Now, though Nelly was young, as has often been sung,
Her chosen profession was old.
Both instinct and habit advised her to "_Grab it!_"
Whenever she heard the word "gold."
She broke the connection, her vivid complexion
More flushed, and with movements exotic
Returned to the glade in which Dougal had stayed,
Her inner emotions chaotic.
She studied MacNeer as she slowly drew near,
Appraising him in a new light.
Nell trusted her spy; he would not tell a lie--
But somehow it didn't seem right!
MacNeer didn't act like a man who had cracked
A cache of asteroid dough,
And yet--Venus Nell smiled tightly--Ah, well,
She'd know in a minute or so.
With a cute little shrug she curled on the rug
And smiled into Doug's sober face.
"Go on!" she implored, "and tell me some more
About your adventures in Space.
Have you ever struck gold in the terrible cold?"
Her voice was a query and taunt.
Doug grinned at her there as he fondled her hair.
"I've found all the gold that _I_ want!"
Nell's eyes opened wide. "You have?" she replied,
And suddenly somewhere within her
A duel transpired 'tween the Nell who admired
This miner and Nelly the sinner.
Which would have won out is a matter of doubt
But Dougal MacNeer, growing bolder,
At that moment tossed dice with Fate--and he lost!
--By placing a hand on her shoulder.
He bent to her ear, and, "Nelly, my dear,"
He whispered, "Come lift gravs with me
To the skyways above ... I'll teach you to love ...
How wonderfully happy we'll be...."
And--that was a story to Nell old and hoary;
Nell shrugged with a gesture resigned;
A lustful and bestial man, just like the rest
Of his sex....
And she made up her mind.
Averting her face, she escaped his embrace
And whispered, "Wait here for a minute--"
A prearranged sign brought a fresh jug of wine
To Doug--with a sleeping drug in it.
Dougal, gleaming of eye, the glass lifted high
And drank it down, swiftly and deep;
In no time at all, he lay there asprawl
In impotent, stertorous sleep.
V
A pungent aroma jarred Doug from his coma
Much later. He lifted his head
To find he was not in the cool, shady grot
But in some sort of workshop, instead.
His senses were blurry, his tongue thick and furry;
He gagged at the odor and choked.
Then, head still awhirl, he noticed the girl,
And, "Nelly, where are we?" he croaked.
But the girl standing there with the bright yaller hair
Was hardly the girl of his dreams.
She was distant and cold, her manner was bold,
Her eyes glistened brightly with schemes.
With icy _élan_ she spoke to the man
At Dougal's side, "Very well, Gurk,
He's come to his senses, let's drop the pretenses;
Its time we got down to our work."
"Work, Nell?" Dougal gasped, and confusedly clasped
His hammering head in his hands.
He learned, then, that he was bound, foot and knee,
To his seat by unbreakable bands.
Nell said with a numb, deadly smile, "Don't play dumb!
Be smart and you'll shorten this visit.
We know from your log you struck gold in the Bog;
Now, come clean and tell us--where is it?"
"G-gold?" gulped MacNeer. "Th-there's some mistake here!"
He grinned, "Aw, you're kidding me, honey!
Now, be a good sport--" The girl cut him short,
"I don't think this matter is funny!
I gave you a chance to go into your dance;
If you won't, why--" She shifted her eyes
To her white-coated aide. "Well, Gurk, I'm afraid
He must talk through the _menavise_."
As Doug MacNeer's eyes opened wide in surprise
Gurk drew from a nearby cask
A shimmering, fiery helmet of wire;
A sinister sort of mask.
Doug never had seen the fantastic machine
Before, but he'd oftentimes heard
Of the dreaded and hated device that translated
Men's thoughts into spoken words!
With a terrible cry of anger, on high
He lifted his brawny fists,
But an instrument clicked, and manacles snicked!
Like vises about his wrists.
"Well, _now_ will you tell us?" persisted Nell.
"There's nothing to tell!" he said.
Nell's warm lips drew fine, and she made a brief sign ...
And the helmet dropped over his head!