Either because the speeder had passed out of range or because the second Tusken had convinced the other, the two broke off the discussion and scrambled down the backside of the high ridge. Snuffling and a shifting of weight took place at the ridge bottom as the two Banthas stirred at the approach of their masters. Each was as large as a small dinosaur, with bright eyes and long, thick fur. They hissed anxiously as the two sandpeople approached, then mounted them from knee to saddle. With a kick Banthas rose. Moving slowly but with enormous strides, the two massive horned creatures swept down the back of the rugged bluff, urged on by their anxious, equally outrageous mahouts. "It’s him, all right," Luke declared with mixed anger and satisfaction as the tiny tripodal form came into view. The speeder banked and swung down onto the floor of a huge sandstone canyon. Luke slipped his rifle out from behind the seat and swung it over his shoulder. "Come round in front of him, Threepio," he instructed. "With pleasure, sir." The Artoo unit obviously noted their approach, but mad no move to escape. it could hardly have outrun the landspeeder anyway. Artoo simply halted as soon as it detected them and waited until the craft swung around in a smooth arc. Threepio came to a sharp halt, sending up a low cloud of sand on the smaller robot’s right. Then the whine from the landspeeder’s engine 0dropped to a low idling hum as Threepio put it in parking mode. A last sigh and the craft stopped completely. After finishing a cautious survey of the canyon, Luke led his companion out onto the gravelly surface and up to Artoo Detoo. "Just where," he inquired sharply, "did you think you were going?" A feeble whistle issued from the apologetic robot, but it was Threepio and not the recalcitrant rover who was abruptly doing most of the talking. "Master Luke here is now your rightful owner, Artoo. How could you just amble away from him like this? Now that’s he’s found you, let’s have no more of this ’Obi-wan Kenobi’s gibberish. I don’t know where picked that up—or that melodramatic hologram, either." Artoo started to beep in protest, but Threepio’s indignation was too great to permit excuses. "And don’t talk to me about your mission. What rot! You’re fortunate Master Luke doesn’t blast you into a million pieces right here and now." "Not much chance of that," admitted Luke, a bit overwhelmed by Threepio’s casual vindictiveness. "Come on—it’s getting late." He eyed the rapidly rising suns. "I just hope we can get back before Uncle Owen really lets go." "If you don’t mind my saying so," Threepio suggested, apparently unwilling that the Artoo unit should get off so easily, "I think you ought to deactivate the little fugitive until you’ve gotten him safely back in the garage." "No. He’s not going to try anything." Luke studied the softly beeping ’droid sternly. "I hope he’s learned his lesson. There’s no need to—" Without warning the Artoo unit suddenly leaped off the ground—no mean feat considering the weakness of the spring mechanisms in his three thick legs. His cylindrical body was twisting and spinning as he let out a frantic symphony of whistles, hoots, and electronic exclamations.