Boone gestured with his cigar. "Don't he look natural?  Preserved by a miracle, his flesh incorruptible.  That's the very chair he used to sit in when he wrote his messages... and that's just the pose he was in when he went to Heaven.  He never moved and he's never been moved - we just built the Tabernacle right around him... removing the old church, naturally, and preserving its sacred stones." Opposite them about twenty feet away, facing them, seated in a big arm chair remarkably like a throne, was an old man.  He looked as if he were alive - and he reminded Jill strongly of an old goat that had been on the farm where she had spent her childhood summers. Yes, even to the out-thrust lower lip, the cut of the whiskers, and the fierce, brooding eyes.  Jill felt her skin prickle; the Archangel Foster made her uneasy.  Mike said to her in Martian, "My brother, this is an Old One?"