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He is larger and more gorgeously marked; but otherwise he and I are identical, and why not? Did not Luud produce the egg from which I hatched?" "What?" queried the girl; "I do not understand you." "Yes," explained Ghek, "all of us are from Luud's eggs, just as all the swarm of Moak are from Moak's eggs."
"Not while this Moak holds a sword," replied the other. "Rather will I cut her in twain and take my half to Moak than to relinquish her all to Luud," and he drew his sword, or rather he laid his hand upon its hilt in a threatening gesture; but before ever he could draw it the Luud had whipped his out and with a fearful blow cut deep into the head of his adversary.
"Come!" said one of her captors, both of whom had retained a hold upon her. As he spoke he tried to lead her away with him toward the nearest tower. "She belongs to me," cried the other. "Did not I capture her? She will come with me to the tower of Moak." "Never!" insisted the first. "She is Luud's. To Luud I will take her, and whosoever interferes may feel the keenness of my sword in the head!"
Then his artistic eye took in the incongruity of the colors, and he gasped for breath, and said: "Moak, that is played out. People will notice it." But he relapsed again into semi-unconsciousness, and never spoke again, not a great deal, till he got home.
They tried to interest him in conversation by drawing war maps with three-tined forks on the jam, but he never showed that he knew what they were about until Mr. Moak, of Watertown, took a brush, made of cauliflower preserved in mustard, and shaded the lines of the war map on Mr. Cha-pin's trousers, which Mr. Butterfield had drawn in the jam.
The body stood dully for a moment and then slowly started to wander aimlessly about until one of the others seized it by the arm. One of the two heads crawling about on the ground now approached. "This rykor belongs to Moak," it said. "I am a Moak.
"I know nothing but that she was found in the fields and that I caught her after a fight in which she slew two rykors and in which I slew a Moak, and that I take her to Luud, to whom, of course, she belongs. If Luud wishes to question her that is for Luud to do not for me." Thus always he answered the curious.
Mr. Moak, without the aid of his glasses, saw that there was liable to be trouble, so he asked Caswell to excuse him a moment, and turning to the delivery window where she was asking the clerk what time the mail came in, he said: "I beg a thousand pardons, madame.
Now that was a kind thing for Peter to do, and an act that any gentleman might be proud of, but he was amazed at her when she told him to mind his own business, and she would attend to her own petticoat, and she marched off just a trifle mad. She went into the postoffice to mail a postal card, just as Mr. Moak, the postmaster, came out of his private office with Hon.
L. B. Caswell, the congressman. Mr. Moak, without the aid of his glasses, saw that there was liable to be trouble, so he asked Caswell to excuse him a moment, and turning to the delivery window where she was asking the clerk what time the mail came in, he said: "I beg a thousand pardons, madame.
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