“Anything wrong?” he asked.

“No; just thought we’d drop in and see how you were making out,” Lunt told him.  “We don’t get up this way often.  Haven’t had any trouble lately, have you?”

“Not since the last time.”  The last time had been a couple of woods tramps, out-of-work veldbeest herders from the south, who had heard about the little bag he carried around his neck.  All the Constabulary had needed to do was remove the bodies and write up a report.  “Come on in and hang up your guns awhile.  I have something I want to show you.”

Little Fuzzy had come out and was pulling at his trouser leg; he stooped and picked him up, setting him on his shoulder.  The rest of the family, deciding that it must be safe, had come to the door and were looking out.

“Hey!  What the devil are those things?” Lunt asked, stopping short halfway from the car.

“Fuzzies.  Mean to tell me you’ve never seen Fuzzies before?”

“No, I haven’t.  What are they?”

The two Constabulary men came closer, and Jack stepped back into the house, shooing the Fuzzies out of the way.  Lunt and Khadra stopped inside the door.

“I just told you.  They’re Fuzzies.  That’s all the name I know for them.”

A couple of Fuzzies came over and looked up at Lieutenant Lunt; one of them said, “Yeek?”

“They want to know what you are, so that makes it mutual.”

Lunt hesitated for a moment, then took off his belt and holster and hung it on one of the pegs inside the door, putting his beret over it.  Khadra followed his example promptly.  That meant that they considered themselves temporarily off duty and would accept a drink if one were offered.  A Fuzzy was pulling at Ahmed Khadra’s trouser leg and asking to be noticed, and Mamma Fuzzy was holding Baby up to show to Lunt.  Khadra, rather hesitantly, picked up the Fuzzy who was trying to attract his attention.

“Never saw anything like them before Jack,” he said.  “Where did they come from?”

“Ahmed; you don’t know anything about those things,” Lunt reproved.

“They won’t hurt me, Lieutenant; they haven’t hurt Jack, have they?” He sat down on the floor, and a couple more came to him.  “Why don’t you get acquainted with them?  They’re cute.”

George Lunt wouldn’t let one of his men do anything he was afraid to do; he sat down on the floor, too, and Mamma brought her baby to him.  Immediately, the baby jumped onto his shoulder and tried to get onto his head.

“Relax, George,” Jack told him, “They’re just Fuzzies; they want to make friends with you.”

“I’m always worried about strange life forms,” Lunt said.  “You’ve been around enough to know some of the things that have happened—­”

“They are not a strange life form; they are Zarathustran mammals.  The same life form you’ve had for dinner every day since you came here.  Their biochemistry’s identical with ours.  Think they’ll give you the Polka-Dot Plague, or something?” He put Little Fuzzy down on the floor with the others.  “We’ve been exploring this planet for twenty-five years, and nobody’s found anything like that here.”