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“You can talk!” Dermott blurted, skidding to a stop.

Dameri Tass shrugged. “Faith, an’ why not? As I was after sayin’, I shared the kerit helmet with Tim Casey.”

Patrolman Dermott glared at him unbelievingly. “You learned the language just by sticking that Rube Goldberg deal on Tim’s head?”

“Sure, an’ why not?”

Dermott muttered, “And with it he has to pick up the corniest brogue west of Dublin.”

Tim Casey got to his feet indignantly. “I’m after resentin’ that, Larry Dermott. Sure, an’ the way we talk in Ireland is–“

Dameri Tass interrupted, pointing to a bedraggled horse that had made its way to within fifty feet of the vessel. “Now what could that be after bein’?”

The patrolmen followed his stare. “It’s a horse. What else?”

“A horse?”

Larry Dermott looked again, just to make sure. “Yeah–not much of a horse, but a horse.”

Dameri Tass sighed ecstatically. “And jist what is a horse, if I may be so bold as to be askin’?”

“It’s an animal you ride on.”

The alien tore his gaze from the animal to look his disbelief at the other. “Are you after meanin’ that you climb upon the crature’s back and ride him? Faith now, quit your blarney.”

He looked at the horse again, then down at his equipment. “Begorra,” he muttered, “I’ll share the kerit helmet with the crature.”

“Hey, hold it,” Dermott said anxiously. He was beginning to feel like a character in a shaggy dog story.

Interest in the horse was ended with the sudden arrival of a helicopter. It swooped down on the field and settled within twenty feet of the alien craft. Almost before it had touched, the door was flung open and the flying windmill disgorged two bestarred and efficient-looking Army officers.

Casey and Dermott snapped them a salute.

The senior general didn’t take his eyes from the alien and the spacecraft as he spoke, and they bugged quite as effectively as had those of the patrolmen when they’d first arrived on the scene.

“I’m Major General Browning,” he rapped. “I want a police cordon thrown up around this, er, vessel. No newsmen, no sightseers, nobody without my permission. As soon as Army personnel arrives, we’ll take over completely.”

“Yes, sir,” Larry Dermott said. “I just got a report on the radio that the governor is on his way, sir. How about him?”

The general muttered something under his breath. Then, “When the governor arrives, let me know; otherwise, nobody gets through!”

Dameri Tass said, “Faith, and what goes on?”

The general’s eyes bugged still further. “He talks!” he accused.

“Yes, sir,” Dermott said. “He had some kind of a machine. He put it over Tim’s head and seconds later he could talk.”

“Nonsense!” the general snapped.

Further discussion was interrupted by the screaming arrival of several motorcycle patrolmen followed by three heavily laden patrol cars. Overhead, pursuit planes zoomed in and began darting about nervously above the field.

“Sure, and it’s quite a reception I’m after gettin’,” Dameri Tass said. He yawned. “But what I’m wantin’ is a chance to get some sleep. Faith, an’ I’ve been awake for almost a decal.”

* * * * *

Dameri Tass was hurried, via helicopter, to Washington. There he disappeared for several days, being held incommunicado while White House, Pentagon, State Department and Congress tried to figure out just what to do with him.

Never in the history of the planet had such a furor arisen. Thus far, no newspapermen had been allowed within speaking distance. Administration higher-ups were being subjected to a volcano of editorial heat but the longer the space alien was discussed the more they viewed with alarm the situation his arrival had precipitated. There were angles that hadn’t at first been evident.

Obviously he was from some civilization far beyond that of Earth’s. That was the rub. No matter what he said, it would shake governments, possibly overthrow social systems, perhaps even destroy established religious concepts.