"Ye would not trick me with magic; ye, who call yourselves friends!"
Somat interpreted this to the others. Some laughed; others looked
pityingly at her. Somat explained:
"It is nothing, stranger. Be not afraid. We forgot that ye might know
nothing of this 'magic.'" He considered deeply, apparently trying to put
himself in her place. "Know ye not fire?" Of course, she did not know
what he meant. "Then," with an inspiration, "perchance ye have see the
flower, the red flower, ye might call--"
"Aye!" eagerly. "Doth it grow here?"
Somat smiled with satisfaction, and beckoned for her to follow him. He
led the way through a small door into another room, evidently used as a
kitchen. There he pointed to a large range, remarkably like the up-to-
date article known on the earth.
"The flower 'groweth' here," said he, and lifted a lid from the stove.
Up shot the flame.
"Great Mownoth!" shouted Rolla, forgetting all about her hunger. "I have
found it--the precious flower itself!"
Somat humored her childlike view-point. "We have the seed of the flower,
too," said he. He secured a box of matches from a shelf, and showed her
the "little sticks."
"Exactly what the angel showed me!" jubilated Holla. "I have come to the
right place!"
Back she went to her food, her face radiant, and all her lurking
suspicion of the twelve completely gone.
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