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dangerous with strangers, but some odd restraint - perhaps the effect
of that enervating gravitational field - kept him from speaking in time.
Then he saw that he need not bother.
Baldur had ceased his low whimpering, had raised his head, and was licking
Gramps Schneider's chin. His tail thumped cheerfully. Waldo felt a sudden
tug of jealousy; the dog had never been known to accept a stranger without
Waldo's specific injunction. This was disloyalty - treason! But he
suppressed the twinge and coolly assessed the incident as a tactical
advantage to him.
Schneider pushed the dog's face out of the way and went over him thoroughly,
prodding, thumping, extending his limbs. He grasped Baldur's muzzle, pushed
back his lips, and eyed his gums. He peeled back the dog's eyelids. He then
dropped the matter and came to Waldo's side. 'The dog is not sick,' he said;
'his mind confuses. What made it?'
Waldo told him about Baldur's unusual background. Schneider nodded acceptance
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of the matter - Waldo could not tell whether he had understood or not - and
turned his attention to Waldo. 'It is not good for a sprottly lad to lie abed.
The weakness - how long has it had you?'
'All my life, Grandfather.'
'That is not good.' Schneider went over him as he had gone over Baldur.
Waldo, whose feeling for personal privacy was much more intense than that of
the ordinarily sensitive man, endured it for pragmatic reasons. It was going
to be necessary, he felt, to wheedle and cajole this strange old creature.
It would not do to antagonize him.
To divert his own attention from the indignity he chose to submit to, and
to gain further knowledge of the old quack, Waldo let his eyes rove the room.
The room where they were seemed to be a combination kitchen-living room.
It was quite crowded, rather narrow, but fairly long. A fireplace dominated
the kitchen end, but it had been bricked up, and a hole for the flue pipe of
the base-burner had been let into the chimney. The fireplace was lopsided,
as an oven had been included in its left side. The corresponding space at the
right was occupied by a short counter which supported a tiny sink. The sink
was supplied with water by a small hand pump which grew out of the counter.
Schneider, Waldo decided, was either older than he looked, which seemed
incredible, or he had acquired his house from someone now long dead.
The living room end was littered and crowded in the fashion which is simply
unavoidable in constricted quarters. Books filled several cases, were piled
on the floor, hung precariously on chairs. An ancient wooden desk, crowded
with papers and supporting a long-obsolete mechanical typewriter, filled
one corner. Over it, suspended from the wall, was an ornate clock, carved
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somewhat like a house. Above its face were two little doors; while Waldo
looked at it, a tiny wooden bird painted bright red popped out of the
left-hand door, whistled 'Th-wu th-woo!' four times, and popped frantically
back into its hole. Immediately thereafter a little grey bird came out of
the right-hand door, said 'Cuckoo' three times in a leisurely manner, and
returned to its hole.
Waldo decided that he would like to own such a clock; of course its
pendulum-and-weight movement would not function in Freehold, but he
could easily devise a one-g centrifuge frame to enclose it, wherein it
would have a pseudo Earth-surface environment.
It did not occur to him to fake a pendulum movement by means of a
concealed power source; he liked things to work properly.
To the left of the clock was an old-fashioned static calendar of paper.
The date was obscured, but the letters above the calendar proper were
large and legible: New York World's Fair - Souvenir of the World of
Tomorrow. Waldo's eyes widened a little and went back to something he
had noticed before, sticking into a pincushion on the edge of the desk.
It was a round plastic button mounted on a pin whereby it could be
affixed to the clothing. It was not far from Waldo's eyes; he could read
the lettering on it:
FREE SILVER
SIXTEEN TO ONE
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Schneider must be - old!
There was a narrow archway, which led into another room. Waldo could not
see into it very well; the arch was draped with a fringe curtain of
long strings of large ornamental beads.
The room was rich with odours, many of them old and musty, but not dirty.
Schneider straightened up and looked down at Waldo.
'There is nought wrong with your body. Up get yourself and walk.'
Waldo shook his head feebly. 'I am sorry, Grandfather. I cannot.'
'You must reach for the power and make it serve you. Try.'
'I am sorry. I do not know how.'
'That is the only trouble. All matters are doubtful, unless one knows.
You send your force into the Other World. You must reach into the Other
World and claim it.'
'Where is this "Other World", Grandfather?'
Schneider seemed a little in doubt as to how to answer this. 'The Other World,'
he said presently, 'is the world you do not see. It is here and it is there and
it is everywhere. But it is especially here.' He touched his forehead. 'The mind
sits in it and sends its messages through it to the body. Wait.' Hc shuffled
away to a little cupboard, from which he removed a small jar. It contained a
salve, or unguent, which he rubbed on his hands.
He returned to Waldo and knelt down beside him. Grasping one of Waldo's hands in
both of his, he began to knead it very gently. 'Let the mind be quiet)' he
directed. 'Feel for the power. The Other World is close and full of power.
Feel it.' The massage was very pleasant to Waldo's tired muscles.
The salve, or the touch of the old man's hand, produced a warm, relaxing tingle.
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If he were younger, thought Waldo, I would hire him as a masseur. He has a
magnetic touch.
Schneider straightened up again and said, 'There - that betters you? Now you
rest while I some coffee make.'
Waldo settled back contentedly. He was very tired. Not only was the trip
itself a nervous strain, but he was still in the grip of this damnable,
thick gravitational field, like a fly trapped in honey. Gramps Schneider's
ministrations had left him relaxed and sleepy. He must have dozed, for
the last thing he remembered was seeing Schneider drop an eggshell into
the coffeepot. Then the old man was standing before him, holding the pot
in one hand and a steaming cup in the other. He set them down, got three
pillows, which he placed at Waldo's back, then offered him the coffee.
Waldo laboriously reached out both hands to take it. Schneider held it back.
'No,' he reproved, 'one hand makes plenty. Do as I showed. Reach into the
Other World for the strength.' He took Waldo's right hand and placed it on the
handle of the cup, steadying Waldo's hand with his own. With his other hand
he stroked Waldo's right arm gently, from shoulder to fingertips. Again the
warm tingle.
Waldo was surprised to find himself holding the cup alone. It was a pleasant
triumph; at the time he left Earth, seventeen years before, it had been his
invariable habit never to attempt to grasp anything with only one hand. In
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