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eating," the serpentman said.

  "No," Sheckly said hastily. They weren't going to make a meal out ofhim. "No, thanks. Look, I've got to leave your planet. Leave,understand? Right away."

  "The leader wishes you to join him," the creature repeated. This timethe sword crept into his hands.

  Sheckly stared at the sword, and his heart leaped. He thought there wasa tinge of red on the blade's edge. Mentally, he shook his head. No, itwas his imagination again. Just imagination. Still, the drawn swordclearly indicated that the invitation was not to be refused.

  "All right," he said weakly. "All right, in a few minutes."

  "Now," the other said.

  "Okay, now," the Earthling agreed listlessly. "Where is my companion?"

  "You will see him," the creature promised.

  Sheckly breathed a sigh of relief at that. Harding was probably allright then. It made him feel better, though it would make the task ofleaving much harder.

  * * * * *

  They had arrived at twilight the previous day, so they hadn't theopportunity to see the village in its entirety. They hadn't missed much,Sheckly realized as he walked along, for the grouped huts wereunimpressive, looking somewhat like a primitive African village back onEarth. But the Earthling would have preferred the most primitive Earthnative to these serpents. In the distance, the slim nose of the rocketship pointed the way to freedom, and Sheckly looked longingly at it.

  At one end of the village was a small mountain of what appeared to beplastic clothing, milkily translucent--which was strange, since thesecreatures wore no clothing. The Earthling wondered at this but did notask about it. Other thoughts more important troubled him.

  "In here," the interpreter told him, stopping before the largest hut.

  Hesitating briefly, Sheckly entered and the creature followed him in.Seated on the floor were the leader and his mate and several smallerreptiles that evidently were the children. Between them lay severalbowls of food. Sheckly grimaced and turned hastily away as he saw smallcrawling insects in one bowl.

  "Sit down," the interpreter directed.

  Harding was not in evidence. "Where is my companion?" he asked.

  The interpreter conferred briefly with the leader, then told Sheckly,"He could not come. Sit down--eat."

  Sheckly sat down, but he didn't feel like eating. He wondered _why_Harding could not come. At a sudden thought, he said, "I have rations onmy ship--"

  "Eat," the interpreter said, gripping his sword.

  Sheckly nodded weakly and reached out for the bowl of fruit, taking onethat resembled that which Harding had eaten the previous night. Itwasn't bad. The leader stuffed a fistful of squirming insects in hismouth and offered the bowl to Sheckly, who shook his head as politely ashe could and indicated the fruit in his hand.

  Fortunately, the serpentman did not insist on his taking anything otherthan fruit, so the meal passed without physical discomfort.

  When they were through, the leader hissed several syllables to theinterpreter, who said, "The leader wishes to see your games. You willset them up now."

  Sheckly ran his tongue over dry lips. "They're in the ship," he said,and eagerness crept into his voice. "I'll have to get them." Once insidethe ship, he'd never come back. He'd slam the airlock door and bolt itand then blast off as fast as he could get the motors going, Harding orno Harding. He got up.

  "We will help you," the interpreter said.

  "No. I can do it myself."

  "We will help you," the interpreter insisted firmly. His eyes bored intothe Earthling, as though daring him to refuse again.

  Sheckly's mouth felt dry once more. "Where's Harding?" he demanded."Where's the other Earth man? What have you done with him?"

  The interpreter looked at the leader, who nodded. The interpreter saidgravely, "It is too bad. It is the season for the shedding of skins. Atthe shedding feast last night--"

  "The shedding of skins!" Sheckly said, remembering the pile he'd seen atone corner of the village; "those translucent things were your cast-offskins." He recalled that some reptiles back on Earth had regular seasonsof shedding. That intelligent creatures should do it made him feelslightly sick.

  "Your friend joined us last night," the serpentman went on. "But hecould not shed properly, so--"

  Sheckly felt his blood turn to ice.

  "--so we helped him."

  "You _what_?"

  "We helped him out of his skin," the serpentman went on calmly. "We tryto help those who are friends with us. Your friend had trouble gettinghis skin off, but with our help--"

  "No!" the Earthling cried, trying to reject the thought.

  The full realization of what had happened struck him at once. Despitehimself, he could picture Harding struggling, trying to convince thesecreatures that Earthlings don't shed their skins. His struggles musthave convinced them only that he was having trouble shedding, so they"helped him." They had come to skin the natives, but the reverse washappening--only literally.

  "Where--where is he?" he asked finally, though he knew it didn't reallymatter.

  "We will take you to him," the interpreter said.

  "No," Sheckly cried. "No, I--I'd rather not."

  The serpentman nodded. "As you wish. He does not look pretty. I hopethat tonight you do not have as much trouble."

  Sheckly's eyes went wide. "What do you mean?"

  "In your shedding," the serpentman explained. "We will try to help youall we can, of course."

  "Of course," the Earthling agreed weakly, licking cottony lips. Hewondered how he could just stand there so apparently calm, instead ofletting out a shriek and running as fast as he could for the rocketship. He decided it was some sort of paralysis, the shock of findinghimself in the middle of something so alien his mind told him itcouldn't possibly be.

  * * * * *

  Knees wobbling, Sheckly went to the door and out into the morning. Thathe had gotten that far surprised him pleasantly. The tall rocket shipwas in a clearing several yards beyond the edge of the village. Heheaded for it. He thought of running, but his legs felt like rubber, hisblood like ice. He walked past the pile of drying skins on the groundwithout looking at them, and he was followed by the interpreter andseveral others whom the serpentman had motioned to join them. Except fortheir swords, they had no weapons, he noticed. Poor Harding, he thought,and wondered if the Earthling's skin were somewhere in the pile; he feltsick, thinking about it.

  "You'd better stay outside the ship," he suggested testily. "I'll lowerthe equipment to you."

  "I will go aboard with you," the serpentman said.

  "But--"

  "I will go aboard with you."

  Sheckly shrugged, but he hardly felt complacent. He felt as though agiant icy hand held onto his spine with a firm paralyzing grip. Hetrembled visibly. Got to think, he told himself desperately, got to planthis out. But fear jumbled his thoughts, and he could only think ofHarding back in the village minus his skin, and of what was going tohappen that night if all went as these creatures planned.

  The second thought was the more terrifying, and when they were within ahundred feet of the rocket ship, Sheckly broke into a frantic run.

  "Stop," the interpreter cried.

  Sheckly had no intentions of stopping. His glands told him to run, andhe ran. He ran as fast as he could and didn't look back. He imagined theserpentman was on his heels, knife poised, and he ran even faster. Hereached the rocket ship and went up the ladder, scrambling, missing hisfoothold, pulling himself up with clutching hands. He threw himselfthrough the airlock and slammed the massive door behind him.

  He ran through the metal corridors to the control room. They must be onthe ladder, he thought, prying at the airlock with their metal swords.He pressed switches, slammed down on the throttle, and the sweet musicof the rockets came and pressed him into his seat.

  He looked down at the planet dwindling into space below him and helaughed hysterically, thinking of the narrow escape he
'd had. No moreplanets for him, no more trying to skin anyone.

  * * * * *

  "There it goes," the Space Patrolman said, watching the rocket rise.

  Harding trembled with helpless rage. "That blasted fool Sheckly'll leadyou right to the money, too," he complained.

  "That's the way we planned it," the Patrolman smiled. "I must complimentour native friends on their fine acting. Your pal took off like a scaredrabbit."

  "Yeah," Harding grimaced, clenching his fists as though wishing he hadsomeone's neck in them.

  "Don't blame