"Master!" begged Alice.

"Be quiet!" said Janice.

Whereas rivalries among men can be serious and dangerous, the most that rivalries among slave girls can be is petty and vicious; that is to be expected; they are, after all, only small, lovely animals.

"I can please you more than she," said Alice.

"No, you cannot," said Janice.

"I can!" insisted Alice.

"No!" said Janice. Then she smiled. "If you are so pleasing," she said, "then why is it that it is you who are trussed and tethered like a domestic tarsk at the slave post and it is I who lie free by my master's side?"

Alice fought her bonds, and wept. Janice laughed.

"Do you think you are better than she?" I asked Janice.

"Am I not, Master?" she inquired.

"No," I said.

I then took a line and tied Janice's hands behind her back and threw her to her side at the slave post. By the free end of the line I tethered her, like Alice, to the post.

"Now see what you have done!" said Janice to Alice. "Now you have had us both tied!"

Alice did not seem displeased.

"Go to sleep now, Slaves," I told them.

"Yes, Master," said Alice.

"Yes, Master," said Janice, angrily.

"Are you angry?" I asked.

"No, Master," she said, quickly. "Please do not beat me."

"Slave," said Alice.

"Yes, slave," said Janice.

"I am a better slave than you," said Alice.

"No, you are not!" said Janice.

"Go to sleep," I said.

"Yes, Master," said Alice.

"Yes, Master," said Janice.

36

Wreckage; Again We Move Upriver

"There," said Ayari, pointing.

We put down the canoe we were carrying past the hurtling cataract.

We saw, shattered on rocks, the stern quarter of a river galley. Jagged planks, dry and hot, thrust up in the sunlight, and, lower, wedged in, pressed between rocks, wet and black, water foaming about it, was the stern itself with its splintered, side-hung rudder.

I waded out to it. There was nothing left in the wreckage.

"It could have been washed downriver for pasangs," said Ayari.

I nodded. Once before, long ago, we had recovered evidence of what had seemed to be another mishap on the river, a chest or crate of trade goods. We had managed to put them to good use. We had not seen wreckage, however. The chest, not lashed down properly, might have been jolted or washed overboard. Too, there might have been a capsizing. We had not seen wreckage, however. Shaba had not, at that time, as far as we knew, lost a galley.

I put my shoulder against the wreckage. I then put my back against it. I freed it, and, twisting, it plunged away, westward, downriver.

I returned to the rocks of the shore. Shaba now had but two galleys.

"It was wise of you to free it," said Kisu. He looked about. "The less evidence there is of strangers on the river the safer we shall all be."

I looked about, too, at the jungles. They seemed quiet, "Yes," I said. "But I would have freed it anyway."

"Why?" asked Kisu.

"It is what is left of a ship," I said. "It should be free."

How could I tell Kisu, who was of the land, of the feeling, of those who had known the waves of Thassa?

"You will not free me, will you, Master?" asked Janice.

"Kneel," I said.

She knelt.

"You are a woman," I said. "You will be kept as a slave." "Yes, Master," she said.

"Now pick up your burden," I said. She picked up her burden and held it on her head, with her two hands. "Straighten your back," I said.

"Yes, Master," she said.

I then, with Ayari and Kisu, lifted the canoe again, and again we moved upriver.

37

We Do Not Trade Tende

The chief, on his small stool, pointed at Tende. Kisu lifted beads before him, of purple glass, strung on wire. The chief shook his head, vigorously. He pointed again at Tende.

Tende knelt beside Kisu, her hands tied behind her back. In the weeks since her conversation with Janice she had become to him a superb love slave. This is hard for a woman to conceal. The chief's eyes glistened as he looked upon her.

Kisu shook his head, negatively.

In spite of the fact that Tende had now become to Kisu a superb love slave, he still kept her under the strictest security. Often she cried about this, but he was unrelenting. "I love you, Master," she would weep. "I love you!" But he continued to treat her unremittingly with the discipline and harshness commonly accorded a fresh capture, not with the authority and rough affection commonly given to a girl who is so enamored of her master that she can scarcely be beaten from his feet with whips. She would cry alone at night, secured to the slave post, until Kisu, by a word, or kick or blow, would silence her.

The chief again pointed at Tende.

Kisu again shook his head negatively.

"Let us go," said Ayari, nervously. "Yes," I said.

We rose to our feet and pushed through the villagers. The chief called out behind us. but we continued on. I thrust a man away.

We hurried to the canoe and, quickly, thrust it into the river.

What Ayari Thought He Saw In The Forest

Ayari returned to the campfire.

Suddenly he seemed startled. "Janice is here," he said.

"Yes," I said. Janice looked up at him, and Alice.

"What is it?" asked Kisu.

"I thought I saw her in the forest, a moment ago," he said. "Was she not gathering wood?"

"No," I said. I leaped to my feet. "Take me to where you think you saw her."

"It was there," said Ayari, a moment later, pointing to a space between trees.

We investigated the area. I crouched down and studied the ground in the moonlight. "I see no tracks," I said.

"Doubtless it was a trick of the lights and shadows," said Ayari.

"Doubtless," I said.

"Let us return to camp," he said.

"Yes," I said.

39

We Are Not Pursued

"There is a village on the right," said Ayari.

We had, in the past six days, passed two other villages. In these two other villages the men, with shields and spears, had rushed out to the, shore to threaten us. We had kept to the center of the river and had continued on.

"There are women and children on the bank," said Ayari.

"They are waving for us to come in."

"It is pleasant to see a friendly village," said Alice.

"Let us take the canoe in," said Ayari. "We can perhaps trade for fruit and vegetables and you can obtain information on he whom you seek, he called Shaba."

"It will be pleasant to sleep in a hut," said Janice. There is often a night rain in the jungle, occurring before the twentieth Ahn.

We moved the canoe in toward the shore.

"Where are the men?" I asked.

"Yes," said Kisu. "Where are the men?"

The canoe was now about forty yards from the shore. "Hold the paddles," said Ayari. "Stop paddling."

"They are behind the women!" I said.

"Turn the canoe," said Kisu, fiercely. "Hurry! Paddle!" Suddenly, seeing us turning about, the crowd of women and children parted. Streaming out from behind them, brandishing spears and shields, knives and pangas. crying out, plunging toward us in the water, were dozens of men.

Spears splashed in the water about us, bobbing under, then floating.

One man reached us, swimming, but I struck him back with the paddle.

"Paddle! Hurry!" said Kisu.

We looked behind us. But we did not see the men putting canoes into the river.