"The same tree shoots that the mahutes eat," Lutscher answered. "The mahutes gather it for them."
"Doesn't that seem strange?" Tang asked. "Do you think there's any possibility that the ankites are in control here? You said the mahutes weren't very intelligent."
"I hadn't thought of that before," Lutscher answered. "But I don't think so. I believe they're simply two primitive species that have found the means of living together in mutual cooperation."
"Just what do the ankites contribute to that cooperation?"
Lutscher shook his head. "You've got me."
"By the way, you were going to show me something that would explain your theory of well-being."
"That's right," Lutscher said, "I was, wasn't I? Well, this is it. Have you noticed that there are young mahutes, and middle-aged ones, but none that are old? I'm convinced that the food here is the source of immortality!"
"That's absurd," Tang said, startled at the other's suggestion. "In the first place, how could you tell how old they are? Perhaps some of those you think are middle-aged are really old, or even ready to die."
"You know better than that," Lutscher answered. "There are always signs of advanced age, such as slow movements, wrinkled skin, or bent figures, that can be read by anyone looking for them. Those signs are not present here. Furthermore, have you seen a dead mahute, or even one that was ill? Or anything that looks like a graveyard?"
"I haven't," Tang answered. "But that would prove nothing. I haven't been here long enough to say that there aren't any because I haven't seen them. Neither have you. And naturally these people would have their own rituals for disposing of their dead. Perhaps the burying is done in secret." Suddenly he stopped walking. "I have it," he said. "The sealed huts! I'll wager that's their burial custom. When one of them dies the others seal his body in his hut."