“It’s simpler than that. If this monster is killed, you’ll never trade with this planet. You’ll never even leave it. You probably won’t live the day out.”
“Why? Why?”
“Because this is one of the young of the species. You should know what happens when a trader kills a native young, even accidentally. What’s more, if this is the target-point, then we are on the estate of a powerful native. This might be one of his brood.”
That was how they entered their present prison. They had carefully burnt away a portion of the thick, stiff covering and it was obvious that the height from which they were suspended was a killing one.
Now, once again, the prison-cage shuddered and lifted in an upward arc. The Merchant rolled to the lower rim and startled awake. The cover lifted and light flooded in. As was the case the time before, there were two specimens of the young. They were not very different in appearance from adults of the species, reflected the Explorer, though, of course, they were considerably smaller.
A handful of reedy green stalks was stuffed between the bars. Its odor was not unpleasant but it carried clods of soil at its ends.
The Merchant drew away and said, huskily, “What are they doing?”
The Explorer said, “Trying to feed us, I should judge. At least this seems to be the native equivalent of grass.”
The cover was replaced and they were set swinging again, alone with their fodder.