Now I stepped out with a new stride. I was the hunter rather than the hunted. My pitiful, inadequate little weapons swept all doubts from my mind. I was now equal to any emergency.
"Duare," I exclaimed, "I am going to find Vepaja; I am going to take you home!"
She looked at me questioningly. "The last time we spoke of that," she reminded me, "you said that you hadn't the remotest idea where Vepaja was and that if you had, you couldn't hope to get there."
"That," I said, "was several days ago. Things are different now. Now, Duare, we are going hunting; we are going to have meat for dinner. You walk behind me so as not to frighten the game."
I moved forward with my old assurance and, perhaps, a little incautiously. Duare followed a few paces in the rear. There was considerable undergrowth in this portion of the forest, more than I had encountered before, and I could not see very far in any direction. We were following what appeared to be a game trail, along which I advanced boldly but silently.
Presently I saw a movement in the foliage ahead and then what appeared to be the outlines of some large animal. Almost instantly the silence of the forest was broken by the thunderous bellow of a basto, and there was a great crashing in the undergrowth.
"Take to the trees, Duare!" I cried, and at the same time I turned and ran back to assist her in climbing out of danger; and then Duare stumbled and fell.
Again the basto bellowed, and a quick backward glance revealed the mighty creature in the trail only a few paces in my rear. He was not charging, but he was advancing, and I could see that he would be upon us before we could possibly climb to safety, because of the slight delay occasioned by Duare's fall.
There appeared to be but one course of action open to me—I must delay the beast until Duare had gained a place of safety. I recalled how Kamlot had slain one of the creatures by distracting its attention from himself to a leafy branch held in his left hand and then plunged his keen sword behind the shoulder down into the heart. But I had no leafy branch and only a crude wooden spear.
He was almost upon me, his red-rimmed eyes blazing, his white tusks gleaming. He loomed as large as an elephant to my excited imagination. He put his head down, another thunderous roar rumbled from his cavernous chest, and then he charged.
* * * * *
As the basto bore down upon me my only thought was to divert his attention from Duare until she should be safely out of his reach. It all happened so quickly that I imagine I had no time to think of my own almost certain fate.
The brute was so close to me when he started his charge that he attained no great speed. He came straight toward me with head lowered, and so mighty and awe inspiring was he that I did not even consider attempting to stop him with my puny weapons.
Instead, all my thoughts centered upon one objective—to save myself from being impaled upon those horns.
I grasped them, one with each hand, as the basto struck me, and, thanks to my unusual strength, I succeeded in breaking the force of the impact as well as diverting the horns from my vitals.
The instant that he felt my weight the brute ripped upward with his head in an effort to gore and toss me, and in the latter he succeeded beyond anything that I might have expected and, I imagine, beyond what he intended.
With almost the force of an explosion I was hurtled upward to crash through the foliage and the branches of the tree above, dropping my weapons as I went. Fortunately my head came in contact with no large limb, and so I retained consciousness through it all. I also retained my presence of mind and, clutching frantically, I succeeded in grasping a branch across which my body had fallen. From there I dragged myself to the safety of a larger limb.
My first thought was of Duare. Was she safe? Had she been able to climb out of danger before the basto disposed of me and was upon her, or had he reached and gored her?
My fears were almost immediately allayed by the sound of her voice. "Oh, Carson, Carson! Are you hurt?" she cried. The anguish of her tones was ample reward for any hurts I might have sustained.
"I think not," I replied; "just shaken up a bit. Are you all right? Where are you?"
"Here, in the next tree. Oh, I thought he had killed you!"
I was testing out my joints and feeling of myself for possible injuries; but I discovered nothing more serious than bruises, and scratches, and of these I had plenty.
As I was examining myself, Duare made her way along interlocking branches and presently she was at my side. "You're bleeding," she exclaimed. "You are hurt."
"These are nothing but scratches," I assured her; "only my pride is hurt."
"You have nothing to be ashamed of; you should be very proud of what you did. I saw. I glanced behind me as I got to my feet, and I saw you standing right in the path of that terrible beast so that it would not reach me."
"Perhaps," I suggested, "I was too terrified to run—just paralyzed by fears."
She smiled and shook her head. "I know better than that; I know you too well."
"Any risk would be worth taking if it won your approval."
She was silent for a moment, looking down at the basto. The brute was pawing the ground and bellowing. Occasionally it would pause and look up at us.
"We could get away from it by going through the trees," suggested Duare. "They grow very close together here."
"And abandon my new weapons?" I demanded.
"He'll probably go away in a few minutes, as soon as he realizes we are not coming down."
But he didn't go away in a few minutes. He bellowed and pawed and gored the ground for half an hour, and then he lay down beneath the tree.
"That fellow's an optimist," I remarked. "He thinks that if he waits long enough we'll probably come down of our own volition."
Duare laughed. "Maybe he thinks we'll die of old age and fall down."
"That's a joke on him; he doesn't know that we have been inoculated with the serum of longevity."
"In the meantime, the joke is on us; and I am getting hungry."
"Look, Duare!" I whispered, as I caught sight of something dimly visible through the tangled undergrowth beyond the basto.
"What is it?" she asked.
"I don't know, but it's something large."
"It is creeping silently through the brush, Carson . Do you suppose it is something that has caught our scent, some other terrible beast of prey?"
"Well we are up a tree," I reassured her.
"Yes, and many of these creatures climb trees. I wish you had your weapons."
"If that basto would look the other way for a minute, I'd go down and get them."
"No, you mustn't do that—one or the other of them would get you."
"Here it comes now, Duare! Look!"
"It's a tharban," she whispered.
Chapter 7—Bull Against Lion
THE EVIL FACE of the fierce carnivore was protruding from the underbrush a short distance beyond and behind the basto. The latter did not see it, nor did his nostrils catch the scent of the great cat-like creature.
"It's not looking at us," I said; "it's watching the basto."
"Do you suppose—" commenced Duare, and then her words were drowned by the most blood-curdling scream I have ever heard.
It came from the savage throat of the tharban at the instant it sprang toward the basto. The latter beast, lumbering to its feet, was caught at a disadvantage. The tharban leaped full upon its back, sinking talons and fangs deep into the tough flesh.
The bellowing of the basto mingled with the roars and growls of the tharban in a hideous diapason of bestial rage that seemed to rock the forest.
The huge bull wheeled in a frenzy of pain and sought to sink its horn in the thing upon its back. The tharban struck viciously at the savage face, raking downward from poll to muzzle, tearing hide and flesh to the bone, one great talon ripping an eye from its socket.