Schneider pushed the dog's face out of the way and went over him thoroughly, prodding, thumping, extending his limbs. He grasped Baldur's muzzle, pushed back his lips, and eyed his gums. He peeled back the dog's eyelids. He then dropped the matter and came to Waldo's side. ‘The dog is not sick,' he said; ‘his mind confuses. What made it?
Waldo told him about Baldur's unusual background. Schneider nodded acceptance of the matter - Waldo could not tell whether he had understood or not - and turned his attention to Waldo. ‘It is not good for a sprottly lad to lie abed. The weakness - how long has it had you?
‘All my life, Grandfather.
'That is not good.' Schneider went over him as he had gone over Baldur. Waldo, whose feeling for personal privacy was much more intense than that of the ordinarily sensitive man, endured it for pragmatic reasons. It was going to be necessary, he felt, to wheedle and cajole this strange old creature. It would not do to antagonize him
To divert his own attention from the indignity he chose to submit to, and to gain further knowledge of the old quack, Waldo let his eyes rove the room. The room where they were seemed to be a combination kitchen-living room. It was quite crowded, rather narrow, but fairly long. A fireplace dominated the kitchen end, but it had been bricked up, and a hole for the flue pipe of the base-burner had been let into the chimney. The fireplace was lopsided, as an oven had been included in its left side. The corresponding space at the right was occupied by a short counter which supported a tiny sink. The sink was supplied with water by a small hand pump which grew out of the counter
Schneider, Waldo decided, was either older than he looked, which seemed incredible, or he had acquired his house from someone now long dead
The living room end was littered and crowded in the fashion which is simply unavoidable in constricted quarters. Books filled several cases, were piled on the floor, hung precariously on chairs. An ancient wooden desk, crowded with papers and supporting a long-obsolete mechanical typewriter, filled one corner. Over it, suspended from the wall, was an ornate clock, carved somewhat like a house. Above its face were two little doors; while Waldo looked at it, a tiny wooden bird painted bright red popped out of the left-hand door, whistled ‘Th-wu th-woo!' four times, and popped frantically back into its hole. Immediately thereafter a little grey bird came out of the right-hand door, said ‘Cuckoo' three times in a leisurely manner, and returned to its hole. Waldo decided that he would like to own such a clock; of course its pendulum-and-weight movement would not function in Freehold, but he could easily devise a one-g centrifuge frame to enclose it, wherein it would have a pseudo Earth-surface environment
It did not occur to him to fake a pendulum movement by means of a concealed power source; he liked things to work properly
To the left of the clock was an old-fashioned static calendar of paper. The date was obscured, but the letters above the calendar proper were large and legible: New York World's Fair - Souvenir of the World of Tomorrow. Waldo's eyes widened a little and went back to something he had noticed before, sticking into a pincushion on the edge of the desk. It was a round plastic button mounted on a pin whereby it could be affixed to the clothing. It was not far from Waldo's eyes; he could read the lettering on it:
FREE SILVER SIXTEEN TO ONE
Schneider must be - old! There was a narrow archway, which led into another room. Waldo could not see into it very well; the arch was draped with a fringe curtain of long strings of large ornamental beads
The room was rich with odours, many of them old and musty, but not dirty
Schneider straightened up and looked down at Waldo. ‘There is nought wrong with your body. Up get yourself and walk.
Waldo shook his head feebly. ‘I am sorry, Grandfather. I cannot.
‘You must reach for the power and make it serve you. Try.
‘I am sorry. I do not know how.
‘That is the only trouble. All matters are doubtful, unless one knows. You send your force into the Other World. You must reach into the Other World and claim it.
‘Where is this "Other World", Grandfather?
Schneider seemed a little in doubt as to how to answer this. ‘The Other World,' he said presently, ‘is the world you do not see. It is here and it is there and it is everywhere. But it is especially here.' He touched his forehead. ‘The mind sits in it and sends its messages through it to the body. Wait.' Hc shuffled away to a little cupboard, from which he removed a small jar. It contained a salve, or unguent, which he rubbed on his hands
He returned to Waldo and knelt down beside him. Grasping one of Waldo's hands in both of his, he began to knead it very gently. ‘Let the mind be quiet)' he directed. ‘Feel for the power. The Other World is close and full of power. Feel it.' The massage was very pleasant to Waldo's tired muscles
The salve, or the touch of the old man's hand, produced a warm, relaxing tingle. If he were younger, thought Waldo, I would hire him as a masseur. He has a magnetic touch
Schneider straightened up again and said, ‘There - that betters you? Now you rest while I some coffee make.
Waldo settled back contentedly. He was very tired. Not only was the trip itself a nervous strain, but he was still in the grip of this damnable, thick gravitational field, like a fly trapped in honey. Gramps Schneider's ministrations had left him relaxed and sleepy. He must have dozed, for the last thing he remembered was seeing Schneider drop an eggshell into the coffeepot. Then the old man was standing before him, holding the pot in one hand and a steaming cup in the other. He set them down, got three pillows, which he placed at Waldo's back, then offered him the coffee. Waldo laboriously reached out both hands to take it. Schneider held it back. ‘No,' he reproved, ‘one hand makes plenty. Do as I showed. Reach into the Other World for the strength.' He took Waldo's right hand and placed it on the handle of the cup, steadying Waldo's hand with his own. With his other hand he stroked Waldo's right arm gently, from shoulder to fingertips. Again the warm tingle
Waldo was surprised to find himself holding the cup alone. It was a pleasant triumph; at the time he left Earth, seventeen years before, it had been his invariable habit never to attempt to grasp anything with only one hand. In Freehold, of course, he frequently handled small objects one-handed, without the use of waldoes. The years of practice must have improved his control. Excellent! So, feeling rather cocky, he drank the cupful with one hand, using extreme care not to slop it onhimself. It was good coffee, too, he was bound to admit - quite as good as the sort he himself made from the most expensive syrup extract - better, perhaps
When Schneider offered him coffeecake, brown with sugar and cinnamon and freshly rewarmed, he swaggeringly accepted it with his left hand, without asking to be relieved of the cup. He continued to eat and drink, between bites and sips resting and steadying his forearms on the edges of the tank
The conclusion of the Kaffeeklatsch seemed a good time to broach the matter of the deKalbs. Schneider admitted knowing McLeod and recalled, somewhat vaguely it seemed, the incident in which he had restored to service McLeod's broomstick. ‘Hugh Donald is a good boy,' he said. ‘Machines I do not like, but it pleasures me to fix things for boys.
‘Grandfather,' asked Waldo, ‘will you tell me how you fixed Hugh Donald McLeod's ship?