seemed to have been blasted and burned by lightning. It reared its head
some ten feet above the ground and from its charred surface protruded
the stub end of several broken limbs.
“Follow me,” said Balal, and leaping to the protruding stub, he climbed
to the top of the stump and lowered himself into the interior.
Tanar followed and found an opening some three feet in diameter leading
down into the bole of the dead tree. Set into the sides of this natural
shaft were a series of heavy pegs, which answered the purpose of ladder
rungs to the descending Balal.
The noonday sun lighted the interior of the tree for a short distance,
but their own shadows, intervening, blotted out everything that lay at a
depth greater than six or eight feet.
None too sure that he was not being led into a trap and, therefore,
unwilling to permit his guide to get beyond his reach, Tanar hastily
entered the hollow stump and followed Balal downward.
The Sarian was aware that the interior of the tree led into a shaft dug
in the solid ground and a moment later he felt his feet touch the floor
of a dark tunnel.
Along this tunnel Balal led him and presently they emerged into a cave
that was dimly lighted through a small opening opposite them and near
the floor.
Through this aperture, which was about two feet in diameter and beyond
which Tanar could see daylight, Balal crawled, followed closely by the
Sarian, who found himself upon a narrow ledge, high up on the face of an
almost vertical cliff.
“This,” said Balal, “is the village of Garb.”
“I see no village nor any people,” said Tanar.
“They are here though,” said Balal. “Follow me,” and he led the way a
short distance along the ledge, which inclined downward and was in
places so narrow and so shelving that the two men were compelled to
flatten themselves against the side of the cliff and edge their way
slowly, inch by inch, sideways.
Presently the ledge ended and here it was much wider so that Balal could
lie down upon it, and, lowering his body over the edge, he clung a
moment by his hands and then dropped.
Tanar looked over the edge and saw that Balal had alighted upon another
narrow ledge about ten feet below. Even to a mountaineer, such as the
Sarian was, the feat seemed difficult and fraught with danger, but there
was no alternative and so, lying down, he lowered himself slowly over
the edge of the ledge, clung an instant with his fingers, and then
dropped.
As he alighted beside the youth he was about to remark upon the perilous
approach to the village of Garb, but it was so apparent that Balal took
it as a matter of course and thought nothing of it that Tanar desisted,
realizing, in the instant, that among cliff dwellers, such as these, the
little feat that they had just accomplished was as ordinary and everyday
an occurrence as walking on level ground was to him.
As Tanar had an opportunity to look about him on this new level, he saw,
and not without relief, that the ledge was much wider and that the
mouths of several caves opened upon it. In places, and more especially
in front of the cave entrances, the ledge widened to as much as six or
eight feet, and here Tanar obtained his first view of any considerable
number of Himeans.
“Is it not a wonderful village?” asked Balal, and without waiting for an
answer, “Look!” and he pointed downward over the edge of the ledge.
Following the direction indicated by the youth, Tanar saw ledge after
ledge scoring the face of a lofty cliff from summit to base, and upon
every ledge there were men, women and children.
“Come,” said Balal, “I will take you to my father,” and forthwith he led
the way along the ledge.
As the first people they encountered saw Tanar they leaped to their
feet, the men seizing their weapons. “I am taking him to my father, the
chief,” said Balal. “Do not harm him,” and with sullen looks the
warriors let them pass.
A log into which wooden pegs were driven served as an easy means of
descent from one ledge to the next, and after descending for a
considerable distance to about midway between the summit and the ground
Balal halted at the entrance to a cave, before which sat a man, a woman
and two children, a girl about Balal’s age and a boy much younger.
As had all the other villagers they had passed, these, too, leaped to
their feet and seized weapons when they saw Tanar.
“Do not harm him,” repeated Balal. “I have brought him to you, Scurv, my
father, because he saved my life when it was threatened simultaneously
by a snake and a wolf and I promised him that you would receive him and
treat him well.”
Scurv eyed Tanar suspiciously and there was no softening of the lines
upon his sullen countenance even when he heard that the stranger had
saved the life of his son. “Who are you and what are you doing in our
country?” he demanded.
“I am looking for one named Jude,” replied Tanar.
“What do you know of Jude?” asked Scurv. “Is he your friend?”
There was something in the man’s tone that made it questionable as to
the advisability of claiming Jude as a friend. “I know him,” he said.
“We were prisoners together among the Coripies on the island of
Amiocap.”
“You are an Amiocapian?” demanded Scurv.
“No,” replied Tanar, “I am a Sarian from a country on a far distant
mainland.”
“Then what were you doing on Amiocap?” asked Scurv.
“I was captured by the Korsars and the ship in which they were taking me
to their country was wrecked on Amiocap. All that I ask of you is that
you give me food and show me where I can find Jude.”
“I do not know where you can find Jude,” said Scurv. “His people and my
people are always at war.”
“Do you not know where their country or village is?” demanded Tanar.
“Yes, of course I know where it is, but I do not know that Jude is
there.”
“Are you going to give him food,” asked Balal, “and treat him well as I
promised you would?”
“Yes,” said Scurv, but his tone was sullen and his shifty eyes looked
neither at Balal nor Tanar as he replied.
In the center of the ledge, opposite the mouth of the cave, a small fire
was burning beneath an earthen bowl, which was supported by three or
four small pieces of stone. Squatting close to this was a female, who,
in youth, might have been a fine looking girl, but now her face was
lined by bitterness and hate as she glared sullenly into the caldron,
the contents of which she was stirring with the rib of some large
animal.
“Tanar is hungry, Sloo,” said Balal, addressing the woman. “When will
the food be cooked?”
“Have I not enough to do preparing hides and cooking food for all of you
without having to cook for every enemy that you see fit to bring to the
cave of your father?”
“This is the first time I ever brought any one, mother,” said Balal.
“Let it be the last, then,” snapped the woman.
“Shut up, woman,” snapped Scurv, “and hasten with the food.”
The woman leaped to her feet, brandishing the rib above her head. “Don’t
tell me what to do, Scurv,” she shrilled. “I have had about enough of
you anyway.”
“Hit him, mother!” screamed a lad of about eleven, jumping to his feet
and dancing about in evident joy and excitement.
Balal leaped across the cook fire and struck the lad heavily with his
open palm across the face, sending him spinning up against the cliff
wall. “Shut up, Dhung,” he cried, “or I’ll pitch you over the edge.”
The remaining member of the family party, a girl, just ripening into
womanhood, remained silent where she was seated, leaning against the
face of the cliff, her large, dark eyes taking in the scene being
enacted before her. Suddenly the woman, turned upon her. “Why don’t you
do something, Gura?” she demanded. “You sit there and let them attack me
and never raise a hand in my defense.”
“But no one has attacked you, mother,” said the girl, with a sigh.
“But I will,” yelled Scurv, seizing a short club that lay beside him.
“I’ll knock her head off if she doesn’t keep a still tongue in it and
hurry with that food.” At this instant a loud scream attracted the
attention of all toward another family group before a cave, a little
further along the ledge. Here, a man, grasping a woman by her hair, was
beating her with a stick, while several children were throwing pieces of
rock, first at their parents and then at one another.
“Hit her again!” yelled Scurv.
“Scratch out his eyes!” screamed Sloo, and for the moment the family of
the chief forgot their own differences in the enjoyable spectacle of
another family row.
Tanar looked on in consternation and surprise. Never had he witnessed
such tumult and turmoil in the villages of the Sarians, and coming, as
he just had, from Amiocap, the island of love, the contrast was even
more appalling.
“Don’t mind them,” said Balal, who was watching the Sarian and had
noticed the expression of surprise and disgust upon his face. “If you
stay with us long you will get used to it, for it is always like this.
Come on, let’s eat, the food is ready,” and drawing his stone knife he
fished into the pot and speared a piece of meat.
Tanar, having no knife, had recourse to one of his arrows, which
answered the purpose quite as well, and then, one by one, the family
gathered around as though nothing unusual had happened, and fell, too,
upon the steaming stew with avidity.
During the meal they did not speak other than to call one another vile
names, if two chanced to reach into the caldron simultaneously and one
interfered with another.
The caldron emptied, Scurv and Sloo crawled into the dark interior of
their cave to sleep, where they were presently followed by Balal.
Gura, the daughter, took the caldron and started down the cliff toward
the brook to wash out the receptacle and return with it filled with
water.
As she made her precarious way down rickety ladders and narrow ledges,
little Dhung, her brother, amused himself by hurling stones at her.
“Stop that,” commanded Tanar. “You might hit her.”
“That is what I am trying to do,” said the little imp. “Why else should
I be throwing stones at her? To miss her?” He hurled another missile and
with that Tanar grabbed him by the scruff of the neck.
Instantly Dhung let out a scream that might have been heard in Amiocap—a
scream that brought Sloo rushing from the cave.
“He is killing me,” shrieked Dhung, and at that the cave woman turned
upon Tanar with flashing eyes and a face distorted with rage.
“Wait,” said Tanar, in a calm voice. “I was not hurting the child. He
was hurling rocks at his sister and I stopped him.”
“What business have you to stop him?” demanded Sloo. “She is his sister,
he has a right to hurl rocks at her if he chooses.”
“But he might have struck her, and if he had she would have fallen to
her death below.”
“What if she did? That is none of your business,” snapped Sloo, and
grabbing Dhung by his long hair she cuffed his ears and dragged him into
the interior of the cave, where for a long time Tanar could hear blows
and screams, mingled with the sharp tongue of Sloo and the curses of
Scurv.
But finally these died down to silence, permitting the sounds of other
domestic brawls from various parts of the cliff village to reach the
ears of the disgusted Sarian.
Far below him Tanar saw the girl, Gura, washing the earthenware vessel
in a little stream, after which she filled it with fresh water and
lifted the heavy burden to her head. He wondered at the ease with which
she carried the great weight and was at a loss to know how she intended
to scale the precipitous cliff and the rickety, makeshift ladders with
her heavy load. Watching her progress with considerable interest he saw
her ascend the lowest ladder, apparently with as great ease and agility
as though she was unburdened. Up she came, balancing the receptacle with
no evident effort.
As he watched her he saw a man ascending also, but several ledges higher
than the girl. The fellow came swiftly and noiselessly to the very ledge
where Tanar stood. Paying no attention to the Sarian, he slunk
cautiously along the ledge to the mouth of the cave next to that of
Scurv. Drawing his stone knife from his loin cloth he crept within, and
a moment later Tanar heard the sounds of screams and curses and then two
men rolled from the mouth of the cave, locked in a deadly embrace. One
of them was the fellow whom Tanar had just seen enter the cave. The
other was a younger man and smaller and less powerful than his
antagonist. They were slashing desperately at one another with their
stone knives, but the duel seemed to be resulting in more noise than
damage.
At this juncture, a woman came running from the cave. She was armed with
the leg bone of a thag and with this she sought to belabor the older
man, striking vicious blows at his head and body.
This attack seemed to infuriate the fellow to the point of madness, and,
rather than incapacitating him, urged him on to redoubled efforts.
Presently he succeeded in grasping the knife hand of his opponent and an
instant later he had driven his own blade into the heart of his
opponent.
With a scream of anguish the woman struck again at the older man’s head,
but she missed her target and her weapon was splintered on the stone of
the ledge. The victor leaped to his feet and seizing the body of his
opponent hurled it over the cliff, and then grabbing the woman by the
hair he dragged her about, shrieking and cursing, as he sought for some
missile wherewith to belabor her.
As Tanar stood watching the disgusting spectacle he became aware that
someone was standing beside him and, turning, he saw that Gura had
returned. She stood there straight as an arrow, balancing the water
vessel upon her head.
“It is terrible,” said Tanar, nodding toward the battling couple.
Gura shrugged indifferently. “It is nothing,” she said. “Her mate
returned unexpectedly. That is all.”
“You mean,” asked Tanar, “that this fellow is her mate and that the
other was not?”
“Certainly,” said Gura, “but they all do it. What can you expect where
there is nothing but hate,” and walking to the entrance to her father’s
cave she set the water vessel down within the shadows just inside the
entrance. Then she sat down and leaned her back against the cliff,
paying no more attention to the matrimonial difficulties of her
neighbor.
Tanar, for the first time, noticed the girl particularly. He saw that
she had neither the cunning expression that characterized Jude and all
of the other Himeans he had seen; nor were there the lines of habitual
irritation and malice upon her face; instead it reflected an innate
sadness and he guessed that she looked much like her mother might have
when she was Gura’s age.
Tanar crossed the ledge and sat down beside her. “Do your people always
quarrel thus?” he asked.
“Always,” replied Gura.
“Why?” he asked.
“I do not know,” she replied. “They take their mates for life and are
permitted but one and though both men and women have a choice in the
selection of their mates they never seem to be satisfied with one
another and are always quarreling, usually because neither one nor the
other is faithful. Do the men and women quarrel thus in the land from
which you come?”
“No,” replied Tanar. “They do not. If they did they would be thrown out
of the tribe.”
“But suppose that they find that they do not like one another?” insisted
the girl.
“Then they do not live together,” replied Tanar. “They separate and if
they care to they find other mates.”
“That is wicked,” said Gura. “We would kill any of our people who did
such a thing.”
Tanar shrugged and laughed.
“At least we are all a very happy people,” he said, “which is more than
you can say for yourselves, and, after all, happiness, it seems to me,
is everything.”
The girl thought for some time, seemingly studying an idea that was new
to her.
“Perhaps you are right,” she said, presently. “Nothing could be worse
than the life that we live. My mother tells me that it was not thus in
her country, but now she is as bad as the rest.”
“Your mother is not a Himean?” asked Tanar.
“No, she is from Amiocap. My father captured her there when she was
young.”
“That accounts for the difference,” mused Tanar.
“What difference?” she asked. “What do you mean?”
“I mean that you are not like the others, Gura,” he replied. “You
neither look like them nor act like them—neither you nor your brother,
Balal.”
“Our mother is an Amiocapian,” she replied. “Perhaps we inherited
something from her and then again, and most important, we are young and,
as yet, have no mates. When that time comes we shall grow to be like the
others, just as our mother has grown to be like them.”
“Do many of your men take their mates from Amiocap?” asked Tanar.
“Many try to, but few succeed for as a rule they are driven away or
killed by the Amiocapian warriors. They have a landing place upon the
coast of Amiocap in a dark cave beneath a high cliff and of ten Himean
warriors who land there scarce one returns, and he not always with an
Amiocapian mate. There is a tribe living along our coast that has grown
rich by crossing to Amiocap and bringing back the canoes of the
warriors, who have crossed for mates and have died at the hands of the
Amiocapian warriors.”
For a few moments she was silent, absorbed in thought. “I should like to
go to Amiocap,” she mused, presently.
“Why?” asked Tanar.
“Perhaps I should find there a mate with whom I might be happy,” she
said.
Tanar shook his head sadly. “That is impossible, Gura,” he said.
“Why?” she demanded. “Am I not beautiful enough for the Amiocapian
warriors?”
“Yes,” he replied, “you are very beautiful, but if you went to Amiocap
they would kill you.”
“Why?” she demanded again.
“Because, although your mother is an Amiocapian, your father is not,”
explained Tanar.
“That is their law?” asked Gura, sadly.
“Yes,” replied Tanar.
“Well,” she said with a sigh, “then I suppose I must remain here and
seek a mate whom I shall learn to hate and bring children into the world
who will hate us both.”
“It is not a pleasant outlook,” said Tanar.
“No,” she said, and then after a pause, “unless—”
“Unless, what?” asked the Sarian.
“Nothing,” said Gura.
For a time they sat in silence, each occupied with his own thoughts,
Tanar’s being filled to the exclusion of all else by the face and figure
of Stellara.
Presently the girl looked up at him. “What are you going to do after you
find Jude?” she asked.
“I am going to kill him,” replied Tanar.
“And then?” she queried.
“I do not know,” said the Sarian. “If I find the one whom I believe to
be with Jude we shall try to return to Amiocap.”
“Why do you not remain here?” asked Gura. “I wish that you would.”
Tanar shuddered. “I would rather die,” he said.
“I do not blame you much,” said the girl, “but I believe there is a way
in which you might be happy even in Hime.”
“How?” asked Tanar.
Gura did not answer and he saw tears come to her eyes. Then she arose
hurriedly and entered the cave.
Tanar thought that Scurv would never be done with his sleep. He wanted
to talk to him and arrange for a guide to the village of Jude, but it
was Sloo who first emerged from the cave.
She eyed him sullenly. “You still here?” she demanded.
“I am waiting for Scurv to send a guide to direct me to the village of
Jude,” replied the Sarian. “I shall not remain here an instant longer
than is necessary.”
“That will be too long,” growled Sloo, and turning on her heels she
reëntered the cave.
Presently Balal emerged, rubbing his eyes. “When will Scurv send me on
my way?” demanded Tanar.
“I do not know,” replied the youth. “He has just awakened. When he comes
out you should speak to him about it. He has just sent me to fetch the
skin of the codon you killed. He was very angry to think that I left it
lying in the forest.”
After Balal departed, Tanar sat with his own thoughts for a long while.
Presently Gura came from the cave. She appeared frightened and excited.
She came close to Tanar and, kneeling, placed her lips close to his ear.
“You must escape at once,” she said, in a low whisper. “Scurv is going
to kill you. That is why he sent Balal away.”
“But why does he want to kill me?” demanded Tanar. “I saved the life of
his son and I have only asked that he direct me to the village of Jude.”
“He thinks Sloo is in love with you,” explained Gura, “for when he
awakened she was not in the cave. She was out here upon the ledge with
you.”
Tanar laughed. “Sloo made it very plain to me that she did not like me,”
he said, “and wanted me to be gone.”
“I believe you,” said Gura, “but Scurv, filled with suspicion and hatred
and a guilty conscience, is anxious to believe anything bad that he can
of Sloo, and as he does not wish to be convinced that he is wrong it
stands to reason that nothing can convince him, so that your only hope
is in flight.”
“Thank you, Gura,” said Tanar. “I shall go at once.”
“No, that will not do,” said the girl. “Scurv is coming out here
immediately. He would miss you, possibly before you could get out of
sight, and in a moment he could muster a hundred warriors to pursue you,
and furthermore you have no proper weapons with which to start out in
search of Jude.”
“Perhaps you have a better plan, then,” said Tanar.
“I have,” said the girl. “Listen! Do you see where the stream enters the
jungle,” and she pointed across the clearing at the foot of the cliff
toward the edge of a dark forest.
“Yes,” said Tanar, “I see.”
“I shall descend now and hide there in a large tree beside the stream.
When Scurv comes out, tell him that you saw a deer there and ask him to
loan you weapons, so that you may go and kill it. Meat is always welcome
and he will postpone his attack upon you until you have returned with
the carcass of your kill, but you will not return. When you enter the
forest I shall be there to direct you to the village of Jude.”
“Why are you doing this, Gura?” demanded Tanar.
“Never mind about that,” said the girl. “Only do as I say. There is no
time to lose as Scurv may come out from the cave at any moment,” and
without further words she commenced the descent of the cliff face.
Tanar watched her as, with the agility and grace of a chamois, the girl,
oftentimes disdaining ladders, leaped lightly from ledge to ledge.
Almost before he could realize it she was at the bottom of the cliff and
moving swiftly toward the forest beyond, the foliage of which had
scarcely closed about her when Scurv emerged from the cave. Directly
behind him were Sloo and Dhung, and Tanar saw that each carried a club.
“I am glad you came out now,” said Tanar, losing no time, for he sensed
that the three were bent upon immediate attack.
“Why?” growled Scurv.
“I just saw a deer at the edge of the forest. If you will let me take
weapons, perhaps I can repay your hospitality by bringing you the
carcass.”
Scurv hesitated, his stupid mind requiring time to re-adjust itself and
change from one line of thought to another, but Sloo was quick to see
the advantage of utilizing the unwelcome guest and she was willing to
delay his murder until he had brought back his kill. “Get weapons,” she
said to Dhung, “and let the stranger fetch the deer.”
Scurv scratched his head, still in a quandary, and before he had made up
his mind one way or the other, Dhung reappeared with a lance and a stone
knife, which, instead of handing to Tanar, he threw at him, but the
Sarian caught the weapons, and, without awaiting further permission,
clambered down the ladder to the next ledge and from thence downward to
the ground. Several of the villagers, recognizing him as a stranger,
sought to interfere with him, but Scurv, standing upon the ledge high
above watching his descent, bellowed commands that he be left alone, and
presently the Sarian was crossing the open towards the jungle.
Just inside the concealing verdure of the forest he was accosted by
Gura, who was perched upon the limb of a tree above him.
“Your warning came just in time, Gura,” said the man, “for Scurv and
Sloo and Dhung came out almost immediately, armed and ready to kill me.”
“I knew that they would,” she said, “and I am glad that they will be
disappointed, especially Dhung—the little beast! He begged to be allowed
to torture you.”
“It does not seem possible that he can be your brother,” said Tanar.
“He is just like Scurv’s mother,” said the girl. “I knew her before she
was killed. She was a most terrible old woman, and Dhung has inherited
all of her venom and none of the kindly blood of the Amiocapians, which
flows in the veins of my mother, despite the change that her horrid life
has brought over her.”