He did not speak.
"Why, my master?" she asked.
"It pleases me," he said.
"How can I convince you of my love?" she asked. "How can I earn your trust?"
"Do you wish to be whipped?" he asked.
"No, Master," she said.
He rolled over and took her by the arms, and put her to her back.
"It seems a small thing," she said, "that a girl beg to be permitted to sleep at her master's feet." She lifted her lips and kissed him. Then she lay back. "Do you think me less than the white slaves?" she asked.
"No," he said. "You are neither more nor less than they. You are all alike in being slaves."
"But I am the only tied slave," she said.
"Yes," he said.
"Could you not at least unfasten my ankles?" she asked.
"Ah," he laughed. "You are a little slave, Tende."
When he had finished with her, he did not retie her ankles.
"You have not retied my ankles," she said. "Does this mean that you are now moved to treat me with a bit more kindness?"
"No," he said. "It is merely that I may want you again before morning."
"Yes, my master," she laughed. She then snuggled against him. Soon they were both asleep.
41
The Net In The River
"Look out!" cried Ayari.
It seemed to rip up from the water, extending across the river.
It rose before us, reticulated and wet, dripping, a net, a barrier of interwoven vines.
"Cut through!" shouted Kisu.
At the same time, behind us, we heard shouting. From each side of the river, about two hundred yards behind, we saw canoes, dozens, being thrust into the river.
"Cut through!" cried Kisu.
Ayari, with his knife, slashed at the vines.
We brought the canoe against the net, so that I and Kisu, too, each armed with a panga, might slash at the woven wall which had, on vine ropes, sprung from shore, lifted up before us.
The shouting behind us came closer.
The trap, weighted, just below the surface, is activated by two vine ropes, slung over tree branches, ropes which are drawn taut when two logs, to which they are attached, one on each shore, are rolled or dropped from a concealed scaffolding. A signal which we had failed to note had doubtless been given.
The keen steel of our pangas smote apart thick vines, Water from the wet vines, struck loose by our blows, showered upon us.
"Get the canoe through!" cried Kisu.
We turned the canoe. A spear splashed near us. Ayari lifted aside vines. The canoe, vines sliding against its side, slipped through.
"Paddle!" said Kisu. "Paddle for your lives!"
We Leave A Village At Night
"Tarl," whispered Ayari.
"Yes," I said.
"We must leave this village," he said.
We had now been on the river four months since we had, first, on the looming height of the falls, observed the many ships and canoes of the forces of Bila Huruma far behind us. We did not even know, now, if they were behind us or not. Too, we had seen no new evidence of Shaba ahead of us. A month ago we had eluded the net of vines and, by paddling into the darkness, had escaped our pursuers. They would not remain on the river at night. It is impossible to convey, in any brief measure, the glory and length of the river, and the hundreds of geographical features, and the varieties of animal and vegetable life characterizing it and its environs. The river alone seems a world of nature in its own right, let alone the marvels of its associated terrain. It was like a road to wonders, a shining, perilous, enchanted path leading into the heart of rich, hitherto unknown countries. It, in its ruggedness, its expanse, its tranquility, its rages, was like a key to unlock a great portion of a burgeoning continent, a device whereby might be opened a new, fresh world, green, mysterious and vast. Not a geographer, I could scarcely conjecture the riches and resources which lay about me. I had seen traces of copper and gold in cliffs. The river and forests teemed with life. Fibrous, medicinal, and timber resources alone seemed inexhaustible. A new world, untapped, beautiful, dangerous, was opened by the river. I think it would be impossible to overestimate its importance.
"What is wrong?" I asked.
"I have been looking about the village in the darkness," he whispered.
"Yes?" I said.
"I have found the refuse dump," he said.
"Within the walls?" I asked.
"Yes," he said.
"That is strange," I said. Normally a village would have its refuse dump outside the walls.
"I thought it strange, too," said Ayari. "I took the liberty of examining it."
"Yes?" I said.
"It contains human bones," he said.
"That is doubtless why it is kept within the walls," I said.
"I think so," said Ayari. "That way strangers will not see it before, unsuspecting, they enter the village."
"They seemed friendly fellows," I said. They were, however, I admitted to myself, not the most attractive lot I had ever seen. Their teeth had been filed to points.
"I never trust a man," said Ayari, "until I know what he eats"
"Where are the men of the village?" I asked.
"They are not asleep," said Ayari. "They are gathered in one of the huts."
"I shall awaken Janice and Alice," I said. "Awaken Kisu and Tende."
"I shall do so," he whispered.
In a few Ehn, our things in hand, we crept from the village. By the time we heard men crying out in rage, and saw torches on the shore, we were safely on the river.
43
Talunas
"See the size of it," said Ayari.
"I do not think it will attack a canoe," said Kisu.
Ayari shoved it away from the side of the canoe with his paddle and it, with a snap of its tail, disappeared under the water.
"I have seen them before," I said, "but they were only about six inches in length."
The creature which had surfaced near us, perhaps ten feet in length, and a thousand pounds in weight, was scaled and had large, bulging eyes. It had gills, but it, too, gulped air, as it had regarded us. It was similar to the tiny lung fish I had seen earlier on the river, those little creatures clinging to the half-submerged roots of shore trees, and, as often as not, sunning themselves on the backs of tharlarion, those tiny fish called gints. Its pectoral fins were large and fleshy.
"Oh, men!" we heard cry. "Men! Men! Please help me! Take pity on me! Help me!"
"Look, Master!" cried Alice. "There, near the shore! A white girl!"
She was slender-legged and dark-haired. She wore brief skins. She ran down to the edge of the water. Her hands were not bound together but, from each wrist, there hung a knotted rope. It was as though she had been bound and, somehow, had been freed.
"Please save me!" she cried. "Help me!"
I examined the condition of the skins she wore. I noted, also, that she wore a golden armlet and, on her neck, a necklace of claws. She also had, about her waist, a belt, with a dagger sheath, though the sheath was now empty.
"Save me, please, noble sirs!" she wept. She waded out a few feet into the water. She extended her hands to us piteously. She was quite beautiful.
I considered the forest behind her. The trees were thick, the brush, near the river, heavy.
Kisu and I dipped our paddles into the water. "Master!" cried Janice. "Surely you cannot leave her here?"
"Be silent, Slave Girl," I said to her.
"Yes, Master," she said. She choked back a sob. She again dipped her paddle into the water.
"Please, please help me!" we heard the girl cry.