ral furry jackets, which the men had left in it, and in the
bottom, near the stern, a cubical metal box which lighted up like an
electric radiator. By this they had dried and warmed themselves, and now,
each with a fur jacket on, they felt thoroughly comfortable.

Mercer was elated at what they had accomplished. He could see now how
fortunate a circumstance it was that we had set the men free. He would not
have stumbled upon this other party, and the invasion of the Light Country
would have begun, had we not released them.

He talked enthusiastically about what we were to do next, and Anina
listened, saying very little, but following his words with eager
attention. Once he thought she was more interested in the words themselves
than in what he was saying, and said so.

"Your language--so very easy it is. I want to learn it soon if I can."

"Why, you know it already," he protested. "And how the deuce you ever got
it so quickly beats me."

She smiled.

"When you say words--very easy then for me to remember. Not many words in
spoken language."

He shook his head.

"Well, however you do it, the result's all right. I'm mighty glad, too.
Why, when I get you back home on earth--" He stopped in sudden confusion.

She put her hand on his arm.

"Miela says your earth is very wonderful. Tell me about it."

She listened to his glowing words. "And opera--what is that?" she asked
once when he paused.

He described the Metropolitan Opera House, and the newer, finer one in
Boston. She listened to his description of the music with flushed face and
shining eyes.

"How beautiful--that music! Can _you_ sing, Ollie?"

"No," he admitted, "but I can play a little on a guitar. I wish I had one
here."

"I can sing," said the girl: "Miela says I can sing very well."

He leaned toward her, brushing the blue feathers of her wing lightly with
his hand.

"Sing for me," he said softly. "I'll bet you sing beautifully."

It may have been their situation, or what they had been through together,
or the girl's nearness to him now with her long braids of golden hair, the
graceful sweep of her blue-feathered wings that matched the blue of her
eyes, her red lips parted in song--but whatever it was, Mercer thought he
had never heard so sweet a voice. She sang a weird little song. It was in
a minor key, with curious cadences that died away and ended nowhere--the
folk song of a different race, a different planet, yet vibrant with the
ever