Within an hour I was ready. An hour of hurried, feverish preparation.
Yet after all, there was not much to do. I wore a bathing suit, with
a belt of the drugs strapped about my waist. And the stoutest shoes I
owned.
Foley's eyes were never for a moment off this fellow Alt. He appeared
inoffensive enough. He was not badly injured. Exhausted--he seemed only
to desire a rest; he lay quiet while we bathed and dressed his wounds.
They were bruises and superficial cuts where he had fallen on the sharp
rocks of his outward journey. His feet were the worst. He had started
with a pair of buskins, made of animal skin. The rocks had torn them to
shreds; his feet were bleeding and swollen.
"Couldn't Drake get you shoes?" I demanded. "Something to protect your
feet better than that?"
He smiled. A friendly, ingenuous sort of smile. I was alternating
between liking him and being suspicious of him.
"No," he said. "We do not have what you call shoes. Drake did not know
the journey would be so bad for me. It should not--I was not clever--I
did it wrong."
"What do you mean by that? You got lost?"
"No. Not lost--I will show you what I mean, when we start in."
He had brought no food or water, and needed both badly. He drank the
water we supplied him, and ate the bread avidly. The meat he discarded;
he did not know what it was. He shuddered when we told him--as though
to eat it would be cannibalistic.
I rigged a holster around my chest over one shoulder; and another about
my waist, above the drug belt, so that I could carry four automatics
and two or three knives. And with a cartridge belt, I was awkwardly
equipped; I felt like a walking arsenal.
"I can carry some of them," Alt offered.
"No, thank you," I retorted.
He smiled, but made no further comment.
The trip in to Drake, he said, should only take a few hours. We would
find water partway in; we needed little food. Alt suggested one small
bit of bread.
A very casual fellow this! Certainly he hardly believed in
preparedness. Suppose we got lost!
Strange journey! A trip, not of distance, but only of changing size.
There were so many factors to it that I had yet to learn! Alt said
quietly:
"Coming out, I used up my food at once. But going in that is not
necessary." He saw my puzzled expression, and added. "If we put that
piece of bread on a rock beside us, then in a moment there is a
mountain of bread that could feed a thousand."
We were ready at last. Alt needed rest. But he seemed anxious to start
at once.
"Drake bade me hurry."
We had bound his feet; and I found a large pair of shoes for him to
wear over the bandages.
"Can you walk?"
"Yes."
"Try it."
He hobbled along the side of the room, with Foley eying him. His feet
must have been painful; but in a moment he was walking with hardly a
limp.
A likable fellow, this. He said, "I can do it. Besides, I shall be more
clever going in--you will see. Our trip will be easy."
I said good-by to father.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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