The leader of the band issued some instructions, and the party spread out and started to circle Old White, which remained facing them, making no effort to escape.
'Trog's going to try to drive him,' remarked the warrior with von Horst. 'If he can bring in Ah Am he will be a great man.'
'Can he?' asked von Horst.
The warrior shrugged. 'The sun-bleached bones of ten warriors are a better answer than any living tongue can offer.'
Slowly the warriors drew around behind Ah Am in a half circle; then they closed and moved forward. In the meantime the quarry had turned again to face them. His little eyes gleamed, his trunk weaved slowly to and fro as he rocked his head from side to side. The warriors commenced to shout and wave their spears. They came closer. It seemed incredible that the animal did not turn and break for freedom; but it did not—Ah Am stood his ground.
Suddenly he raised his trunk and, with a loud scream, charged. Straight for the center of the line he came—a solid line, for the mammoths were touching side to side. He lowered his head; and when he struck, two mammoths were knocked down. As he passed over them he seized one of the riders and hurled him fifty feet; then, as he passed over him, he trampled him. After that he appeared to pay no more attention to the party, but moved on majestically in the direction he had been going before the interruption. It seemed to von Horst that his whole manner screamed contempt for the man-things that had dared to delay him.
Trog shook his head ruefully and turned toward the river. The two felled mammoths came to their feet—one of them was riderless, but he followed on with the others. No one paid any attention to the mangled warrior lying on the plain. Perhaps he was dead, but he may not have been. It was evident to von Horst that these men held human life lightly and that they were without compassion. He wondered if Thorek would recall that he had suggested that they be friends should they meet again, for it was possible that he might meet him now that he was a prisoner of Thorek's fellows. Prompted by this recollection of the man who had escaped from the Bastians with him he turned toward the warrior riding behind him.
'Do you know Thorek?' he asked.
'Yes; what do you know of him?'
'We are friends.'
The warrior laughed. 'No stranger is friend to a Mammoth Mman,' he said.
'Did Thorek return from Basti?' asked von Horst.
'No,' and then suddenly, 'What is your name?'
'Von. If Thorek were here he would tell you that we are friends.'
'Well, perhaps Thorek was your friend; but no other Mammoth Man will be. Friendship for a stranger is weakness in a warrior. Strangers are to be killed; that is why they are strangers. If there were no strangers there would be no one to kill except one another, and that would not be good for the tribe. We would soon kill each other off. Men must fight and kill; it is the life blood of warriors.'
Presently they came to the river and crossed it, keeping slightly above the regular ford; then Trog and some of the others dismounted and examined the ground in the trail leading in to the river. Von Horst watched them with amusement, for he recognized the spot well. He saw that the men were surprised and angry at what they discovered.
'Ah Am has been down here,' exclaimed Trog. 'There is blood here; but where are the stakes? They have all been removed.'
'I saw mud and blood on the right side of Ah Am as he passed close to me when he charged through our line,' volunteered a warrior.
'Yes; he was down here,' growled Trog. 'We had him, but how could he have escaped?'
'He is very old and very wise,' said one.
'He could never be old enough or wise enough to pick the splinters from his pads and his side, to pick them all out of the ground,' remonstrated Trog. 'That could only be done by a man.'
'Here are the foot-prints of a man,' exclaimed a warrior.
'But who would dare approach Ah Am and take the splinters from him? Had a man done that we should find his body close by.' Trog shook his head. 'I do not understand.'
They found the splinters where von Horst had tossed them aside, and they set them out again with great care and well concealed upon the opposite side of the river; then they mounted and rode back toward the hills from which they had been coming when von Horst first sighted them.
'We’ll get him yet,' remarked von Horst's warrior.
'How?' asked the European.
'When he gets splinters in his feet the pain is so great that he cannot stand; the pads of a tandor are thick, but they are very sensitive. When we come back and find him down we put heavy thongs of mammoth hide about his neck. These are fastened to three mammoths on each side of him, mammoths trained for this work; then we take the splinters from the ground around him and from his pads and let him get up. After that it is easy. The six mammoths drag him until he tires of being choked. After that he will follow quietly.'
'Will you ever be able to train Ah Am, provided you get him?' asked von Horst.
The warrior shook his head. 'He would never be safe. Mamth will put him in the little canyon, and he will afford us much amusement.'
'In what way?'
The warrior looked at von Horst and grinned. 'I think you will find out soon enough,' he said.
After the party reached the foothills it followed a well-worn trail that led up to a wide plateau upon which several mighty canyons debouched from the mountains beyond. The plateau was covered with lush grasses and was crossed by several streams that issued from the mouths of the canyons, into one of which Trog led his savage troop. The grandeur of the scenery within the canyon was impressive, and to such an extent that for the moment von Horst almost forgot the hopelessness of his situation. Within its narrow mouth the canyon widened into a lovely valley walled by precipitous cliffs that were broken occasionally by the narrow mouths of smaller canyons. A stream flowed through the bed of the canyon, trees and flowering shrubs grew in profusion, fish leaped in the river, and birds of weird, prehistoric shapes and coloration flew from tree to tree.
Von Horst sighed. 'What a lovely place,' he thought, 'if only La-ja and I were here alone.'
La-ja! What had become of her? Had she escaped from Skruf, or was she still his captive? She would have been better off here among the Mammoth Men, or at least no worse off; for no one could have been more repugnant to her than Skruf. At least, were she here, she would have had one friend whom she might trust even though he were unable to do anything for her.
Von Horst sighed. He had a premonition that he would never again see La-ja, and it suddenly occurred to him that this strange world was going to be a very much more terrible place to live in because of that. He realized that something had gone out of his life that nothing could replace. Perhaps it hurt his pride to admit it even to himself, for the girl had certainly given him sufficient proof on numerous occasions that he meant nothing whatever to her; yet he could not forget the pathetic longing note in her voice when she had recognized him and called to him just before the Mammoth Men had separated them forever.
Depressed by this sad reverie, his future fate seemed to mean nothing to him. He did not care what the Mammoth Men did to him. The sooner it was over, the better. Without a single companion for whom he cared, he might as well be dead as alive; for there was no chance that he might ever return to the outer world, nor little more that he would find Sari should he escape from his present predicament.
While he was occupied by these unhappy thoughts the troop turned into one of the smaller canyons, and shortly thereafter he saw the caves of the Mammoth Men pitting the face of the lofty cliff ahead. A considerable number of men, women, and children were on the ground at the foot of the cliff where a grove of trees offered shelter from the noonday sun. Some of the women busied themselves around cooking fires; others were fashioning sandals or loin cloths. Men chipped laboriously at stone weapons in the making, scraped spear shafts into shape, or merely loafed at ease. At sight of the returning troop, they quit whatever had been occupying them and clustered about to inspect the prisoners and exchange gossip with the arriving warriors.
Trog looked very important. 'Where is Mamth?' he demanded.
'He is in his cave, sleeping,' said a woman.
'Go and awaken him,' commanded Trog.
