"Go in," he formed the Trade Lingo words with care. And Dane's surprise
must have been plain to read for the cub followed his speech with a
vigorous nod and set one foot on the ramp to underline his desire.

For one of the Salariki, who had continually manifested their belief that
Terrans and their ship were an offence to the nostrils of all right
living "men," to wish to enter the spacer was an astonishing about-face.
But any advantage no matter how small, which might bring about a closer
understanding, must be seized at once.

Dane accepted the growling Sinbad and beckoned, knowing better than to
touch the boy. "Come--"

Only one of the junior clansmen obeyed that invitation. The other
watched, big-eyed, and then scuttled back to the forest when his fellow
called out some suggestion. _He_ was not going to be trapped.

Dane led the way up the ramp, paying no visible attention to the young
Salarik, nor did he urge the other on when he lingered for a long moment
or two at the port. In his mind the Cargo-master apprentice was
feverishly running over the list of general trade goods. What _did_ they
carry which would make a suitable and intriguing gift for a small alien
with such a promising bump of curiosity? If he had only time to get Van
Rycke!

The Salarik was inside the corridor now, his nostrils spread, assaying
each and every odor in this strange place. Suddenly his head jerked as if
tugged by one of his own net ropes. His interest had been riveted by some
scent his sensitive senses had detected. His eyes met Dane's in appeal.