From that time on she had
absolute and unquestioning confidence in all that was told her. In her
eyes, the twelve were simply angels or gods who had seen fit to clothe
themselves queerly and act human.
Supper over, she felt immensely tired. All the strain of the past three
weeks had to have its reaction. Like a very tired, sleepy child, she was
led to a room in another part of the building, where she was shown an
ordinary sleeping-cot. She promptly pulled the mattress onto the floor,
where she considered it belonged, and fell fast asleep.
Meanwhile, back on the earth, Van Emmon and Smith had lost no time in
making use of the doctor's description of the twelve. Within a few
minutes they had new agents; Van Emmon used Somat's eyes and ears, while
Smith got in touch with the elderly bearded man at the head of the
table. His name was Deltos.
"A very striking confirmation of the old legends," he was saying through
a big yawn, as Smith made connection. He used a colloquial type of
language, quite different from the lofty, dignified speech of the
Sanusians. "That is, of course, if the woman is telling the truth."
"And I think she is," declared the young fellow at the foot of the
table. "It makes me feel pretty small, to think that none of us ever had
the nerve to make the trip; while she, ignorant as she is, dared it all
and succeeded!"
"You forget, Sorplee," reminded Somat, "that such people are far hardier
than we.
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