Victims of Nimbo by Gilbert L. Morris Page A

wood ashes. She then poured water on top of the ashes. When the fluid came out the bottom, she said, “This is what we call lye water, Lomeen.”
    The girl was watching closely. “What do you do with it?”
    “I will show you. It will take a while, though.”
    Sarah took the lye water and poured it over grains of corn to soak them. The next day, she said, “See. The corn has swelled up.”
    Lomeen looked at it. “It
is
big. What do you do now?”
    “This is what is called hominy. What we’ll do is dry some of this, and we’ll eat the rest.”
    The hominy dish was tested by the chief himself at his table where Lomeen served him. His eyes opened wide, and he said, “This new food is good!”
    “Wait’ll you taste grits, Chief.” Sarah grinned. “I guarantee you’ll love them.”
    When the hominy was dry enough, Sarah pounded it into smaller fragments. It broke apart easily. When she had a plentiful supply, she said, “Now, this is grits, Lomeen. You can boil it, put some butter and salt and pepper on it, and you’ve got something good to eat.”
    “What’s pepper?” Lomeen asked innocently.
    Sarah gaped at her. “Well, it’s something that adds flavor to food.”
    The grits also proved to be a success, and soon Sarah had her hands full teaching all the women how to make the two delicacies. Apparently the villagers’ diet was so monotonous that anything new was a treat.
    Lomeen seemed very curious about Jere. She asked Sarah innumerable questions about the young man, including one that Sarah expected.
    “Does he have a wife, Sarah?”
    “I don’t think so.”
    “He is so handsome. It’s a shame our people are at war.”
    Sarah shot a quick glance at her. “I don’t think
their
people are. I think
your
people are at war. The Cloud People are very gentle. I wish you could spend a few days with Jere’s people. You’d like them, Lomeen.”
    “Really! Do you think they’d like me?”
    “Who wouldn’t like you?” Sarah smiled. She proceeded to tell Lomeen as much as she could about the king’s son, including the fact that he and his father did not get along well. “King Celevorn is a practical sort of man. He thinks his son ought to be busy doing important things, but Jere only wants to write poetry. He has a great imagination.”
    “I don’t think any of our people write poetry. They wouldn’t see any good in it. ‘You can’t eat it,’ they would say.”
    “That’s true, but there are a lot of things in life that you can’t eat or use, and yet they are nice.”
    Jere spent some time with the two girls. He always seemed jolly and could make up little poems as easily as other people could talk. It amazed Sarah and appeared to absolutely astound Lomeen, who said she’d never heard anything like this.
         The chief found the young stranger Jere quite interesting. One day the two of them went hunting, at which Jere said he was not the best in the world. He finally said, “I don’t wonder that your father is displeasedwith you, Jere.” He had heard much of this from the young man himself. “A man has to go out and bring in game.”
    “That’s true, Chief,” Jere said. “I feel ashamed of myself sometimes, but it gets so boring doing nothing but hunting—and taking care of things.”
    “But would you let things take care of themselves?” Maroni asked sternly. He really liked Jere, but he thought he saw a character fault here. He had talked to the young man more than once about the need for men to take charge and do things and accomplish important feats. He himself was a mighty hunter and noted among his people. Yes, the young man needed to do something important.
         One evening the whole village came together for a feast. The women cooked all day, roasting pigs over glowing coals. Sarah helped by turning a spit, though she shuddered a little when she saw that the head had been left on.
    The men did little but sit about and tell stories while the women hurried about