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the floors of our houses. My mate and our two children lie beneath
this floor. But I must go and fetch food and water for you. I shall not
be gone long." And with that, she left us.
"Poor old creature," said Nalte. "She has nothing to look forward to
except the grave, with the chance that Skor may rob her of even that
poor future."
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"How strange she lookedl" There was a shocked expression in Duare's
eyes as she spoke. "So that is old age! I never saw it before. That is the
way I should look some day, were it not for the serum! How ghastly
Oh, I should rather die than be like that. Old age! Oh, how terrible!"
Here was a unique experience. I was witnessing the reactions of a
nineteen-year-old girl who had never before seen the ravages of old
age, and I could not but wonder if the subconscious effect of old age
on youth accustomed to seeing it was not similar. But these
meditations were interrupted by the return of the old woman, and I
caught a new insight into the character of Duare.
As the old woman entered the room, her arms laden, Duare ran
forward and took the things from her. "You should have let me come
with you and help you," she said. "I am younger and stronger."
Then she placed the food and water upon a table, and with a sweet
smile she put an arm about the withered shoulders of the old crone
and drew her toward a bench. "Sit down," she said. "Nalte and I will
prepare the food. You just sit here and rest until it is ready, and then
we shall all eat together."
The old woman looked at her in astonishment for a moment and then
burst into tears. Duare dropped to the bench beside her and put her
arms about her.
"Why do you cry?" she asked.
"I don't know why I cry," sobbed the old creature. "I feel like singing,
but I cry. It has been so long since I have heard kind words, since any
one has cared whether I was happy or sad, tired or rested."
I saw the tears come to Duare's eyes and to Nalte's, and they had to
busy themselves with the preparation of the food to hide their
emotions.
That night a dozen of the living of Kormor came to the house of
Kroona, the old woman who had befriended us. They were all very
old, some of them older than Kroona. They laughed at Kroona's fears
that Skor wanted them; and pointed out, as evidently they had many
times before, that if it was old bodies Skor wanted he long since could
have found them, for their old age was ample evidence that they were
of the living. But Kroona insisted that they were all in danger; and I
soon realized that it was her pet obsession, without which she would
probably be more miserable than she was with it. She got a great thrill
out of leading a life of constant danger and hiding first in one house
and then in another.
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But they were all of one opinion that we were in great danger, and the
dear old things pledged themselves to help us in every way they could-
-to bring us food and water and hide us from our enemies. That was
all that they could do, for none of them believed that it was possible to
escape from Kormor.
Early the following morning a very old man, one of the visitors of the
previous evening, hobbled into the house. He was perturbed and
greatly excited. His palsied hands were trembling. "They are
searching the city for you," he whispered. Shere is a terrible story of
what you did to Skor and of what Skor will do to you when he finds
you. All night and all day last night be lay bound and helpless where
you left him; then one of his creatures found and released him. Now
the whole city is being scoured for you. They may be here any
minute."
"What can we do?" asked Duare, "Where can we hide?"
"You can do nothing," said the old man, "but wait until they come.
There is no place in all Kormor that they will not search."
"We can do something," said Nalte; then she turned to our informant.
"Can you get us paints such as the corpses use to make themselves
appear like living men?"
"Yes," said the old man.
"Well, go quickly and fetch them," urged Nalte.
The old man hobbled out of the room, mumbling to himself.
"It is the only way, Nalte," I cried. "I believe that if he returns in time
we can fool them; dead men are not very bright."
It seemed a long ffme before the old man came back; but he came
finally, and he brought a large box of makeup with him. It was quite
an elaborate affair which he said that he had obtained from a friend of
his, a living man, whose craft was applying the makeup to corpses.
Quickly Nalte went to work on Duare and soon had transformed her
into an old woman with lines and wrinkles and hollows. The hair was
the most difficult problem to solve, but we finally succeeded in
approximating the results we desired, though we used up all of the
cosmetician's white pigment, rubbing it into our hair.
Duare and I together worked on Nalte, for we knew that we had no
time to spare, the old man having brought word when he returned
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with the make-up that the searchers were working in the next block
and coming our way; then Nalte and Duare transformed me into a
very sad looking old man.
Kroona said that we should each have some task that we could be
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