They were strangers, though. They were unlike his people or anyone else he had ever met.They took the doe from his back and led him to their camp. By this time, the fever had him. He wasn’t sure how much he saw was real. Certainly, the walk through spear-grass could not have lasted at all as long as it seemed to. He had never seen more than a few tufts together. Here, they were standing together, and they went on and on. There didn’t seem to be any plants but those. An old man led him into a hut, and he collapsed on the bed of grass stems.For a time he couldn’t measure, he lay there. The old man gave him something bitter to drink, and he dropped back to sleep. A young woman gave him some soup, and he dropped back to sleep. This went on and on. They talked to him, but their words were strange.When the fever left him, but left him weak, he started to understand them. It wasn’t the language of his people, but it was only a little strange. They pronounced the words differently, but only. Most of the shoes hewore in the house were obviously feminine, all having come either fromwomen's departments in discount stores or from "Tall Gals" shoe stores.However he seldom wore them outside. He slipped them on over the socksand stood up."No. I don't like the looks of them. Take them off and take the socksoff too," she directed causing him to sit back down and do as he wastold. "Here, try these," she said handing him a pair of black leatherwedgies that she had bought at a 'tall gals' shop. They had a moccasinfront with a two inch wedge heel. He slipped his stockinged feet intothem and stood up. "That's better," she told him "Wear those." Whenshe saw the look on his face she remarked "It'll be OK, it's gettingdark out. Your stockings are sheer enough that it just looks like youare going without socks" OK," he said, not wholly convinced, as he took some bills, a creditcard and his driver's license from his wallet, putting them in a thinfolding nylon billfold. While his slacks had.
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