18 CIVILIZATION

Ellie did not faint nor grow hysterical. After that involuntary scream, her next remark was simply, "Max, I'm sorry. My fault."

The words were almost in his ear, so tightly were they tied together by the clinging ropes. He answered, "I'll get us loose!" and continued to strain at their bonds.

"Don't struggle," she said quietly, "It just makes them tighter. We'll have to talk our way out of this."

What she said was true; the harder he strained the tighter the pythonlike bonds held them. "Don't," Ellie pleaded. "You're making it worse. It's hurting me." Max desisted.

The largest centaur ambled up and looked them over. Its broad simple face was still more ludicrous close up and its large brown eyes held a look of gentle astonishment. The colt approached from the other side and sniffed curiously, bleated in a high voice. The adult bugled like an elk; the colt shied sideways, then rejoined the herd on a dead run.

"Take it easy," Ellie whispered. "I think they were scared that we would hurt the baby. Maybe they'll just look us over and let us go."

"Maybe. But I wish I could get at my knife."

"I'm glad you can't. This calls for diplomacy."

The rest of the herd came up, milled around and looked them over, while exchanging calls that combined bugling, whinnying, and something between a cough and a snort. Max listened. "That's language," he decided.

"Of course. And how I wish I had studied it at Miss Mimsey's."

The largest centaur leaned over them, smoothed at their bonds; they became looser but still held them. Max said sharply, "I think they are going to untie us. Get ready to run."

"Yes, boss."

Another centaur reached into its built-in pouch, took out another of the ropelike things. It dropped to its fore knees, flipped the end so that it curled around Max's left ankle. The end seemed to weld into a loop, hobbling Max as effectively as a bowline knot; Ellie was treated the same way. The biggest centaur then patted their bonds, which fell off and writhed gently on the ground. It picked them up and stuffed them into its pouch.

The centaur which had hobbled them wrapped the ends of their tethers around its upright trunk, they merged into a belt. After an exchange of sour bugle calls with the leader, it patted the leashes, ... which then stretched like taffy, becoming quite twenty feet long and much more slender. Max pressed his knife on Ellie and said, "Try to cut yourself loose. If you can, then run for it. I'll keep them busy."

"No, Max."

"Yes! Dawggone it, quit being a brat! You've made enough trouble."

"Yes, Max." She took the knife and tried to saw through the strange rope near her ankle. The centaurs made no attempt to stop her, but watched with the same air of gentle astonishment. It was as if they had never seen a knife, had no notion of what one was. Presently she gave up. "No good, Max. It's like trying to slice duraplastic."

"Why, I keep that knife like a razor. Let me try."

He had no better luck. He was forced to stop by the herd moving out--walk or be dragged. He managed to close the knife while hopping on one foot to save his balance. The group proceeded at a slow walk for a few steps, then the leader bugled and the centaurs broke into a trot, exactly like ancient cavalry.

Ellie stumbled at once and was dragged. Max sat down, managed to grab his hobble and hang on while shouting, "Hey! Stop!"

Their captor stopped and looked around almost apologetically. Max said, "Look, stupid. We can't keep up. We're not horses," while helping Ellie to her feet. "Are you hurt, kid?"

"I guess not." She blinked back tears. "If I could lay hands on that hay-burning oaf, he'd be hurt--plenty!"

"You skinned your hand."

"It won't kill me. Just tell him to slow down, will you?"

Seeing them on their feet the monster immediately started to trot again. Down they went again, with Max trying to drag them to a halt. This time the leader trotted back from the main herd and consulted their custodian. Max took part, making up in vehemence what he lacked in semantic efficiency.

Perhaps he was effective; their keeper slowed to a fast walk, letting the others go ahead. Another centaur dropped back and became a rear guard. One of the animated balloons, which had continued to hover over the herd, now drifted back and remained over Max and Ellie.

The pace was just bearable, between a fast walk and a dogtrot. The route led across the open, flat floor of the valley and through knee-high grass. The grass saved them somewhat, as the centaur leading them seemed to feel that a fall or two every few hundred yards represented optimum efficiency. He never seemed impatient and would stop and let them get up, but always started off again at a clip brisk for humans. Max and Ellie ceased trying to talk, their throats being burned dry by their panting efforts to keep up. A tiny stream meandered through the bottom of the valley; the centaur jumped easily across it. It was necessary for the humans to wade. Ellie paused in midstream, leaned down and started to drink. Max objected, "Ellie! Don't drink that--you don't know that it's safe."

"I hope it poisons me so I can lie down and die. Max, I can't go much farther."

"Chin up, kid. We'll get out of this. I've been keeping track of where we've gone." He hesitated, then drank also, being terribly thirsty. The centaur let them, then tugged them on.

It was as far again to the rising ground and forest on the other side. They had thought that they were as tired as they could be before they started up hill; they were mistaken. The centaur was agile as a goat and seemed surprised that they found it difficult. Finally Ellie collapsed and would not get up; the centaur came back and stirred her roughly with a three-toed hoof.

Max struck him with both fists. The centaur made no move to retaliate but looked at him with that same stupid astonishment. Their rear guard came up and conversed with it, after which they waited for perhaps ten minutes. Max sat down beside Ellie and said anxiously, "Feeling any better?"

"Don't talk."

Presently the guard edged between them and drove Max back by stepping on him, whereupon the other centaur tugged on Ellie's leash. It contracted and she was forced to scramble to her feet. The centaurs let them rest twice after that. After an endless time, when the local sun was dropping low in the west, they came out on flat table land, still heavily wooded. They continued through trees for a distance which Max's count of paces told him was under a mile but seemed like ten, then stopped.

They were in a semi-clearing, a space carpeted with fallen needles. Their guard came up to the other centaur and took from him the end of Max's leash, flipped it around the base of a tree, to which it clung. The other centaur did the same with Ellie's leash to another tree about forty feet away. Having done so, they roughly urged the two together, while stopping to stroke their bonds until they were stretched out very thin. It allowed Max and Ellie enough slack that they might have passed each other.

This did not seem to please the centaurs. One of them shifted Max's leash farther back into the surrounding bushes, dragging him with it. This time at the extreme limit allowed by their bonds they were about six feet apart. "What are they doing?" asked Ellie.

"Looks like they don't want us to combine forces."

Finished, the centaurs trotted away. Ellie looked after them, began to sob, then cried openly, tears running down her dirty face and leaving tracks. "Stow it," Max said harshly. "Sniffling will get us nowhere."

"I can't help it," she bawled. "I've been brave all day--at least I've tried to be. I ..." She collapsed face down and let herself go.

By getting down prone and stretching Max could just reach her head. He patted her tangled hair. "Take it easy, kid," he said softly. "Cry it out, if you'll feel better."