they had the good fortune to meet.  Groft need only name the hour for them to join him—­

It was not needful, the young Salariki chieftain-to-be hastened to tell the Cargo-master, that the senior sky lords concern themselves in this matter.  In fact it would be against custom, for it was meet that such a hunt be left to warriors of few years, that they might earn glory and be able to stand before the fires at the Naming as men.  Therefore—­the thumb claw of Groft was extended to its greatest length as he used it to single out the Terrans he had been eyeing—­let this one, and that, and that, and the fourth be ready to join with the Salariki party an hour after nooning on this very day and they would indeed teach the slimy, treacherous lurkers in the depths a well needed lesson.

The Salarik’s choice with one exception had unerringly fallen upon the youngest members of the crew, Ali, Rip, and Dane in that order.  But his fourth addition had been Jasper Weeks.  Perhaps because of his native pallor of skin and slightness of body the oiler had seemed, to the alien, to be younger than his years.  At any rate Groft had made it very plain that he chose these men and Dane knew that the Queen’s officers would raise no objection which might upset the delicate balance of favorable relations.