Argosy All-Story Weekly, February 18, 1928 — page 64: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

862 His voice held an intonation almost gruesome. He changed the subject ab- ruptly. “Our king, very shortly now he will want to see you. He feels, perhaps you can aid us. You men—of strength—and these two young women—they might perhaps be of assistance in dealing with our virgins. But you will have to be examined, your minds gauged, so that we may know if your oath of allegiance is honorable.” “By the infernal, mine will be!” Jim exclaimed. “I'll go with your army to the caves—nameless horror, or not.” Lupe and I were sitting together, that morning when Lupe was wondering what his own fate would be. Jim, with Ren, presently joined us. And then Dr. Weath- erby approached. “ Where are the girls?” he asked. They were in another part of the build- ing. I noticed Dr. Weatherby gazing downstairs with a furtive air, as though he had come here to join us, knowing the girls were not here, and not wanting them around. Jim was saying: “ You think, Ren, that to-morrow—I mean after our next sleep— that the king will want to see us?” “Ves,” answered Ren. “ Perhaps to- morrow.” “ Because,” said Jim, “I want to get it over with. Say, after we swear we'll be honorable in our dealings with you—” His gaze, 1 think quite by chance, went to Lupe Perez, and Lupe shrank visibly before it. “When we’ve taken the oath,” Jim added, “they'll let us out of here, won’t they? If we're going to join your army—” Dr. Weatherby sat down among us. He said to Ren: “ You spoke of your king being in ill-health. Do you have much sick- ness, much disease, here?” “No,” replied the old man. “ Our cli- mate is healthy: Our people have always been so. ‘There is very little—” “JY mean—perhaps you have doctors, men of medicine, who are quite skillful?” “Ves, There are such. In the past they have been very learned. The records of our history—” “And _ surgeons, SS skillful ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. surgeons?” Dr. Weatherby was leaning forward; his hands, locked in his lap, were trembling. Ren said abruptly: mean?” I found my heart beating fast. I could appreciate Dr. Weatherby’s _ill-concealed emotion, that he considered himself a fail- ure, and his dream, his hope that out here beyond the stars Dolores’s blindness could be cured. And now he was at the point of finding out. His voice held a pathetic quiver. ‘““T mean—my granddaughter, Dolores— she is blind, Ren. You know that. And she has always been blind, never seen the blessed light. In darkness always.” The old man nodded gravely. “‘ That is so. It is very sorrowful. I have seen oth- ers here; it is a terrible affliction.” ‘But your surgeons, Ren. I have dared hope that she could be cured.” There was a moment of breathless si- lence. A pity for Dr. Weatherby swept me. Ren would shake his head; he would say: “ No, she cannot.” He spoke. ‘“ Why, it could of course be done.” He waved aside Dr. Weatherby’s glad cry. “ But you could not find any one who would give his eyes for hers. No one, in all our nation, would be willing to do that. It is horribly painful for the one who gives—no anesthetic is possible. And it must be some one youthful; young, healthy eyes—”’ He gazed at all of us. ‘‘ You would not, would you? Or you? It is unthinkable, voluntarily to go into darkness. You would not do it, would you?” Momentarily he seemed addressing me. My heart leaped. Would I, for any one, yield up my blessed sight? Would Jim? Ren added quietly: ‘“ A transplantation of the optic nerve is fairly simple. But it gives sight to one person only by taking sight from another. Of course, if you had a volunteer—or some one who deserved the punishment—or some one to whom the ey Dolores was very dear—?”’ His sentence was never finished. Lupe Perez was on his feet. He said slowly: “How about my eyes—will they be all “What do you right?” | com (Efe) eee) ;<