She had tried to converse with her guard but he had not seemed inclined to talk with her and she had finally desisted.  She could not but note that he had offered her no indignities, nor had he been either unnecessarily rough or in any way cruel.  The fact that she had slain two of the bodies with her dagger had apparently aroused no animosity or desire for revenge in the minds of the strange heads that surmounted the bodies—­even those whose bodies had been killed.  She did not try to understand it, since she could not approach the peculiar relationship between the heads and the bodies of these creatures from the basis of any past knowledge or experience of her own.  So far their treatment of her seemed to augur naught that might arouse her fears.  Perhaps, after all, she had been fortunate to fall into the hands of these strange people, who might not only protect her from harm, but even aid her in returning to Helium.  That they were repulsive and uncanny she could not forget, but if they meant her no harm she could, at least, overlook their repulsiveness.  Renewed hope aroused within her a spirit of greater cheerfulness, and it was almost blithely now that she moved at the side of her weird companion.  She even caught herself humming a gay little tune that was then popular in Helium.  The creature at her side turned its expressionless eyes upon her.

“What is that noise that you are making?” it asked.

“I was but humming an air,” she replied.

“‘Humming an air,’” he repeated.  “I do not know what you mean; but do it again, I like it.”

This time she sang the words, while her companion listened intently.  His face gave no indication of what was passing in that strange head.  It was as devoid of expression as that of a spider.  It reminded her of a spider.  When she had finished he turned toward her again.

“That was different,” he said.  “I liked that better, even, than the other.  How do you do it?”

“Why,” she said, “it is singing.  Do you not know what song is?”

“No,” he replied.  “Tell me how you do it.”

“It is difficult to explain,” she told him, “since any explanation of it presupposes some knowledge of melody and of music, while your very question indicates that you have no knowledge of either.”

“No,” he said, “I do not know what you are talking about; but tell me how you do it.”

“It is merely the melodious modulations of my voice,” she explained.  “Listen!” and again she sang.

“I do not understand,” he insisted; “but I like it.  Could you teach me to do it?”

“I do not know, but I shall be glad to try.”

“We will see what Luud does with you,” he said.  “If he does not want you I will keep you and you shall teach me to make sounds like that.”