Jan-an rose stiffly as if she were strung on wires. Her joints cracked as they fell into place, but once the long body stood upright, Northrup noticed that it was not without a certain rough grace and it looked strong and capable of great endurance.
“I’ve been following you since the first day when you landed,” Jan-an spoke calmly. There was no warning or distrust in the voice, merely a statement of fact. “And I’m going to keep on following and watching, so long as you stay.”
“Good! I’ll never be really lonely then, and you’ll sooner get to trusting me.”
“I ain’t much for trusting till I knows.”
The girl turned and strode away. “Well, if you ever need me, try me out, Jan-an. Good-bye.”
Northrup felt ill at ease after Jan-an passed from sight.
“Of all the messes!” he thought. “It makes me superstitious. What’s the matter with this Forest?”
And then Maclin again came into focus. Around Maclin, apparently, the public thought revolved.
“They don’t trust Maclin.” Northrup began to reduce things to normal. “He’s got them guessing with his damned inventions and secrecy. Then every outsider means a possible accomplice of Maclin. They hate the foreigners he brings here. They have got their eyes on me. All right, Maclin, my ready-to-wear villain, here’s to you! And before we’re through with each other some interesting things will occur, or I’ll miss my guess.”