weariness and pain, when there came
spindling along an old sallow-hued Earth-mulgar, whose eyes were pink,
rather than glass-grey, like the others. He shook his head this way,
that way, muttering his magic over Nod; then, with a mottled gourd
beside him, he very gently and dexterously rolled back the strip or
bandage of leaves on Nod's shoulder, and peered close into his poisoned
wound. He probed it softly with his hairless fingers. Then out of the
pouch hanging on his stomach he took fresh leaves, smeared and stalked,
a little clay pot of green healing-grease, and anointed the sore. This
he rubbed ever so smoothly with his two middle fingers. After which he
bound all up again so skilfully with leaves and grass that it seemed to
Nod his wounded shoulder was the easiest and most comfortable part of
his body. Out of his pinkish eyes he gazed greedily into Nod's face for
a moment, and took his departure.

After he had gone, Nod smoothed his face, and with his own comb combed
himself as far as he could reach without pain. Presently shuffled along
two or three more of the Mouse-faces carrying roasted Nanoes and
Mambel-berries, and a kind of citron, like a Keeri, very refreshing;
also a little gourd of very thin Subbub. But, although he was too
wretched and too much afraid to be hungry, and shuddered at sight of the
Minimul food, Nod knew he must quickly grow strong if ever he and his
brothers were to reach the Valleys of Tishnar. So he ate and drank, and
was refreshed. Then he turned to a little sleek Minimul that tended him,
and asked him in Munza-mulgar: "Is it day--sunshine? Is it day?"

The little creature shook his head and shut his eyes, as if to signify
he did not understand the question.

Nod at that shut his eyes too, and laid his cheek on his lean little
hand, as if to say, "Sleep."

Thereupon eight thickish Minimuls came--four on either side--and hoisted
up by its handles the grass mat on which he lay, while others went
before, strewing dried leaves and a kind of forest-flower that smells
like mint when crushed, and carrying lanterns of candle-worms, while
others waddled with them, beating on little tambours of Skeeto-skin--all
this because Nod breathed magic, part his own, part his Wonderstone's.

They laid him down in a sandy chamber strewn with flowers. And, bowing
many times, their heads betwixt their rather bandy legs, they left him.
When they were gone, Nod wriggled softly up and looked about him. The
c