"A doll," said Sara, in surprise.
"Not a doll," said Tuck. His hands were shaking and he was clutching the doll hard, probably in an attempt to keep his hands from shaking. "Not a doll. Not an idol. Look at its face!"
In the twilight the face was surprisingly plain to see. It was barely human. Primate, perhaps, although I couldn't be sure it was even that. But as I looked at it, I felt a sense of shock; human or not, it was an expressive face, and never had I seen a face with so much sadness in it or so much resignation to the sadness. It was no fancy carving. The face, in fact, was crude, it had been simply hacked out of a block of wood.
The whole thing had about it the look of a primitive corncob doll. But the knowing hands that had carved the face, driven by God knows what sadness of their own, had caught within its planes a misery of existence that wrenched one's heart to see.
Tuck slowly raised the doll in both his hands and clutched it tight against his breast. He looked from one to the other of us.
"Don't you see?" he cried at us. "Don't you understand!"
SIX
Night had fallen. The fire carved a magic circle of light out of the darkness that pressed in all about us. Back of me I could hear the gentle creak as the hobbies rocked gently back and forth. Smith still sprawled limp against the wall. We had tried to rouse him to give him food, but there was no such thing as rousing him. He was simply a sack, still with us in body, but certainly not in mind; his mind was somewhere else. Beside him leaned the metallic body of the mindless robot, Roscoe. And off a little ways sat Tuck with that doll of his clutched tight against his breast, not moving, with his eyes staring out into the darkness.
We were off to a damn poor start, I thought. Already the expedition had started to fall apart.
"Where is Hoot?" asked Sara.
"Off somewhere," I said. "Prowling. He's a restless sort of being. Hadn't you ought to try to get some sleep?"
"And you'll sit up and watch?"
"I'm not Launcelot," I told her. "if that's what you're getting at. You can depend on it—I'll rout you out later on so I can get some sack time."
"In a little while," she said. "Did you happen to notice this place is built of stone?"
"I suppose I had," I said. "I hadn't thought about it."
"Not like the buildings in the city," she said. "This one is made of honest stone. I'm not up on stone. Looks like granite, maybe. You have any idea what the city might be made of?"
"Not stone," I said. "That stuff was never quarried from the ground. Some sort of fabricated material, most likely. Chemical, perhaps. The atoms bonded more tightly than anything we know. Nothing in God's world, more than likely, could pull that stuff apart. When I fired the laser bolt into the landing field, the field wasn't even scorched."
"You know chemistry, captain?"
I shook my head. "Not so you would notice."
"The people who built this building didn't build the city. A more ancient people . . ."
"We can't know that," I said. "There is no way of knowing how long the city's stood. It would take millions of years for it to show any wear or erosion—if it would ever show it."
We sat in silence for a moment. I picked up a stick of wood and poked the sticks in the fire together. The fire blazed up.
"Come morning, captain?" she asked.
"What do you mean come morning?"
"What do we do' then?"
"We go on if the tree will let us. We have some footloose centaurs to find, to see if they have a braincase and if we can get the braincase . . ."
She nodded her head in Smith's direction. "What of him?" she asked.
"Maybe he'll come to by then. If not we sling him on a hobby. And if Tuck doesn't snap out of his trance by then, I'll kick him back to life."
"But George was looking for something, too. And he has found what he was looking for."
"Look," I said, "who was it that bought the, ship and paid the bill? Who brought Smith to this place? Don't tell me that you are ready to cave in and stop short
"Not a doll," said Tuck. His hands were shaking and he was clutching the doll hard, probably in an attempt to keep his hands from shaking. "Not a doll. Not an idol. Look at its face!"
In the twilight the face was surprisingly plain to see. It was barely human. Primate, perhaps, although I couldn't be sure it was even that. But as I looked at it, I felt a sense of shock; human or not, it was an expressive face, and never had I seen a face with so much sadness in it or so much resignation to the sadness. It was no fancy carving. The face, in fact, was crude, it had been simply hacked out of a block of wood.
The whole thing had about it the look of a primitive corncob doll. But the knowing hands that had carved the face, driven by God knows what sadness of their own, had caught within its planes a misery of existence that wrenched one's heart to see.
Tuck slowly raised the doll in both his hands and clutched it tight against his breast. He looked from one to the other of us.
"Don't you see?" he cried at us. "Don't you understand!"
SIX
Night had fallen. The fire carved a magic circle of light out of the darkness that pressed in all about us. Back of me I could hear the gentle creak as the hobbies rocked gently back and forth. Smith still sprawled limp against the wall. We had tried to rouse him to give him food, but there was no such thing as rousing him. He was simply a sack, still with us in body, but certainly not in mind; his mind was somewhere else. Beside him leaned the metallic body of the mindless robot, Roscoe. And off a little ways sat Tuck with that doll of his clutched tight against his breast, not moving, with his eyes staring out into the darkness.
We were off to a damn poor start, I thought. Already the expedition had started to fall apart.
"Where is Hoot?" asked Sara.
"Off somewhere," I said. "Prowling. He's a restless sort of being. Hadn't you ought to try to get some sleep?"
"And you'll sit up and watch?"
"I'm not Launcelot," I told her. "if that's what you're getting at. You can depend on it—I'll rout you out later on so I can get some sack time."
"In a little while," she said. "Did you happen to notice this place is built of stone?"
"I suppose I had," I said. "I hadn't thought about it."
"Not like the buildings in the city," she said. "This one is made of honest stone. I'm not up on stone. Looks like granite, maybe. You have any idea what the city might be made of?"
"Not stone," I said. "That stuff was never quarried from the ground. Some sort of fabricated material, most likely. Chemical, perhaps. The atoms bonded more tightly than anything we know. Nothing in God's world, more than likely, could pull that stuff apart. When I fired the laser bolt into the landing field, the field wasn't even scorched."
"You know chemistry, captain?"
I shook my head. "Not so you would notice."
"The people who built this building didn't build the city. A more ancient people . . ."
"We can't know that," I said. "There is no way of knowing how long the city's stood. It would take millions of years for it to show any wear or erosion—if it would ever show it."
We sat in silence for a moment. I picked up a stick of wood and poked the sticks in the fire together. The fire blazed up.
"Come morning, captain?" she asked.
"What do you mean come morning?"
"What do we do' then?"
"We go on if the tree will let us. We have some footloose centaurs to find, to see if they have a braincase and if we can get the braincase . . ."
She nodded her head in Smith's direction. "What of him?" she asked.
"Maybe he'll come to by then. If not we sling him on a hobby. And if Tuck doesn't snap out of his trance by then, I'll kick him back to life."
"But George was looking for something, too. And he has found what he was looking for."
"Look," I said, "who was it that bought the, ship and paid the bill? Who brought Smith to this place? Don't tell me that you are ready to cave in and stop short
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