'And where is your country, Thenar?' asked the ape-man.
'Just beyond the hills east of Onthar. Do you see where the river and the road cut through the forest about five miles above the city? You can see them entering the hills just beyond the forest.'
'Yes,' replied Tarzan, 'I see.'
'The road and the river run through the Pass of the Warriors into the valley of Thenar : a little north-east of the centre of the valley lies Athne the city of ivory. There, beyond the pass, is my country.
'How far are we from Athne?' inquired Tarzan.
'About twenty-five miles, possibly a little less,' replied Valthor.
'We might as well start now, then,' suggested the ape-man, 'for in this rain it will be more comfortable to be on the march than to lie up until morning, and in your city we can find a dry place to sleep, I presume.'
'Certainly,' replied Valthor, 'but it will not be safe to attempt to cross Onthar by daylight. We should certainly be seen by the sentries on the gates of Cathne, and, as these people are our enemies, the chances are that we should never cross the valley without being either killed or taken prisoners.'
'Whatever you wish,' agreed Tarzan with a shrug; 'it is all the same to me if we start now or wait until dark.'
'It is not very comfortable here,' remarked the Athnean. 'The rain is cold.'
'I have been uncomfortable before,' replied Tarzan; ''rains do not last forever.''
'If we were in Athne we should be very comfortable,' sighed Valthor. 'In my father's house there are fireplaces. Even now the flames are roaring about great logs, and all is warmth and comfort.'
'Above the clouds the sun is shining,' replied Tarzan, 'but we are not above the clouds. We are here where the sun is not shining and there is no fire, and we are cold.' A faint smile touched his lips. 'It does not warm me to speak of fires or the sun.'
'Nevertheless, I wish I were in Athne,' insisted Valthor. 'It is a splendid city, and Thenar is a lovely valley. In Thenar we raise goats and sheep and elephants. In Thenar there are no lions except those that stray in from Onthar; those we kill. Our farmers raise vegetables and fruits and hay; our artisans manufacture leather goods. They make cloth from the hair of goats and the wool of sheep. Our carvers work in ivory and wood.
'We trade a little with the outside world, paving for what we buy with ivory and gold. Were it not for the Cathneans we should lead a happy, peaceful life without a care.
'What do you buy from the outside world, and of whom do you buy it?' asked Tarzan.
'We buy salt, of which we have none of our own', explained Valthor. 'We also buy steel for our weapons.'
These things we buy from a band of Shiftas. With this same band we have traded since before the memory of man. Shifta chiefs and kings of Athne have come and gone, but our relations with this band have never altered. I was searching for them when I became lost and was captured by another band.'
'Do you never trade with the people of Cathne?' asked the ape-man.
'Once each year there is a week's truce during which we trade with them in peace. They give us gold and foodstuffs and hay in exchange for the salt and the steel we buy from the Shiftas, and the cloth, leather, and ivory that we produce.
'Besides mining gold, the Cathneans breed lions for war and sport, raise fruits, vegetables, cereals, and hay, and work in gold and, to a lesser extent, in ivory. Their gold and their hay are the products most valuable to us, and of these we value the hay more, for without it we should have to decrease our elephant herds.'
'Why should two peoples so dependent upon one another fight?' asked Tarzan.
Yalthor shrugged. 'I do not know; perhaps it is just a custom. Yet, though we talk much of wanting peace, we should miss the thrills and excitement that peace does not hold.' His eyes brightened. 'The raids:' he exclaimed. 'There is a sport for men The Cathneans come with their lions to hunt our goats, our sheep, our elephants, and us. When we wish sport we go into Onthar after gold. No, I do not think that either we or Cathneans would care for peace.'
For some time the two talked. Valthor told of his life in Athne. And as Valthor talked, the invisible sun sank ower into the west; heavy clouds, dark and ominous, hid the peaks to the north, settling low over the upper end of the valley. 'I think we may start now,' Valthor said.
'It will soon be dark.'
Downward through a gully, the sides of which hid them from the city of Cathne , the two men made their way towards the floor of the valley. From the heavy storm clouds burst a flash of lightning followed by the roar of thunder; upon the upper end of the valley the storm god loosed his wrath; water fell in a deluge, wiping from their sight the hills beyond the storm.
By the time they reached level ground the storm was upon them and the gully they had descended a raging mountain torrent. The swift night had fallen; utter darkness surrounded them, darkness frequently broken by vivid flashes of lightning. The pealing of the constant thunder was deafening. The rain engulfed them in solid sheets like the waves of the ocean. It was, perhaps, the most terrific storm that either of these men had ever seen.
They could not converse; only the lightning prevented their becoming separated, as it alone permitted Valthor to keep his course across the grassy floor of the valley in the direction of the city of gold, where they would find the road that led to the Pass of the Warriors and on into the valley of Thenar.
Presently they came within sight of the lights of the city, a few dim lights framed by the casements of windows, and a moment later they were on the road and were moving northward against the full fury of the storm.
For miles they pitted their muscles against the Herculean strength of the storm god. The rage of the storm god seemed to rise against them, knowing no bounds, as though he was furious that these two puny mortals should pit their strength against his. Suddenly, as though in a last titanic effort to overcome them, the lightning burst into a rrizh ty blaze that illuminated the entire valley for seconds, the thunder crashed as it had never crashed before, and a mass of water fell that crushed the two men to earth.
As they staggered to their feet again, foot-deep water swirled about their legs; they stood in a broad, racing torrent that rushed past them towards the river. But in that last effort the storm god had spent his force. The rain ceased; through a rift in the dark clouds the moon looked down, perhaps in wonder, upon a drowned world, and Valthor led the way again towards the Pass of the Warriors. The last of the rainy season was over.
It is seven miles from the bridge of gold, that is the gateway to the city of Cathne , to the ford where the road to Thenar crosses the river. It required three hours for Valthor and Tarzan to cover the distance, but at last they stood at the river's bank.
A boiling flood confronted them, tearing down a widened river towards the city of Cathne . Valthor hesitated. 'Ordinarily,' he said to Tarzan, 'the water is little more than a foot deep. It must be three feet deep now.
'And it will soon be deeper,' commented the ape-man.
'Only a small portion of the storm waters have had time to reach this point from the hills and the upper valley. If we are going to cross tonight, we shall have to do it now.
'Very well,' replied Valthor, 'but follow me; I know the ford.'
As the Athnean stepped into the water, the clouds closed again beneath the moon and plunged the world once more into darkness. As Tarzan followed he could scarcely see his guide ahead of him, and since Valthor knew the ford he moved more rapidly than the ape-man with the result that presently Tarzan could not see him at all, but he felt his way towards the opposite bank without thought of disaster.
The force of the stream was mighty, but mighty, too, are the thews of Tarzan of the Apes. The water, which Valthor had thought to be three feet in depth, was soon surging to the ape-man's waist, and then he missed the ford and stepped into a hole. Instantly the current seized him and swept him away; not even the giant muscles of Tarzan could cope with the might of the flood.
The Lord of the Jungle fought the swirling waters in an effort to reach the opposite shore, but in their embrace he was powerless.
Finding even his great strength powerless and weakening, Tarzan gave up the struggle to reach the opposite bank and devoted his efforts to keeping his nose above the surface of the angry flood. Even this was none too easy an accomplishment, as the rushing waters had a trick of twisting him about or turning him over. Often his head was submerged, and sometimes he floated feet first and sometimes head first, but he tried to rest his muscles as best he could against the time when some vagary of the torrent might carry him within reach of the bank upon one side or the other.
