juvenile population were as curious as their elders were contemptuous.
Perhaps there was a method of approach in that. Dane considered the idea.

Van Rycke and Captain Jellico had handled the first negotiations--and the
process had taken most of a day--the result totaling exactly nothing. In
their contacts with the off world men the feline ancestered Salariki were
ceremonious, wary, and completely detached. But Cam had gotten to them
somehow--or he would not have returned from his first trip with that
pouch of Koros stones. Only, among his records, salvaged on Limbo, he had
left absolutely no clue as to how he had beaten down native sales
resistance. It was baffling. But patience had to be the middle name of
every Trader and Dane had complete faith in Van. Sooner or later the
Cargo-master would find a key to unlock the Salariki.

As if the thought of Dane's chief had summoned him, Van Rycke, his
scented tunic sealed to his bull's neck in unaccustomed trimness, his
cap on his blond head, strode down the ramp, broadcasting waves of
fragrance as he moved. He sniffed vigorously as he approached his
assistant and then nodded in approval.

"So you're all greased and ready--"

"Is the Captain coming too, sir?"

Van Rycke shook his head. "This is our headache. Patience, my boy,
patience--" He led the way through a thin screen of the grass on the
other side of the scorched landing field to a well-packed earth road.

Again Dane felt eyes, knew that they were being watched. But no Salarik
stepped out of concealment. At least they had nothing to fear in the way