intelligent eyes, the alluring contours of her cheek, her neck, and her small, firm breasts. He decided that she was very much better looking than his first glance had suggested.
Suddenly she turned upon him. 'If you watch my hands and the tools you will learn more quickly,' she said.
Von Horst laughed. 'But nothing half so pleasant,' he assured her.
'If you wish to do poor work and get beaten, that is your own affair.'
'Watch me,' he invited. 'See if I have not improved already just from watching your profile.'
With his stone chisel and mallet he commenced to chip away at the soft chalk; then, after a moment, he turned to her again. 'How is that?' he demanded.
'Well,' she admitted reluctantly, 'it is better; but it will have to be much better. When you have been here as long as I have, you will have learned that it is best to do good work.'
'You have been here long?' he asked.
'For so many sleeps that I have lost count. And you?'
'I just came.'
The girl smiled. 'Came! You mean that you were just brought.'
Von Horst shook his head. 'Like a fool, I came. Skruf told us that we would be well received, that his people would treat us as friends. He lied to us.'
'Skruf!' The girl shuddered. 'Skruf is a coward and a liar; but it is well for me that he is a coward. Otherwise he might bring the head of a tarag and place it before the entrance to the cave where I sleep.'
Von Horst opened his eyes in astonishment. 'You are La-ja, then?' he demanded.
'I am La-ja, but how did you know?' In her musical tones her name was very lovely—the broad a's, the soft j, and the accent on the last syllable.
'A guard said that Frug had told Skruf that he might have you if he brought the head of a tarag. I recalled the name; perhaps because it is so lovely a name.'
She ignored the compliment. 'I am still safe, then,' she said, 'for that great coward would run from a tarag.'
'He did,' said von Horst, 'but he brought the head of the beast back to Basti with him.'
The girl looked horrified and then skeptical. 'You are trying to tell me that Skruf killed a tarag?' she demanded.
'I am trying to tell you nothing of the sort. Dangar and I killed it; but Skruf cut off its head and brought it with him, taking the credit.'
'He'll never have me!' exclaimed La-ja tensely. 'Before that, I'll destroy myself.'
'Isn't there something else you can do? Can't you refuse to accept him?'
'If I were not a slave, I could; but Frug has promised me to him; and, being a slave, I have nothing to say in the matter.'
Von Horst suddenly felt a keen personal interest—just why, it would have been difficult for him to explain. Perhaps it was the man's natural reaction to the plight of a defenseless girl; perhaps her great beauty had something to do with it. But whatever the cause, he wanted to help her.
'Isn't there any possibility of escape?' he asked. 'Can't we get out of here after dark? Dangar and I would help you and go with you.'
'After dark?' she asked. 'After what is dark?'
Von Horst grinned ruefully. 'I keep forgetting,' he said.
'Forgetting what?'
'That it is never dark here.'
'It is dark in the caves,' she said.
'In my country it is dark half the time. While it is dark, we sleep; it is light between sleeps.'
'How strange!' she exclaimed. 'Where is your country, and how can it ever be dark? The sun shines always. No one ever heard of such a thing as the sun's ceasing to shine.'
'My country is very far away, in a different world. We do not have the same sun that you have. Some time I will try to explain it to you.'
'I thought you were not like any man I had ever seen before. What is your name?'
'Von,' he said.
'Von—yes, that is a strange name, too.'
'Stranger than Skruf or Frug?' he asked, grinning.
'Why, yes; there is nothing strange about those names.'
'If you heard all of my name, that might sound strange to you.'
'Is there more than Von?'
'Very much more.'
'Tell it to me.'
'My name is Frederich Wilhelm Eric von Mendeldorf und von Horst.'
'Oh, I could never say all that. I think I like Von.'
He wondered why he had told her that Frederich Wilhelm Eric von Mendeldorf und von Horst was his name. Of course he had used it for so long that it seemed quite natural to him; but now that he was no longer in Germany, perhaps it was senseless to continue with it. Yet what difference did it make in the inner world? Von was an easy name to pronounce, an easy one to remember—Von he would continue to be, then.
Presently the girl yawned. 'I am sleepy,' she said. 'I shall go to my cave and sleep. Why do you not sleep at the same time; then we shall be awake at the same time, and—why, I can show you about your work.'
'That's a good idea,' he exclaimed, 'but will they let me sleep now? I just started to work.'
'They let us sleep whenever we wish to, but when we awaken we have to come right back to work. The women sleep in a cave by themselves, and there is a Basti woman to watch them and see that they get to work as soon as they are awake. She is a terrible old thing.'
'Where do I sleep?' he asked.
'Come, I'll show you. It is the cave next to the women's.'
She led the way out onto the ledge and along it to the mouth of another cave. 'Here is where the men sleep,' she said. 'The next cave is where I sleep.'
'What are you doing out here?' demanded a guard.
'We are going to sleep,' replied La-ja.
The man nodded; and the girl went on to her cave, while von Horst entered that reserved for the men slaves. He found a number of them asleep on the hard floor, and was soon stretched out beside Dangar, who had accompanied them.
How long he slept, von Horst did not know. He was awakened suddenly by loud shouting apparently directly outside the entrance to the cave. At first he did not grasp the meaning of the words he heard; but presently, after a couple of repetitions, he was thoroughly awake; and then he grasped their full import and recognized the voice of the speaker.
It was Skruf; and he was shouting, over and over, 'Come out, La-ja! Skruf has brought you the head of a tarag. Now you belong to Skruf.'
Von Horst leaped to his feet and stepped out onto the ledge. There, before the entrance to the adjoining cave, lay the rotting head of the tarag; but Skruf was nowhere in sight.
At first von Horst thought that he had entered the cave in search of La-ja; but presently he realized that the voice was coming from below. Looking over the edge of the ledge, he saw Skruf standing on a ladder a few feet below. Then he saw La-ja run from the cave, her countenance a picture of tragic despair.
He had stepped to the head of the ladder, beside which lay the tarag's head, and so was directly in front of the mouth of the cave as La-ja emerged. Something about her manner, her expression, frightened him. She did not seem to see him as she ran past him toward the edge of the cliff. Intuitively, he knew what was in her mind; and as she passed him, he threw an arm about her and drew her back.
'Not that, La-ja,' he said quietly.
She came to herself with a start, as though from a trance. Then she clung to him and commenced to sob. 'There is no other way,' she cried. 'He must not get me.'
'He shall not,' said the man; then he looked down upon Skruf. 'Get out of here,' he said, 'and take your
