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“I’d judge about a meter on each side but it kept switching. I’ve got good tapes of that last leap. I set the speed half again higher so you can play back for more detail.”

“That’s using your head, Bonnard.”

“Here comes another! Rakers! Look at the speed on that thing!”

“I’d rather not,” said Terilla. “How does it know we’re here? I don’t see any sort of eyes or antenna or anything. It can’t see the shadows.”

“The fringes?” asked Bonnard. “Sonar?”

“Not for leaping out of water,” replied Varian. “We’ll possibly find out how it perceives us when we can replay. Rather interesting. And were those claws I saw? Two of them?”

“That’s bad?” Bonnard had caught the puzzled note in her voice.

“Not bad, Bonnard, but damned unusual. The fliers, the herbivores and the predators are pentadactyl, which isn’t an unlikely evolution, but two digits on a side flange?”

“I saw flying longies once,” said Cleiti in a bright helpful voice. “They were a meter long and they undulated. No feet at all, but they could ripple along in the air for kilometers.”

“Light-gravity planet?”

“Yes, Varian, and dry!”

The sun had slunk behind the clouds again and the thin noonday drizzle settled in so that the others laughed at her sour comment.

“Digits are important in evolution, aren’t they, Varian?” asked Bonnard.

“Very. You can have intelligent life, like those avians, but until a species becomes a tool-user, they don’t have much chance of rising above their environment.”

“The fliers have, haven’t they?” asked Bonnard with a broad grin for his play on words.

“Yes, Bonnard, they have,” she replied with a laugh.

“I heard about them being in the Rift Valley, with grasses,” Bonnard went on. “Is this why they got that type of grass? To make the nets?”

“There was a lot of thick, tough grass around the place where we saved Dandy, and that was a lot closer for them,” said Cleiti.

“You’re right there, Cleiti. I’ve thought the fliers might need the Rift Valley grass for some dietary requirement.”

“I have some of the vegetation from the grove of fruit trees, Varian,” said Terilla.

“You do? That’s great. We can do some real investigation. How clever of you, Terilla.”

“Not clever, you know me and plants,” said the girl, but her cheeks were flushed with reaction to the praise.

“I take back what I said about your stupid plants,” said Bonnard with unusual magnanimity.

“I’ll be very keen to see how mature their young are,” Varian said, having quietly considered the curious habits of the golden creatures for a few minutes.

“How mature? Their young? Isn’t that a contradiction?” asked Bonnard.

“Not really. You are born very young . . .”

Cleiti giggled. “Everyone is, or you wouldn’t be young . . .”

“I don’t mean age, I mean ability, Cleiti. Now, let’s see what comparisons I can draw for you ship-bred . . .”

“I lived my first four years on a planet,” said Terilla.

“Did you? Which one?”

“Arthos in the Aurigae section. I’ve touched down on two more and stayed for months.”

“And what animals did you see on Arthos?” Varian knew but Terilla so seldom volunteered any information, or had a chance to with such aggressive personalities as Cleiti and Bonnard.

“We had milk cows, and four-legged dogs, and horses. Then there were six-legged dogs, offoxes, cantileps and spurges.”

“Seen any tape on cows, dogs, and horses, Cleiti? Bonnard?”

“Sure!”

“All right, cows and horses bear live young who are able to rise to their feet about a half-hour after birth and, if necessary, run with their dams. They are therefore born mature and already programmed for certain instinctive actions and responses. You and I were born quite small and physically immature. We had to be taught by our parents or guardians how to eat, walk, run and talk and take care of ourselves.”

“So?” Bonnard regarded Varian steadily, waiting for the point of her digression.

“So, the horse and cow don’t learn a lot from their parents: not much versatility or adaptability is required of them. Whereas human babies . . .”

“Have to learn too much too soon too well and all the time,” said Cleiti with such