Part 3

The temperature on this world was ideal. It stayed perpetually between seventy and eighty-five, hardly ever varying above or below these figures as rated on the Fahrenheit scale. Therefore there was no necessity of window panes to keep out the cold. Even without a door there was infinitely more privacy in these apartments than any man had ever known on Earth. The golden men never entered without first telepathizing their intentions in advance. Nor did anyone ever gaze into another's apartment or home. These people strictly maintained the ideal that a man's home is his castle.

His mind was surging with many thoughts. These Griffs, if he remembered correctly, though fiercely armed, had showed definite evidences of cowardice. He remembered the way they squealed when hurt. Their furious attempts to escape when soundly beaten. There was a possibility they could be trained. By force, if need be, but surely it would not hurt to try.

Then, too, those strange blossoms that acted as an anesthetic upon the golden people--perhaps they might act similarly upon the Griffs? It was a theory worth investigating.

The next morning he left the city, a long coil of hemplike rope around his arm. He found a group of the flowers he was looking for after a brief search, and quickly snapped a number of the largest blossoms at the stems. Their odor lent charm to the beauty of the scenery he passed. It struck him that these flowers were the very personification of the adage "one man's meat is another man's poison."

As though they knew he was searching for them, the Griffs seemed to elude him. The day wore on and the sun began to set and still he had found no Griffs. He began to wonder if the people of the golden city would be worried as to his whereabouts.

But as the long fingers of evening began to stretch gray paths across the sky, he was startled out of his thoughts by a fierce squealing. He turned rapidly, and there, emerging from an almost unnoticed cavelike formation was a red-eyed Griff, its teeth gnashing angrily.

Quickly Drawers formed the rope into a lasso. He gave it a few quick turns around his head and let fly at the Griff. The noose settled around the charging animal's neck. With a flick of his wrist Drawers tightened the noose, then, utilizing all of his strength, pulled the rope with a jerk to the right. The Griff choked and stumbled momentarily. In a twinkling of an eye Drawers was drowning the beast with the blossoms from the flowers he was carrying. The animal began to cough. It made an attempt to rise, and then settled back. It was panting now. Now its eyelids were closing and its breathing becoming harder and harder.

Drawers kicked the creature in the ribs. It did not respond.

Drawers removed the blossoms from the animal's nostrils. Then he took his rope and securely tied up its great jaws. With the happy whistle of a boy released from school, he made his way back to the city of Saeve, dragging the great beast behind him.

He almost laughed aloud as he saw the perplexity of the guards at the gate of the wall. They seemed uncertain whether to run as fast as they could or maintain their posts in shivering fright. At all costs they refused to allow Drawers to drag the beast into the city.

After some persuasion Drawers got them to contact Persum and arrange to have a wagon delivered outside the city.

During the interim the Griff began to revive. Finally it staggered weakly to its feet, a sick look in its eyes. At the sight of Drawers it bristled menacingly.

Drawers nonchalantly gave the animal a powerful kick in the ribs that sent it crashing to the ground.

It gained its feet again, and fumed with rage at its inability to use its well-tied jaws.

But Drawers did not let this bit of temperament deter him. He whacked the creature across the back with his fist. It sank to the ground again. A look of fear began to enter its eyes.

Within the next fifteen minutes Michel Drawers gave the animal the beating of his life. When he was through he untied the fastenings from around the creature's jaws, and waited, his fist held menacingly. The golden guards watching from the gate were stricken by the tenseness of the situation. For a moment the Griff looked at Drawers--_then it cringed before him!_

During the next week, thousands crammed the streets to watch a fierce-looking Griff, generation-old enemy of their race, proceeding docilely along the streets of the city, pulling enormous quantities of stone and other supplies with no sign of rebellion. Its once terrible teeth had been blunted and replaced by flat-headed golden caps. A little golden man sat unafraid upon its back directing it with deft prods of his feet. Man had again displayed his superiority over other forms of life.

Everywhere Michel Drawers went he was hailed with enthusiasm by the golden people. They gave elaborate balls in his honor--and watched with fascination as he disposed of helping after helping of the multiple types of tasty vegetables and exotic-flavored fruits which formed the bulk of their diet.

But in all truth Michel Drawers paid much more attention to the fascinating little golden woman who seemed perpetually at his side. "Trajores," she said was her name. And he escorted her proudly to the numerous balls and dinners; performed her every whim with celerity.

He remembered the look of joy on her face when he presented her with a simple bracelet, inset with colorful crystals that he had shaped for her with his own hands out of the malleable gold that could be found in such abundance.

He remembered, too, how all the other women crowded about her, examining the new creation, the first of its type in the city of Saeve, and how the next day, hammers rang merrily as self-appointed goldsmiths catered to the whims of the eternal feminine and its desire to emulate any new style or fashion.

Thus, unwittingly, Drawers had made Trajores the first stylist in the world of the golden people. And it pleased him to watch her thrill with pride as she watched the other women, and even some of the men, imitate the first necklace he had made for her, out of a few colored crystals and a wirelike string of gold.

He took advantage of every opportunity to be near her, accompanying her on long walks through the forest when the sun was high in the sky; satisfying her curiosity as to the manners and ways of life on Earth.

He enjoyed those hours in her presence and was thankful for the opportunity--but his long unfamiliarity with women often caused him to ask Persum to accompany him, and the three would stride merrily through the forest, exchanging views on various subjects.

To his astonishment, Michel Drawers awoke one day to find that a faint but undeniable glow came from his body. The strange gas in the atmosphere was beginning to affect the radiations of his body, too! Other unusual incidents lately had been the sudden regrowth of teeth long since pulled, the disappearance of several warts from his fingers. The gas, whatever it was, had beneficial effects.

But he did not comprehend the full effect of his change until one day while walking with Persum and Trajores he sensed Trajores thinking. "Were there any other girls that you left on Earth before you came here?"

"No," he replied. "I'm afraid that I never was very popular with the ladies."

A look of amazement crossed Trajores' features.

"_You read my thoughts!_" she accused. "I had not directed the question mentally toward you!"

Then she turned and ran back toward the city.

Michel Drawers gazed after her in perplexity, then turned with a puzzled frown to Persum.

Persum shook his head in the manner of a man who thinks, "Well, here's something else that's got to be attended to."

"It is against our custom to attempt to read the thoughts of another person," he explained. "If we did, no one would have any privacy. But I will explain to Trajores your ignorance of our laws and extend an apology by proxy. I'm sure she will forgive you. She was momentarily embarrassed. Her thoughts were of a somewhat personal nature."

But Michel Drawers hardly listened. It was incredible but true that in some manner the golden emanations that now radiated from his body enabled his mind to read thoughts!

As the days progressed, Michel Drawers became more and more impressed by the utopian way in which this society of golden people was maintained. No man was assigned any work. It was up to the individual to make himself as useful as he possibly could whenever his services were required. His leisure time was left to himself.

Drawers had seen how these golden people had volunteered for heavy physical labor even before his introduction of the labor-saving pulley wheel, wagon and beast of burden, and the manner in which they had performed, without complaining, this toilsome labor. He had seen how other men were willing to spend hours over hot forges shaping trinkets for the gratification of any women who happened to ask for them.

These people seemed to sense when their services were required and were always willing to do what was desired.

The women seemed willing to perform almost any of the regular household duties of cooking, sweeping, remodeling and washing at any time. It seemed to make little difference if they had to assume the extra burden of cooking and washing and cleaning for any of the golden men who were still unmarried or were so unfortunate as to have suffered the loss of their mates. They performed these tasks cheerfully, as their contribution to the welfare of the community.

All essentials were provided free, as were available luxuries. All worked under an eminently successful cooperative plan that did away with all of the ills of complicated economic systems.

The Raciv was really nothing more than a coordinator of the various scientists and constructors, helping to lay out the plans for the proper performance of their experiments and buildings, coping with any problem that might arise.

This race had many bewildering aspects. Drawers had listened, only half comprehending, to their learned men outline a gigantic theory of the universe and its reason for being, a theory that seemed flawlessly logical to his untrained mind. He had watched the golden men take over the manufacture of wheels, wagons, pulleys and trinkets he had introduced and improve upon them at a great rate. He had seen daring members of this delicate golden race emulate his action in capturing a Griff with astounding preciseness. Their adaptability, their gift of learning and improving upon new ideas seemed infinite. But their inability to grasp and utilize the simplest ideas on their own initiative was confounding. There was some quality lacking in their make-up that seemed to prohibit this. Why this was so he did not know. Perhaps it was the result of thousands of centuries of living easily in the forests, working and creating in the mind alone, that, through the ages had made the creative urge in them dormant. It was the only logical explanation to be found.

But once set upon the proper path that long dead ability might, by degrees, begin to restore itself, and then there would be no limit to the greatness this simple civilization might attain.

He had gotten probably his greatest kick in introducing amusements for the children. For two weeks he had labored, with several of the golden men assigned to him, in one of the larger working rooms in the city. By the end of that time he had constructed the very first Merry-Go-Round this world had ever known!

It was crude compared to what the amusement parks now had on Earth, but to these people it was an object of fabulous wonder.

He had simply constructed a large wheel, attached a few hand supports to it and mounted it on one of the wagons. The Merry-Go-Round was turned by a crude but effective crank, and this unique, whirling, breathless motion proved a source of infinite delight to the children of the city. The Merry-Go-Round was constantly on the go, and dozens of golden men crowded about, examining its manufacture, and returning home and plotting their own.

The most unusual aspect of this innovation was that the older people took to it as well as did the youngsters. The Merry-Go-Round and later the swing became a regular household addition.

These simple pleasure devices became the national amusements. It was becoming a common thing to have an open square one day, and the next find it clogged with a vast array of swings and Merry-Go-Rounds, with the golden people, young and old, partaking wholeheartedly in this new pleasure.

If it had been left to the children to judge, these new amusements were the finest things he had introduced so far; and Michel Drawers could not help realizing how limited these people's pleasures had been in the past.

It was a great day, too, when he escorted the Raciv and several of the more important men of state back to the "Star-Struck." They entered the ship and the lock closed behind them. Then with a blast of rockets the ship had rifled its way through the clouds.

The Raciv and his officials had gazed in wonder through the ports as the ship rose thousands of feet into the air. Strangely enough they displayed no visible signs of fear (possibly the fact that there was little danger in falling on this world obviated that fear) but nevertheless the novelty of the experience did not escape them.

One of the little men directed his course. They were riding a wave of telepathic radiations, as spaceships follow a radio beam into port. And the occasion was destined to be a memorable one--one of great consequence. _For the first time in centuries the peoples of two cities were to meet one another!_

Contact between the cities had always been maintained thanks to the development of long range telepathy. Thus they were similar in culture, development and habits, but inter-city relations had been impossible due to the long distance between cities and the dread danger of being devoured by Griffs en route.

It was soul-inspiring to witness the embraces, the thoughts of tearful thankfulness, as the golden people saw their first opportunity in hundreds of years to be reunited in fact as well as spirit.

The second city's greatest sculptor, the finest the city of Malopa had ever known, fashioned a golden image of Michel Drawers, which was placed in one of the largest squares. The ensuing weeks were ones of great celebration.

Drawers would never forget the looks on the faces of the returning party as they rocketed back to Saeve. He knew they would never forget what he had done for them; that they envisaged a greater world of tomorrow, where the seven cities were united in a common bond of understanding and continued progress.

Even the original object of his voyage, the obtaining of Roxite, was consummated. One morning, accompanied by many of the nation's leading scientists, he strode to his star-ship, patted it affectionately and then withdrew the great atom blaster. A few minutes of calculating with the Roxitometer and he located the exact position of the deposit of Roxite.

The little people watched in awe as he held the powerful blast firmly in his two capable hands and guided its probings down into the bowels of the planet. After many hours of prodigious labor he had drawn enough Roxite from the cavity to sustain him comfortably for the rest of his natural life back on Earth.

He thought often of Earth now. For though this planet was very beautiful, a peculiar sort of a homesickness plagued him, and he longed more and more to return and view again the world of his birth.

He was strolling through one of the gorgeous forest paths with Trajores one day when the urge to confide in her finally beat down his barrier of timidity. He stopped her with a touch of his hand and told her.

"I have been very happy here with your people."

"I am so glad," she replied mentally.

That made what he wanted to say extremely difficult. His throat suddenly congested, though he knew that it was only a nervous muscular reaction.

"Trajores," he said, gruffly, sadly, "I've been thinking of returning to my own planet, Earth. I have enough Roxite to insure a reasonable status of existence. I wish I might stay longer...."

Trajores stood immobile. She seemed to be thinking. Strangely enough a queer battle of emotions mirrored itself in her delicate features. Drawers felt vaguely uncomfortable alone with her. He wondered where Persum had wandered to. He had started out, as usual, with them, but somehow had drifted away, leaving him alone with Trajores.

"Michel Drawers," came an urgent thought.

Drawers riveted his attention upon the radiant woman.

"I wish you would stay here with me always. I know you would be very happy. I, I," two great golden tears rolled down her well-molded cheeks, and impulsively she flung herself into his big arms, and for the first time since his arrival he heard one of these little people give vent to a sound. It was a sob--and it came from Trajores.

Drawers stood puzzled. Instinctively he scratched his rough skull.

"Why. Why?" seemed all he could say.

"Why, you fool," came a probing voice, "don't you realize she loves you!"

Persum was standing a few feet away, his features rigid in stern sincerity.

"Love, me? Me, Michel Drawers? Why, I am not handsome. I am ugly. I am not beautiful like your race. I am big and rough and hairy. How can she love a man like me? I could not even communicate by mental telepathy before I came here. I am just a man from another civilization, away because there was no place for me. How can she love me?"

There was mute appeal in Drawers' voice. He didn't know that he was crying like a child. He didn't know that he had unconsciously fallen to his knees. He didn't know anything except that Persum had said that this beautiful, adorable, heavenly little creature loved him. Him, Michel Drawers, a big, clumsy oaf, without even a proper knowledge of manners or psychology.

And as from the distance--clear as a bell--lovely as the strummings of a harpsichord it came to him.

"Michel Drawers, I love you for what you are. For your innate goodness of soul. For your humble deserving modesty. For your mighty strength. I love you for your bigness, for your naturalness and for something else--some indefinable spark that has made our lives as one, that has caused you to search me out across the inconceivable immensity of a thousand universes. That is all I know, and one other thing. I can never leave you. If you go, I go with you."

If you can imagine the emotions of a man unjustly sentenced and finally released from prison after six years of hell; if you can imagine what it would mean to have each of your faults become instead an additional virtue. If you can imagine the joy of having all of your fondest dreams come true--then, and only then, may you comprehend for one fleeting instant, the pounding chaos, the indescribable joy, the interminable relief that permeated Michel Drawers' being at that moment.

Those two hairy arms that had pounded the most savage and horrible beasts this world had ever known into bleeding pulp slipped tenderly, reverently about the exquisite form of Trajores. And as Persum slipped discreetly away, lips closed upon lips in the manner of lovers immemorial. And the gods of fate laughed at the importance two nothings in the mighty scheme of things attached to an equally undefinable nothing called love.

Now Michel Drawers lived in perpetual delirium. A delirium of unreasoning delight. He readied his "Star-Struck" for a voyage into space and a renewal of his search to find the way back--the way back with everything worthwhile to take with him.

And he barely acknowledged the farewells of a fine people, so intense was his desire to leave.

There was a sort of solemn rigidity in their farewell attitude. A brooding, soft, strange sorrow, and they seemed to wonder, too, to wish as well, thoughts they dared not express. To see their great dream for the reuniting of the cities come crashing down; to view their momentary gains as a hollow mockery in the years to come.

All this Michel Drawers did not notice. He waved one big arm and with the other pulled back the starting lever. His great frame pressed back in agony at the terrible acceleration of the takeoff. And then he was free--free again of binding gravitation; free to search the space-ways with the woman he loved beside him; free to return to a world that had discarded him, to be again a respected citizen.

And then he saw Trajores, her lovely form inert, a trickle of golden blood issuing from her mouth, and he was overcome with remorse at his own thoughtlessness. With fear and trepidation he raised her head and pressed a vial of revivifying liquid to her lips. She sighed softly and mustered a feeble smile.

"It is all right," she appeared to murmur. "Go on."

Michel Drawers stepped back to the controls. There was an air of resolute determination about him. His enormous fingers manipulated the proper switches with unbelievable skill and speed. The petite little "Star-Struck" swerved on her course and turned in a semicircle that encompassed millions of miles.

Michel Drawers' mind was comprehending things he had never fully realized before. Trajores must never be taken to Earth. She must be returned to her own world with its kinder gravitation and its lovable golden people. To take her to Earth would be to doom her to a life of indescribable suffering.

And, too, what would he be on Earth? They would grant him permission to marry, to settle down and live his life a useless cog in society, simply because he had been fortunate enough to return with a large supply of the precious Roxite, not because of what he, himself, was or had been.

But with the golden people he was not simply a useless hulk of a man. He was Michel Drawers, the man who had introduced the most startling innovations the golden people had known in thousands of years! A man who could hold his head high and look another person squarely in the face. The only man who might rid the planet of the dread Griffs and restore a beleaguered people to their rightful heritage.

Back in the golden city of Saeve no thought of his mental inferiority was entertained. All treated him with respect. It was a world where for the first time in his life he had found some measure of happiness, and possibly there might also be contentment.

The shimmering world began to take form beneath them.

Trajores moved and thought, "Michel, that is not the way back."

And Michel Drawers smiled within himself and answered joyously.

"Yes, Trajores, that _is_ the way back--the only way for you and me."