 Which isn't true about the Mercurians?
But now, on Mercury, he was selling his guns into the weirdest of all his exploits—gambling his life against the soft touch of a woman's lips. [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from Planet Stories Summer 1945. Only the native waiters, the enigmatic, yellow-eyed Mercurians, seemed unaffected by the heat. The Mercurian, his yellow incurious eyes like two round topazes, sidled up. "So," said the red-head; "you have come. "I did not want to call you in, Jaro Moynahan." Only a handful of fanatics are engineering the revolution. The real Mercurian patriots are against it, but they are afraid to protest. The revolution is scheduled to break during the Festival of the Rains. If it does, the Terrestrials here will be massacred. Jaro Moynahan wiped the sweat from his forehead with a fine duraweb handkerchief. "There is one man; he is the leader, the very soul of the revolution. The Mercurians worship him. Jaro Moynahan refilled their empty glasses. The girl started, glanced at the pianist, said with a shiver: "We can't locate Karfial Hodes. "Ah," said Jaro Moynahan; "so that's the way it is." One moment the garden was glowing in light, the next the hot black night swooped down on the revelers, pressing against their eyes like dark wool. Jaro Moynahan slipped sideways from the table. Across the table from Jaro there was the feel of movement; he could sense it.
 most want a revolution
 they're peaceful people  most want a revolution  they can handle extreme heat  they can see well in the day