 How did the Mercurians adjust to the heat?
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. "I did not want to call you in, Jaro Moynahan." The revolution is scheduled to break during the Festival of the Rains. Jaro Moynahan wiped the sweat from his forehead with a fine duraweb handkerchief. 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. On the hot, teeming planet of Mercury it was as refreshing as a cold plunge. These yellow-eyed Mercurians could see as well in the dark as any alley-prowling cat. For centuries they had lived most their lives beneath ground to escape the terrible rays of the sun. Only at night did they emerge to work their fields and ply their trades. If the girl had been abducted, only Mercurians could have engineered it in the dark; and the Mercurians were a clannish lot. Back on the narrow alley-like street Jaro Moynahan headed for his hostelry. By stretching out his arms he could touch the buildings on either side: buildings with walls four feet thick to keep out the heat of the sun. At infrequent intervals green globes cut a hole in the night, casting a faint illumination. They were never visible, but to his trained ears there came stealthy, revealing noises: the brush of cloth against the baked earth walls, the sly shuffle of a step. In the dense, humid night, he was like a blind man trying to elude the cat-eyed Mercurians. Jaro Moynahan In the East a sullen red glow stained the heavens like the reflection of a fire. The Mercurian dawn was about to break. Once back in his room, Jaro Moynahan stripped off his clothes, unbuckled a shoulder holster containing a compressed air slug gun, stepped under the shower.
 They mostly lived under the ground.
 Their yellow eyes filtered the sun’s rays.  They mostly lived under the ground.  Their skin kept them cool.  They would sweat to cool off.