He was ravenous, but his muscles ached in every fibre. His wonder at her cleverness disappeared abruptly when he tried to move. He rolled over groaning and helpless.
Immediately, she was at his side, pushing him back onto the bed of dry, fragrant grass she had put him on. "Now don't try to move around," she admonished. "Just a few days, and you'll be all right."
"Oooo," Hal groaned. "This is awful."
"There, there," she murmured solicitously. "I've made you some soup. You'll like it."
"Soup," he groaned. "I want food. Good solid synthomeat. Don't you have any food?"
"Solid food in your stomach so soon in this heavy gravity would kill you."
She went away and returned quickly with a little cup and spoon, and proceeded to empty the container into his lax mouth a few drops at a time. After a while, he ceased his protesting. It was less painful to swallow the slop than to fight it. Very soon afterward, he lost consciousness.
Later, he was again aware of his surroundings. He felt tremendously better, and observed with a peculiar satisfaction that it was morning. Funny sounds were in the air, which he eventually recognized as the cries of wild birds and insects. Insects? He blinked his eyes and struggled to a sitting position, and looked worriedly around. Insects can carry disease, he remembered. And wild animals were reported to be carnivorous.
His clumsy motions awakened Lois, who had been sleeping beside him. Hal looked down at her with a vague wonder. Such a nice looking savage, he thought, as she popped open her eyes. She smiled a pleased morning smile at him and lazily stretched.