"By the way, you were going to show me something that would explain
your theory of well-being."
"That's right," Lutscher said, "I was, wasn't I? Well, this is it. Have
you noticed that there are young mahutes, and middle-aged ones, but
none that are old? I'm convinced that the food here is the source of
immortality!"
"That's absurd," Tang said, startled at the other's suggestion. "In the
first place, how could you tell how old they are? Perhaps some of those
you think are middle-aged are really old, or even ready to die."
"You know better than that," Lutscher answered. "There are always
signs of advanced age, such as slow movements, wrinkled skin, or bent
figures, that can be read by anyone looking for them. Those signs are
not present here. Furthermore, have you seen a dead mahute, or even one
that was ill? Or anything that looks like a graveyard?"
"I haven't," Tang answered. "But that would prove nothing. I haven't
been here long enough to say that there aren't any because I haven't
seen them. Neither have you. And naturally these people would have
their own rituals for disposing of their dead. Perhaps the burying is
done in secret." Suddenly he stopped walking. "I have it," he said.
"The sealed huts! I'll wager that's their burial custom. When one of
them dies the others seal his body in his hut."
For the time it took him to draw two deep breaths Lutscher seemed half
convinced. Then, "I'm sure you're wrong," he said, but there was an
excitement in his voice: The kind of excitement that pleased him. "If
you're game let's find out," he urged. "As soon as we get the chance
we'll break into one of the sealed huts and see what's there."