He looked me straight in the eyes when he said it--and almost before
the words were out of his mouth, they were whipped in again on a
drawn-back, great, sucking breath. For, somewhere outside, somewhere
near that dancing circle, in perfect time with the lively beat of the
drums, somebody was whistling.
It was a clear, clean sound, a merry, bright, happy sound, as sharp
and as precise as the thrust of a razor through a piece of soft yellow
cheese.
"In your teeth, Wahanhk! Right in your teeth!"
He only looked at me for another dull instant and then his eyes slowly
closed and his hands folded together in his lap. Being caught in a lie
only bores a Martian.