Jerome Bixby

“ If they don't return, nobody's going to come looking for them. They come from that kind of society. The others will mark Sol off as a bad bet and move on."
He clicked the gun together. "They still think we're the race pictured in the Martian crypts and temples—and in your translations, Randolph. Coincidence eh? that the old Martians were humanoid and their appearance not discrepant with ours."
"We colonize Mars," mused Randolph, "and Beta Centauri colonizes us as Martians. Ring around the rosy."
Burke stood there, the proton-buster in his hand. ”

“ He appreciated Randolph's watercolor painting of the canal." His voice was regretful. "How alien can you get? His name was Randolph, and he's going home in disgrace."
"There goes a pretty decent person," said Burke. "I'm glad we don't have to kill him."
Night was coming. Burke's face hardened. The Centaurians would be coming too, ready to herd the Martians into their sleeping huts.
"One alien ship, terribly armed," Burke went on, "and sixty Centaurians walking around unarmed because they think we're pansies." He cocked the gun. "They'll never leave Kinkaaka to bring back more." ”

“ And it was cosmic coincidence that the Centaurians landed their ship at practically the same spot we'd set down only three days before. And it's almost incredible that they came to this village where we had taken up headquarters and addressed us in English! ”