, his voice suddenly urgent.

"I'm sorry," Jason said. "I should have realized." He stepped forward
and pressed the machine over one of the inflamed areas on Rhes' chest.
The operation light came on and the thin shaft of the analyzer probe
slid down. When it withdrew the device hummed, then clicked three times
as three separate hypodermic needles lanced into the skin. Then the
light went out.

"Is that all?" Rhes asked, as he watched Jason stow the medikit back in
his belt.

Jason nodded, then looked up and noticed the wet marks of tears on the
sick man's face. Rhes became aware at the same time and brushed at them
angrily.

"When a man is sick," he growled, "the body and all its senses become
traitor. I don't think I have cried since I was a child--but you must
realize it's not myself I'm crying for. It's the untold thousands of my
people who have died for lack of that little device you treat so
casually."

"Surely you have medicines, doctors of your own?"

"Herb doctors and witch doctors," Rhes said, consigning them all to
oblivion with a chop of his hand. "The few hard-working and honest men
are hampered by the fact that the faith healers can usually cure better
than their strongest potion."

The talking had tired Rhes. He stopped suddenly and closed his eyes. On
his chest, the inflamed areas were already losing their angry color as
the injections took affect. Jason glanced around the room, looking for
clues to the mystery of these people.

* * * * *

Floor and walls were made of wood lengths fitted together, free of paint
or decoration. They looked simple and crude, fit only for the savages
he had expected to meet. Or were they crude? The wood had a sweeping,
flamelike grain. When he bent close he saw that wax had been rubbed over
the wood to bring out this pattern. Was this the act of savages--or of
artistic men seeking to make the most of simple materials? The final
effect was far superior to the drab paint and riveted steel rooms of the
city-dwelling Pyrrans. Wasn't it true that both ends of the artistic
scale were dominated by simplicity? The untutored aborigine made a
simple expression of a clear idea, and created beauty. At the other
extreme, the sophisticated critic rejected over-elaboration and
decoration and sought the truthful clarity of uncluttered art. At which
end of the scale was he looking now?

These men were savages, he had been told that. They dressed in