“Sure, sure. Biggest city I ever seen. And draxna, look at what I got!” The spaceman lifted a necklace of red glass sparklers. “Won’t their eyes just bug out when I get home!”

Someone shoved Husting against the barrier so the wind went from him. He gasped and tried to squirm free.

“Say, cut that out. You’re hurting the poor guy.” One of the Galactics touched a stud on his belt. Gently but inexorably, the field widened, pushing the crowd back…and somehow, somehow Husting was inside it with the seven from the stars.

“You OK, pal?” Anxious hands lifted him to his feet.

“I, yeah, sure. Sure, I’m fine!” Husting stood up and grinned at the envious faces ringing him in. “Thanks a lot.”

“Glad to help you. My name’s Gilgrath. Call me Gil.” Strong fingers squeezed Husting’s shoulder. “And this here is Bronni, and here’s Col, and Jordo, and—”

“Pleased to meet you,” whispered Husting inadequately. ‘‘I’m Joe.”

“Say, this is all right!” said Gil enthusiastically. “I was wondering what was wrong with you folks.”

“Wrong?” Husting shook a dazed head, wondering if They were peering into his mind and reading thoughts of which he himself was unaware. Vague memories came back, grave-eyed Anubis weighing the heart of a man.

“You know,” said Gil. “Stand-offish, like.”

“Yeh,” added Bronni. “Every other new planet we been to, everybody was coming up and saying hello and buying us drinks and—”

“Parties,” reminded Jordo.

“Yeh. Man, remember that wing-ding on Alphaz? Remember those girls?” Col rolled his eyes lickerishly.

“You got a lot of good-looking girls here in New York,” complained Gil. “But we got orders not to offend nobody. Say, do you think one of those girls would mind if I said hello to her?”

Husting was scarcely able to think; it was the reflex of many years which now spoke for him, rapidly: “You have us all wrong. We’re just scared to talk to you. We thought maybe you didn’t want to be bothered.”

“And we thought you— Say!” Gil slapped his thigh and broke into a guffaw. “Now ain’t that something? They don’t want to bother us and we don’t want to bother them!”

‘‘I’ll be rixt!” bellowed Col. “Well, what do you know about that?”

“Hey, in that case—” began Jordo.

“Wait, wait!” Husting waved his hands. It was still habit which guided him; his mind was only slowly getting back into gear. “Let me get this straight. You want to do the town, right?”

“We sure do,” said Col. “It’s mighty lonesome out in space.”

“Well, look,” chattered Husting, “you’ll never be free of all these crowds, reporters—” (A flashbulb, the tenth or twelfth in these few minutes, dazzled his eyes.) “You won’t be able to let yourselves go while everybody knows you’re Galactics.”

“On Alphaz—” protested Bronni.

“This isn’t Alphaz. Now I’ve got an idea. Listen.” Seven dark heads bent down to hear an urgent whisper. “Can you get us away from here? Fly off invisible or something?”