"Yes, yes indeed! The Chief isn't afraid any more. Go ahead, Roy, but
be careful. Yes indeed, very careful!"
Roy cautiously combed out a few strands of hair and holding them
gingerly in his hand, he snipped. A groan escaped from between Goma's
clenched teeth. Roy hesitated but Goma held up his hand again, making
cutting motions. Roy selected a few more strands of hair. As he cut,
Goma's breath hissed in sharply and his hands clutched the sides of the
chair. On the third cut, Goma's body relaxed and his eyes closed.
Thurwinker rushed to his side. He looked at him for a minute and then
ran to the door. "Quick," he said to one of the miners. "Get Dr. Bowen!"
The natives outside began to mutter angrily. Thurwinker dashed back to
the barber chair. "Go ahead," he hissed. "Keep cutting! Don't let the
natives think anything's gone wrong!"
By the time Dr. Bowen arrived, Goma's hair was neatly trimmed. The
Chief was still apparently unconscious and breathing heavily. Dr. Bowen
made a hasty examination and then straightened smiling. "It's all
right," he said to Thurwinker. "He's only fainted."
* * * * *
Thurwinker heaved a sigh. In a few minutes, Dr. Bowen brought Goma back
to consciousness. The Chief stood up but his legs were a little shaky.
Shoving away the helping hands, he reeled toward the open doorway.
The native stepped back with looks of awe and reverence. With pride,
Goma strode away, the natives following at his heels like obedient and
worshipful dogs.
"Now, Thurwinker," Dr. Bowen said, "what's this all about?"
Thurwinker explained the situation while Dr. Bowen listened intently.
"That's funny," the doctor muttered. "He didn't look like much of a
coward to me."
"Well, you have to watch these natives carefully," Thurwinker babbled.
"You never know what they're going to do next. Goma insisted on getting
a haircut and I thought it was a good opportunity to get the land we
need."
The doctor stirred a tuft of Goma's hair with the toe of his boot.
"Just the same, Thurwinker, you may get into trouble over this. We want
that land, but not if there's a war. You know what the Colonial Office
would say if trouble started." The doctor bent over and picked up the
bit of hair. "Hmmm. I wonder if this could be the reason."
"Reason for what?" Thurwinker asked.
"I don't know," Dr. Bowen replied, "but I'll make some tests." He
dropped the hair into his bag. "If I find out anything, I'll let
you know," he called as he started for the door, "and I advise you,
Thurwinker, to stay out of trouble."
Thurwinker nearly wore a groove in the floor with his pacing. He was
a nervous wreck by the time Dr. Bowen arrived. He practically jumped
on him as he came in the door. "Now, doctor! What have you been doing?
What kind of tests were you talking about and why all this mystery?"
"Calm down, Thurwinker," Dr. Bowen soothed. "There isn't any
mystery--at least, not any more."
"What do you mean?" Thurwinker demanded.
"I mean, you've been misled by the appearance of the natives. They look
like us except for that light orange color, but they've got at least
one fundamental difference. That stuff on their heads isn't exactly
hair."
"What!" Thurwinker exploded. "What is it, then? It looks like hair!"
"Under the microscope, there's quite a difference," Dr. Bowen
explained. "It has a hard covering just like our hair, the center is
hollow and contains a little fluid, but floating in this fluid is a
nerve."
"A what!"
"A nerve," the doctor answered, "just like in our teeth. I rather
imagine their hair is some kind of a sensory organ. I don't know what
kind, but I'm sending a sample back home and maybe they can find out."