by Don Wilcox
“Formula number 327,” the scientist, would say, “was an attempt to lengthen life.”
“I have fed more than nine hundred cakes from this formula to old men and women of this forest.”
“Yes, here is a record of their ages at death!” And the scientist would review the periods of feeding, and compare their average length of life to that of a similar group not treated to such cakes.
Later, “Formula 420 was our experiment in altering the shapes of horns from straight spikes to graceful curves.”
“These cakes were fed to infants,” said Ruffledeen. “We have also given many to expectant mothers, but I think the results have been negative.”
This was frequently Ruffledeen’s comment, or that of the scientist. They could not hope for success with the great majority of their feeding experiments. For one or two successful experiments, dozens or hundreds might end in failure. But the one or two might prove a boon to the whole population.
Uncle Keller ceased to snore and began to stir.
“Shall we give him another round?” asked Ruffledeen.
“A warm drink first, then more questions,” said the scientist.
Uncle Keller was not in the best mood. He had been subjected to endless questioning since his recent encounter with the poison apple.
“I ain’t slept a wink,” he complained.
“I will bake a cake to help you sleep soon,” said Ruffledeen. “But first, Axotello wishes you to remember some more of the foods you eat on the Earth.”
“Yes,” said the scientist, “Go on with your list, please.”
“What did I end with?” said Uncle Keller.
“You named thirteen kinds of pies, including apple pies. You stated that you have eaten no blue apples before you came here, but that red apples are common and yellow apples are not unknown. This statement may be the key to our problem. Were your yellow apples anything like our poison apples? Maybe you have grown up with a resistance to poison.”
Uncle Keller shook his head. There was more difference than he could explain. On the Earth anyone would be a fool to call a yellow apple poison.
When Axotello tried to pin him down to the probable differences in chemical content, Uncle lost his temper.
“Stop it! I don’t like scientific words. How do I know but what you’re callin’ me names behind my back?”
The scientist smiled and told him to go back to bed and finish his night’s sleep. This Uncle Keller gladly did.
“The next logical move, Ruffledeen,” said the scientist, pacing back and forth in front of the fire, “is to experiment with the other Earth man.”
“How?” Ruffledeen asked.
“We will break a poison apple over him,” said Axotello. “If he does not become naggie-mad, we will know that Earth man’s diet holds the secret.”
Ruffledeen produced a poison apple from his stores and sat by the fire polishing it.
“And suppose,” said Ruffledeen, “that the other Earth man does go naggie-mad?”
“Then he will simply become one of our unsuccessful experiments. Too bad, of course. He is an alert young man. I have high hopes that he will be immune—”
“Someone is coming over the hill,” said Ruffledeen.
In the early morning twilight they saw the silhouettes of the two running figures, several yards apart. “Donna!” the scientist exclaimed. “She is running from someone. Quick, my gun! Guards, where are you?”
The camp came to life almost before the echo of Axloff’s voice had faded. Wet branches were falling from the trees along the ridge, being shot down by a disintegration ray gun in Donna’s hand. Her pursuer was hurdling these barriers like a deer.
“It is Joe!” Axloff cried, running up to join his father. “Joe! Donna! What is happening?”
It was Donna who cried, “Don’t shoot him, Axloff. Only catch him and tie him. He is crazy from a poison apple.”
CHAPTER XXIII
Joe heard the commotion in camp.
He shrieked with laughter to hear them say he was naggie-crazy. He already knew it. He had known it since yesterday. Were they just now finding it out?
So they meant to catch him and tie him, did they?
“Bring your stoutest chains, Axloff!” Joe shouted, “No rope will hold me!”
The confusion from the camp annoyed him, so he leaped a high thicket and cut a course in front of Donna. She was forced to run in another direction. The camp was left behind.
On the third hill beyond camp he overtook her.
“Whew! You run too fast!” he said, with a laugh that was almost a bray. “I can keep up with your ship as long as it jumps like a frog, but I can’t keep up with you. You don’t have to point that gun at me, Donna. I already love you. I’m going to marry you as soon as I remove your horns . . . Here, stand right up against this tree. It will only take a minute.”
Joe, please! Please let me go! You don’t know what you’re doing. You’re out of your head . . . Oh, why did I not shoot you?”
“ ‘Cause I’m too good looking,” said Joe. He guffawed. “If you want me shot, let me do the dirty work.”
He tossed her gun over his shoulder. His hand flashed back, tearing a strip from his water-soaked shirt. He bound her hands behind the tree.
He bound her feet with a twisted piece of his sleeve. With the remainder of the shirt he made a band around the trunk above her head to include her three head-horns, tying them back securely.
“You don’t happen to have a saw, do you, madam?” he said, smiling happily. He wiped the sweat from his eyes.
From his trouser pocket he brought forth a sturdy pocket knife.
Donna was eyeing him steadily. “Listen to me, Joe. Do you know that I am trying to save your life? Do you understand that?”
“Remind me to give you a quarter,” said Joe. He whetted the knife on the palm of his hand. “Plain or fancy, madam?”
“Joe, you are naggie-crazy. By all the rules, I should have killed you. But I thought I could exhaust you, making you follow along with the ship. You’ll die in a few hours, Joe, at the rate you’re burning up your life. If you could, only control yourself—make yourself rest—give Axotello a chance to help you. By now he may know why Uncle Keller didn’t go crazy. Please, Joe, listen to me.”
“You’re trying to stop my fun. I want to cut your horns off.”
“Kiss me, Joe,” she said desperately. She was at the end of her wits. “Kiss me, Joe!”
“Ha, ha, ha! So you want to play games. One kiss for each horn I remove. Here we go.”
He began to wield the knife. He muttered that the handle was too sharp and the blade was too dull, and he had just as well turn it end for end. So he did. He tapped her horns with the handle and gripped the blade until he noticed blood was dripping from his hand.
“Darned knife’s no good,” he said. “Hold it for me while I go get a saw.”
“All right,” said Donna. “The scientist has a saw among his tools. I will!”
He placed the open knife in her bound hands. Then he scampered away, bounding like a deer.
They caught him at noon.
It took the whole camp to do it, and as matters turned out, Ruffledeen became the key man. It was one of his sleepcakes, more than the pit-fall trap, that turned the trick.
But almost everyone helped, and the suggestions by Uncle Keller were invaluable.
“Let Donna act as a decoy,” Uncle insisted. “Set a bear trap in the path, and cover it over. Then put Donna on the other side of it.”
“I am afraid,” said Axloff, “that he will pay no attention to Donna, being crazy.”
“He’s not that crazy,” said Uncle Keller.
Donna had freed herself and hurried back to camp, and was urging Axotello to do something.
Joe could be heard carrying on his mad antics beyond the hill. He had forgotten about Donna’s horns and was now engaged in a fight with her space ship, beating its metal nose with a timber.
“He can
not hurt anything,” Axotello said. “As long as he is bumping around up there we can work on a trap. But if he starts back to the village we must overtake him, or they will slay him.”
The scientist’s swift workers grabbed their spades, ran to the appointed spot, and made the loose dirt fly. Everyone helped, and they soon had a deep pitfall in the path. Uncle Keller marveled. On the Earth such a task would have taken all day.
Ruffledeen, who had hastened to make a triple-potency sleep-cake, came trudging up the grade to see what the “bear-trap” looked like. By this time it was covered, and looked like a part of the path, surrounded by a wide scattering of fresh earth.
The chef got down on his hands and knees to convince himself that there was a covered pit. Someone shouted at him to come away.
Then Axloff yelled, “Quiet! Here they come!”
The mad chase came over the hill, Donna well in the lead. She had attracted Joe’s attention, according to plan, and was running straight down the path toward the camp. Joe was gaining on her, shouting again that he wanted her horns.
She leaped over the pitfall, slackened her pace, looked back to see what would happen.
Joe came on. Ruffledeen drew back out of his way. But Joe didn’t fall through.
Instead, he stopped on the path within three feet of the hidden spot. His mad merry glance took in the scattered dirt. Then he gave Ruffledeen a push. Ruffledeen went down in a shower of dirt.
Joe enjoyed this effect. It was interesting to see the chef surprised and hear him yell for help. Joe sat down and dangled his feet over the edge of the pit and watched the show.
No one else seemed to be around. Actually, the others were watching anxiously from concealment, wondering what the mad man would do next.
He was in the mood to rest, so he sat there, calling down to the imprisoned chef. He had always been attracted by Ruffledeen’s wavy purple whiskers.
“You should eat more of my cakes and you might have purple whiskers,” said Ruffledeen. “I have one cake down here. Will you come down and join me?”
“Why don’t you run back to camp and bake some more,” said Joe, “and we’ll have a party.”
“But I am down here,” said the chef.
“Let me take your place till you come back.”
Joe leaped down. After a superhuman struggle, he managed to get Ruffledeen out. Then he ate the one cake while he waited.
He never knew how long he waited, because he went to sleep. When he awakened, he was bound so tightly to a tree he could hardly breath.
CHAPTER XXIV
“Bow! Bow-wow!” He yelled. “Bowwow-wowrr!”
Uncle Keller and Donna emerged from a camp shelter and sauntered toward him.
“Poor guy,” said Uncle. “I doubt if he’ll ever come out of it.”
“Bow-wow!” said Joe.
“He must think he’s a naggie or somethin” said Uncle Keller.
“I’m the bark of this tree!” Joe yelled at them. Then he laughed a choked laugh under the handicap of his bonds. “So you don’t like the bark of this tree? Well, I refuse to be the sap. Cut me loose from here.”
“Take it easy, Joe.”
“Cut me loose. I have an important engagement.”
“You are right, Joe,” said Donna. “The scientist will come here to see you this afternoon. He wishes to try certain foods—”
“I have a singing engagement,” said Joe. “Ladies and gentlemen—and Uncle Jim Keller, please take your seats for the concert. The guest star of our afternoon program is none other than the renowned tenor, Joe Banker, of Bellrap, U.S.A. Applause, please . . . Thank you.”
Joe sang for two hours. His concert rambled from popular songs to classics and opera, and ended with the Star Spangled Banner.
Almost everyone in camp gathered around to listen.
He sang some quartet numbers, firs announcing that, unfortunately, the other three members of the quartet could not be present. On one of these songs Uncle Keller found himself growing sentimental. The old Earth times seemed so far away and, long ago. But when Uncle chimed in on a strain of the Old Oaken Bucket, the concert came to a dead stop, and Joe said, “someone drop an apple on the bald-headed row and stop that snoring!”
The scientist decided to wait until Joe calmed down before trying to plan his diet. Donna urged the listeners from the camp to go back to their work.
“We will leave you now, Joe,” she said “I will see you after you have rested. Uncle Keller will stay with you.
So Joe concluded his concert with the Star Spangled Banner, and to his satisfaction everyone stood attentively, not because they knew it was proper, but because the song thrilled them.
Soon Joe was alone with Uncle Keller.
“Ropes hurt you much, Joe?”
“Ropes insult me,” said Joe. “I told them nothing but chains would hold me. I could break these ropes if I wanted to.”
“Relax, Joe.”
“Don’t you believe it? I’ll break them just to show you. Watch me.”
“Relax! Relax! You’ll skin yourself alive.”
“Relax!” Joe mocked. “If you were full of fire like I am, you’d uproot this tree, and turn it into a battle-ram, and bust up the camp—Say, that’s an idea!”
Joe strained his muscles against his bonds.
“If I was you,” Uncle Keller began.
Then he shook his head, and mumbled, “Naw, you wouldn’t listen.”
He settled down against the foot of a tree and refused to look at Joe. He puffed calmly at his pipe.
“If you were me—what?” Joe was curious.
“I’d light a pipe an’ have a good smoke and quiet my nerves.”
“Give me your pipe,” said Joe.
Uncle Keller rose slowly. “This naggie-wool makes a right good smoke,” he said. “I reckon I can spare you a puff.”
He put the pipe between Joe’s teeth, and Joe smoked.
“It’s awful,” Joe said. “I don’t see how you endure it . . . Wait, not so fast. I didn’t say I was through. Let me finish this pipeful.”
When he finished, he said, “I’ll be honest about it, Uncle Keller. That wasn’t bad. Fill’er up again.”
He smoked another pipeful, and another. Uncle Keller watched him suspiciously.
“I like it,” said Joe. “It’s good medicine.”
Uncle Keller, tapping the pipe, paused to look Joe in the eye.
“You like it, huh? Maybe you ain’t so crazy as I thought.”
“I’m not crazy at all,” said Joe.
“Son, you’re as loony as a Rea-bit flea.”
“Not any more. I’m well.”
“Since when?”
“Since I smoked that naggie wool.”
CHAPTER XXV
Uncle Keller thought he would have to swing his fists at two of the camp guards before they would agree to let him interrupt. The scientist and Ruffledeen were working up a new cake recipe.
Finally, Uncle Keller succeeded in breaking in on the scientist’s study, although he was almost too angry to talk. Fortunately, the scientist could understand his brand of English. But the news Uncle announced struck with a shock.
“How do you know he is cured?”
“Because he talks horse-sense, the same as me,” said Uncle. “No baloney.”
“What does he say?”
“Well, first he said that naggie-wool makes good smokin’—and that’s as wise a statement as anyone could make. I don’t figure a judge could improve on that.”
“Go on.”
“Well, next he began rememberin’ things, hopin’ he didn’t do too much damage while he was off his nut.”
“That is good,” said the scientist. “What else?”
“Right away he was all hot and bothered for fear he’d chopped off Donna’s horns. He was in a stew for me to send her around so he could be sure he hadn’t—”
“Did you?”
“He said he’d go crazy if he didn’t see her right away—an
d I didn’t want that to happen so—”
Donna and Joe appeared, silhouetted on the hilltop, coming down the trail arm in arm. Five minutes later Joe and Ruffledeen were joking over the tea party that they didn’t have down in the bear trap. Fifteen minutes later, Joe’s cuts and bruises were being treated. The guards prepared a bed for him and he was made to lie down and rest.
He fell asleep slowly. His overtaxed muscles and nerves gradually relaxed. He could hear the excited discussions over the merits of smoking naggie wool. He listened until he heard the scientist declare that Uncle Keller was the hero of the hour for his wonderful discovery.
“You have done what we scientists with all our formulas failed to do,” said Axotello.
Uncle Keller said modestly, “It was a pleasure. I like to share my smokin’.”
And Joe, smiling, fell asleep.
Later, he learned that Axotello’s studies had found a scientific justification for the miraculous cure. The potent poison of orange-colored apples penetrated through the skin of any man. But not through the wool of the naggie. (That beast was affected only when he ate some of the poison.)
Naggie wool was found to possess marvelous properties of poison resistance.
Two days later, a multitude, of horned Martians, gathered at the edge of a village between the cliff and the river.
Uncle Keller and Joe went by taxi—the most exclusive taxi in the land—Donna Londeen’s space ship. For by now the rumors had traveled far and wide that she was a flier of ships. She could no longer keep it a secret.
“Joe and I will just stay in the ship while you attend the meetings,” said Uncle.
Donna laughed. “Since when have Bellrap citizens become so bashful. This may be your chance to ‘Ring the Bell for Bellrap.’ The people will want to see you.”
“How well I remember,” said Uncle Keller. “They want to make mince meat out of us for a lot of horn thievin’ that Mercury bird got away with.”
“Or did he get away with it?” Joe asked. Flashes of memory from his siege of madness kept tantalizing him. “It seems to me I combed someone’s hair with that ray gun when I first went wild. I can’t quite remember who.”
