"Nor me," Matt concurred. "Why would he talk French?
I always thought he was North American; he spoke Basic like one."
"Maybe he was French-Canadian." Tex knelt beside hiifi and felt his forehead. "He seems sort of feverish. Maybe; we should give him some water."
"Okay." Oscar took the bladder and put it to Thuflow's Korps; he squeezed gently so that a little welled out. The injured man worked his lips and then began to suck on it, without appearing to wake up. Presently he let it fall from his mouth. "There," said Oscar, "maybe he'll feel better now;
"Are we going to save that for him?" asked Tex, eyeing the remainder of the food.
"Go ahead and eat it, if you want it. It turns a few hours after it's . . . well, it turns rancid."
"I don't believe I want any more," Tex decided.
They had been sleeping an undetermined length of time when a noise awakened them-a voice, unquestionably human. "Hey!" it demanded, "where art thou taking me? I insist that thou take me to see thy mother!"
The noise was right at their door. "Quell thy tongue!" answered a native accent; the curtain was shoved aside and someone was pushed into the room before the door was again closed.
"Hello there!" called out Oscar.