here with whom he could talk, the only ones with whom he had any interests in common. His judgment told him that Spike had been right when he said that they should work together. For the time being, then, he would put aside his just anger against them and throw his lot in with them in the hope that in some way they might be of service to Gonfala.
'They wants to know who you are an' where you comes from,' said Spike; 'an' I told 'em you come from a country a thousand times bigger than Athne an' that you was a juke or somethin', like their officers. They's one of 'em in here with us. See that big bloke over there standin' with his arms folded?' He pointed to a tall, fine looking fellow who had not come forward with the others. 'He's a toff, or I never seen one. He don't never have no truck with these scrubs; but he took a shine to Troll and me, an' is learnin' us his language.'
'I'd like to meet him,' said Wood, for his first interest now was to learn the language of these people into whose hands fate had thrown him.
'Awright, come on over. Ire ain't a bad bloke. He's wot they calls an elephant man. That's somethin' like bein' a juke at home. They had some sort of a revolution here a few months ago, an' killed off a lot of these here elephant men, wot didn't escape or join the revolutionists. But this bloke wasn't killed. They say it was because he was a good guy an' everybody liked him, even the revolutionists. He wouldn't join 'em; so they stuck him in here to do chamber work for the elephants. These here revolutionists is like the gangsters in your country. Anyway, they's a bad lot, always makin' trouble for decent people an' stealin' wot they ain't got brains enough to make for themselves. Well, here we are. Valthor, shake hands with my old friend Stanley Wood.'
Valthor looked puzzled, but he took Wood's outstretched hand.
'Cripes!' exclaimed Spike. 'I'm always forgettin' you don't know no English.' Then he couched the introduction in the bastard language he had picked up.
Valthor smiled and acknowledged the introduction.
'He says he's glad to meetcha,' translated Spike.
'Tell him it's fifty-fifty,' said the American, 'and ask him if he'll help me learn his language.'
When Spike had translated this speech Valthor smiled and nodded, and there immediately began an association that not only developed into a genuine friendship during the ensuing weeks but gave Wood a sufficient knowledge of the Athnean language to permit free intercourse with all with whom he came in contact.
During this time he worked with the other slaves in the great elephant stables of Phoros, the dictator who had usurped the crown of Athne after the revolution. The food was poor and insufficient, the work arduous, and the treatment he received harsh; for the officers who were put in charge of the slaves had been men of the lowest class prior to the revolution and found a vent for many an inhibition when they were given a little authority.
During all this time he heard nothing of the fate of Gonfala, for naturally little news of the palace reached the slaves in the stables. Whether she lived or not, he could not know; and this state of constant uncertainty and anxiety told even more heavily upon him than did the hardships he was forced to undergo.
'If she is beautiful,' Valthor had told him, 'I think you need have no fear for her life. We do not take the lives of beautiful women-even the Erythra would not do that.'
'Who are the Erythra?' asked Wood.
'The men who overthrew the government and placed Phoros on the throne of Zygo, king of Athne.'
'She is very beautiful,' said Wood. 'I wish to God she were not so beautiful.'
'Perhaps it will do her no harm. If I know Menofra, and I think I do, your friend will be safe from the attentions of Phoros at least; and if I know Phoros, he will not let any one else have her if she is very beautiful. He will always wait and hope-hope that something will happen to Menofra.'
'And who might Menofra be?'
'Above all else she is a she-devil for jealousy, and she is the wife of Phoros.'
This was slight comfort, but it was the best that was vouchsafed Wood. He could only wait and hope. There was little upon which to base a plan of action. Valthor had told him that there might be a counterrevolution to unseat Phoros and return Zygo to the throne; but in the slaves' compound there was little information upon which to base even a conjecture as to when, if ever, this might take place; as there was no means of communication between those confined there and Zygo's sympathizers in the city, while Zygo and most of his loyal nobles and retainers were hiding in the mountains to which they had escaped when revolution overwhelmed the city.
Among other duties that had fallen to the lot of Wood was the exercising of the elephant that was his particular charge. He had been chosen for this work, along with Valthor, Spike, and Troll, because of his greater intelligence than the ordinary run of slaves in the compound. He had learned quickly, and rode almost daily on the plain south of the city under a heavy escort of warriors.
They had returned to the stables one day from the field after the exercise period, which was always early in the morning, and were brushing and washing their huge mounts, when they were ordered to remount and ride out.
On the way to the plain they learned from the accompanying warriors that they were being sent out to capture a wild elephant that had been damaging the fields.
'They say he's a big brute and ugly,' offered one of the warriors, 'and if he's as bad as all that we won't all of us come back.'
'Under Zygo, the nobles rode out to capture wild elephants, not slaves,' said Valthor.
The warrior rode his mount closer to the Athnean noble. 'They are all too drunk to ride,' he said, lowering his voice. 'If they were just a little drunk they might ride. If they were not drunk at all they would not have the nerve. We warriors are sick of them. Most of us would like to ride again under real elephant men like your nobleness.'
'Perhaps you will,' said Valthor, '-if you have the nerve.'
'Hi-yah!' shouted a warrior ahead of them.
'They've sighted him,' Valthor explained to Wood, who was riding at his side.
Presently they too saw the quarry emerging from a bamboo forest at the edge of the plain.
Valthor whistled. 'He's a big brute, and if he's as ugly as they say we should have some real sport. But it's murder to send inexperienced slaves against him. Watch out for yourself, Wood. Just keep out of his way, no matter what the guards tell you to do. Make believe you can't control your elephant. Look at him! He's coming right for us. He's a bad one all right-not a bit afraid of us either, by Dyaus.'
'I never saw a larger one,' said Wood.
'Nor I,' admitted Valthor, 'though I've seen many an elephant in my time. He's got a blemish though-look at that tusk. It's much darker than the other. If it weren't for that he'd make a king's elephant all right.'
'What are we supposed to do?' asked Wood. 'I don't see how we could ever capture that fellow if he didn't want us to.'
'They'll have some females ridden close to him, and try to work him gently toward the city and into the big corral just inside the gate. Look at that, now!'
Up went the big elephant's trunk, and he trumpeted angrily. It was evident that he was about to charge. The officer in command shouted orders to the slaves to ride the females toward him, but the officer did not advance. Like the other three with him, he was an Erythros and not of the noble class. Not having their pride or their code of honor, he could order others into danger while he remained in comparative safety.
Some of the slaves moved forward, but with no great show of enthusiasm; then the great beast charged. He barged right through the line of advancing females, scattering them to right and left, and charged for the bull ridden by the officer in command.
Screaming commands, the officer sought to turn his mount and escape; but the bull he rode was a trained fighting elephant which knew little about running away; besides, his harem of cows was there; and he was not going to relinquish that to any strange bull without a battle; so, torn between his natural inclinations and his habit of obedience to the commands of his rider, he neither faced the oncoming bull nor turned tail toward him; but swung half way around, broadside, in his indecision. And in this position the great stranger struck him with almost the momentum of a locomotive run amok.
Down he went, pitching the officer heavily to the ground; but the fellow was up instantly and running-by far the stupidest thing he could have done; for almost any animal will pursue a thing that flees.
Hoarse screams for help mingled with the trumpeting of the wild bull as the latter bore down upon his fleeing victim. Valthor urged the female he rode into a trot in an effort to head off the charge and distract the bull's attention, and Wood followed behind him; just why, he could not have explained.
Valthor was too late. The bull overtook the terrified man, tossed him three times, and then trampled him into
