But still the young prince did not reply.
Myles Cabot glanced around the little group and saw that they all were
grinning broadly. They had heard the story before.
Cabot turned back to Toron again and urged, “Go on. You have just said
that, as you dashed through the row of ghostly figures, some one lassoed
you around the neck. What happened then?”
“What happened then?” replied the prince tantalizingly. “The next thing
that I knew the red light of morning was flooding the eastern sky. I was
lying naked on the ground in a garden, while just above me stretched a
clothesline with a row of Cupian togas fluttering in the breeze. These
were the ghostly row of sentinels of the night before, and the rope
which had cut off my wind so summarily had not been a lasso at all, but
merely the clothesline itself.”
Myles looked very uncomfortable and sheepish as a general laugh went up
at his expense. Then he declared: “Toron, you are a first class
story-teller, and you certainly had me fooled. Did it really happen?”
“Honestly,” the boy replied.
And Poblath added: “It couldn’t have been better if he had made it up.”
Then Toron went on with the narrative of his adventures: “The
clothesline was Builder-sent in my then naked condition. Hastily
grabbing one of the togas from off the rope, I donned it and hurried out
of the garden, just as the morning life began to stir in the little
village. Before folks had fully awakened for the day’s round of
pleasures and work, I had gained the fields and the woods beyond, and
there I slept throughout the day.
“Just before nightfall, I found some red clay with which to dye my
telltale yellow hair, and then set out once more to grope my weary way
northward through the jet black night. Thus I kept on for several days
of sleep and nights of travel, until one night a kerkool rounded a turn
too quickly for me and deluged me with its light before I had time to
scuttle into the woods. Scuttle I did, however, and soon several flash
lamps appeared among the trees in pursuit.
“The lights of my enemies showed me their whereabouts and thus enabled
me to dodge them. But on the other hand, I could not see to find my way,
whereas they could; with the result that finally they surrounded me.
There were four of them, four Formians. I was unarmed. ‘Foolhardiness is
not courage,’ as Poblath would say. So I surrendered. Luckily they did
not recognize me.”
“Why should they,” Cabot remarked, “without your yellow curls and your
royal robes?”
“Anyhow,” the prince continued, “they didn’t. I asked them what was the
idea of arresting a poor farmer in the middle of the night, and they
replied that it was this middle-of-the-night part of it that made my
actions suspicious. Where was I going, and what was I doing? I cooked up
some sort of a yarn about being out of a job and out of tickets, and
they appeared to believe me. However, they said that the orders of Queen
Formis were to make a census of all male Cupians, for the purpose of
either impressing them into service or killing them, as soon as the army
of King Yuri should come along on its triumphal march northward.
“Of course, I did not want to be listed and quartered on any of these
villages, where my identity would probably be recognized, so with mock
eagerness I asserted my loyalty to my brother—naturally not referring
to him as such—and inquired as to whether there were any openings for
mechanics in the air service, thanking my luck the while, that we
Cupians do not have registration numbers painted on our backs like the
Formians.
“As a result of my apparent eagerness to serve in the army, which seemed
perfectly plausible in view of my being out of a job, only a few
perfunctory questions were asked as to my identity, and I was taken
along to an encampment of the ants. I had picked the air service,
because that would undoubtedly be manned almost entirely by Formians,
who would not be so likely to recognize me as would my own countrymen,
unless I happened to run across some of my former instructors at the
University of Mooni. I had to take a chance on that.
“To make a long story short, the motley army of the yellow and black
allies came along a few days later bound northward, and I was assigned
to one of the kerkools which carried repair parts and machine tools for
the airplanes. We then proceeded north without event until the entire
army went into action south of Lake Luno. And, just in time for this
battle, there arrived a large force of fliers gathered from all over the
two kingdoms for the final drive that was to end the war.
“According to word brought back to the air base where I was stationed,
the army of my baby cousin had only one plane and one antiaircraft gun,
but these accounted for quite a number of ant fliers, and soon we were
busily at work making repairs.”
“Just a moment,” Myles Cabot interrupted. “Didn’t it give you a guilty
feeling to be repairing the airships that were to fly against your own
people?”
“Not at all,” Prince Toron replied with a smile, “for most of my efforts
were directed toward filing stay-wires almost to the breaking point,
drilling small holes in fuel tanks and plugging them with loose wooden
pegs, adding grit to the lubricating oil, and performing other similar
acts of sabotage. I really believe that I brought down fully as many
Formian planes as did the opposing army.
“But in spite of my loyal efforts and those of the brave Cupians
fighting under Hah and Tedn and Poblath, the black hordes were too
numerous and too well equipped, and so finally triumphed. Word came back
to us that the Kew forces had been driven beyond Lake Luno, and that
Luno Castle was under siege. Airplanes no longer returned for repairs,
and most of our mechanics—ants they were—drifted forward to get a view
of the fighting, leaving me all alone.
* * * * *
“Now was my chance to act. Near by stood one ship which had been brought
in for some minor adjustments, and on which I had secretly grounded the
ignition, thus putting the machine out of commission. It was a simple
matter to open the short-circuit, and soon I was humming up into the
air.
“Straight up I rose until I could get a pterodactyl’s eye view of the
lake and the surrounding hills. Several stads to the north was the
slowly retreating line of Hah Babbuh and Buh Tedn, followed by an
opposing line of the forces of Yuri, while other ant troops surmounted
the heights overlooking the little lake. Over the contending armies flew
the navies of Formis, dropping bombs, but their marksmanship was not
proving very destructive, for they were flying high to avoid the eddies
which rose from the gorges of the mountainous country to the northward.
“Even as I gazed, a party of fliers detached themselves from the advance
and returned toward Luno Castle, so I settled slowly down to join them.
Of course, they suspected nothing, until I got within a few parastads of
them and started dropping bombs. Two planes fell, and you should have
seen the rest scatter!
“But just as I was exulting over my momentary victory, my attention was
attracted to the island of the Castle. Fighting was in progress on the
heights and on the beaches. Cupians were leaping from the cliffs into
the water and swimming toward the northern shore of the lake. Many
Formians were rowing across from the mainland to the southern shore of
the island, where they disembarked and got into the fray, and very soon
after that every one of my countrymen had been driven into the water.
“They all seemed to be good swimmers, but on the northern mainland
cliffs awaited an eager throng of armed ant-men. Without a moment’s
hesitation I turned the nose of my plane straight down and dropped
almost to the level of the lake; then, quickly righting her, I skimmed
along the cliffs and cleared them of the black enemy with a few
well-placed bombs, just in time for the brave survivors of the castle to
land and make their way through the hostile cordon.”
“Yes,” Poblath confirmed, “if it hadn’t been for Toron, we never should
have succeeded in rejoining the army. We got through the next lines in a
storm which followed soon after.”
The young prince continued his story: “But this maneuver placed me below
the enemy fliers whom I had just dispersed. Back they came and swooped
down on me as I rose to meet them. My plan was to fly straight up
through them, for the reason that a target coming head on at a slight
angle is the hardest to hit from an airship. But they got me with a bomb
before I could make it; and my plane fluttered down into the water like
a falling leaf, completely out of control.
“It took me some paraparths to disentangle myself from the floating
wreckage; and by the time that I had done so, the storm, of which
Poblath speaks, had broken. It was not much of a storm as Porovian
storms go, but in the semi-darkness and rough waves I managed to swim
undetected to the island, where I concealed myself in one of the shore
caves until nightfall, when I ascended to the castle.
“There I found matters much as I imagine you found them, Myles, a day or
two later, except that the darling baby king, whom I had never seen
alive, was lying dead, kicked unceremoniously into a corner, with the
jeweled dagger of my brother stuck through its tiny chest. So I prepared
the funeral bier as you found it, and left that note to let you know
that Cupia still had a king. That is all.”
“But how did you get through the enemy lines to join our army?” asked
Cabot.
“That would take too long to tell,” replied Toron, “for we are anxious
to hear your adventures. I had a most difficult time hiding in the hills
and escaping from one danger only to fall into another. But luck was
with me and I finally got through after several sangths of wandering.
Now tell us _your_ story.”
So Cabot told of how he had been left for dead at the blockade on the
outskirts of Kuana the evening of the assassination, how he had
journeyed north with insufficient arms and no headset, how he had been
captured and then had escaped in the relay station, how he had fallen
into the trap of the ant-bear, how he had seized the kerkool and reached
Lake Luno, how he had been burned out of the woods and washed away by
the lost river, how he had fought the beasts of the dark in the Caves of
Kar until the blue ape had rescued him, how the priests had nursed him
back to health, and finally how he had made his way through the forces
of Yuri to safety and freedom.
When the comparing of notes had ceased, the newcomer outlined what he
had learned of the plans of the army of Yuri.
“Would that we could gain control of the air!” sighed Prince Toron,
“but, alas, we have not one single plane. Every day the enemy scouts fly
over us, mapping our positions. In fact, the only thing which holds them
at all in check is the large number of whistling bees which infest this
region, and an occasional shot from our two anti-aircraft guns.”
By this time the pink twilight had fallen over the face of the planet;
and Cabot, tired but somewhat relieved, withdrew to the quarters
prepared for him, and tumbled into the rough cot which he found there.
The next thing he knew, it was morning. He was awakened by an orderly
arriving at his tent, to inform him that the commanding general desired
his presence for a trip of inspection along the front. So with some
difficulty he shaved, made himself presentable, and reported at
headquarters, where Hah was awaiting him with a few of his more
immediate personal staff. A rough soldiers’ meal of green milk and alta
was served, and then the party started on their reconnaissance.
During the meal, and as they walked along, Hah sketched to his old
friend and associate the events which had occurred since Myles and Buh
Tedn with their loyal troops had left the mangool at Kuana on the
evening of the assassination, to begin their long march northward. Hah
had been instructed to hold the jail at all costs, as a rallying place
for whatever loyalists might remain at the capital. Throughout the rest
of that afternoon and all through the following night, the forces in the
mangool gradually augmented. By morning the jail was jammed with
supporters of the baby king. They even overflowed into all the
surrounding blocks.
* * * * *
But with the daylight came the inevitable, namely a few effective bombs
from Formian fliers, which forced Hah Babbuh and his men out into the
open. Just as he and his immediate advisers were wondering what course
to take, a messenger arrived from Kamel Barsarkar of Ktuth, stating that
he was in control of the city and pledging his allegiance to little Kew.
Instantly Hah decided to take the road which runs southeastward from
Kuana until it skirts the old pale which used to mark the boundary
between Cupia and Formia. This road then curves northward again until it
reaches the city of Ktuth.
So thither Hah set out, and met with practically no resistance, as Yuri
and his ants were all engaged to the northward and were naturally
expecting that Hah would head for Lake Luno. But the ant-men soon
discovered the plans of the loyal Cupians, and therefore attacked Ktuth
in force shortly after the newcomers reached there.
In Cupia there are but two principal roads running from the cities which
border the old pale to the northern part of the Okarze Mountains, at the
foothills of which lies Lake Luno. One of these roads starts at Kuana,
and is the one over which Poblath and his jail kerkools, Buh Tedn and
his foot troops, Prince Toron, the army of Yuri, and lastly Myles Cabot
himself, made their way. This is the direct road. The other runs north
from Ktuth and enters the Okarze range at a point northeast of Luno. And
it was over this second road that Kamel and Hah retreated.
It was well that they did, for they gathered additional supporters from
every town through which they passed, and they kept the enemy from
making a hurried advance along this road, and thus perhaps reaching the
mountains, and possibly even Luno Castle, ahead of the main Cupian army.
As it was, Hah and Kamel held the road, beat a masterly retreat and
joined the main army as it was entrenching itself just after the battle
of Lake Luno.
So much for Hah’s account, which I have greatly boiled down, as its
details would have but little bearing on the main events which I am
endeavoring to cover.
Now that Myles had heard this latest narrative, he was able to piece
together a very complete history of the war to date, compiled from the
events in Kuana before all the parties separated at the mangool, and
from his own adventures, and the stories told by the priests of Kar, by
Prince Toron, and by Hah Babbuh.
During the reconnaissance which now was in progress, Cabot’s attention
was chiefly devoted to recalling to memory and checking up these various
accounts.
Save for the cheers of the loyal troops, the trip along the front was
uneventful until there was heard in the southern skies the familiar purr
of a nearing motor. An enemy plane on scout duty. Instantly Hah and
Myles and their party got under cover.
On came the plane; but presently another sound was borne to the antennae
of the watchers, namely a shrill whistling from the woods on their
right.
“Now we’ll see some fun,” Hah softly radiated, “for here comes a
whistling bee to do battle with the plane controlled by the ant-men.”
And sure enough, even as he spoke, a huge orange and black insect winged
its way into the silver sky. The fight took place almost directly
overhead, and was a repetition of the two battles in which Cabot himself
had taken part near Saltona, while still a guest of the ant-men at
Wautoosa during the early part of his stay on the planet.
Both parties appeared to be adepts in the art of aerial warfare; but, of
course, the bee had only his sting and legs with which to defend
himself, whereas the plane had its fighting tail, its grapple hooks, and
at least one rifle. Given a fair deal, with only side-slips, spirals,
loop-the-loops and tailjabs, the bee would have had the advantage; but
what chance had he against explosive bullets? And so in due course of
time the bee was shot down, and fell screaming to the ground; while the
plane, evidently injured to some extent itself, retired again to the
southward.
The bee fell quite close to where the observers were stationed; and,
impelled by curiosity to see how badly it was damaged—for every
whistling bee remaining alive meant just one more obstacle to the air
fleet of the enemy—Hah and Cabot and their suits drew near to the
disabled creature, keeping their revolvers ready, however, lest it
should attack them.
Cabot’s radio headset had been working badly that morning, and now
apparently it began playing tricks upon him, for as he walked along he
thought he heard a very faint voice calling. “Cabot, Cabot, O Myles
Cabot!”
But as his radio was nondirectional, he could not tell whence seemed to
come the voice. He stopped and began to adjust the controls. Clearer and
yet more clear sounded the voice until, at the shortest wave length of
which his set was capable, entirely outside the range of Cupian
conversation, the sound became no longer a vague suggestion, but rather
an unmistakable voice, speaking the universal language of Poros:
“Cabot, Cabot, O Myles Cabot!”