Grum pointed a stubby, grimy finger at him. 'There he is,' she cried in a loud voice.
'He's not a Mammoth Man,' objected Mamth. 'How can he fight for you?'
'Because no one else will,' admitted Grum.
Mamth shook his head, but he did not have time to voice a definite refusal before Horg spoke up.
'Let him fight me,' he said. 'This is a karoo, and we should have some amusement.'
'You will promise not to kill him?' demanded Mamth. 'I am saving him for the little canyon.'
'I will not kill him,' promised Horg.
Von Horst approached the two. 'And when I have beaten you,' he demanded, 'you will make Grum your mate?'
'That is the way of the Mammoth Men,' said Mamth. 'He will have to take her, but you will not beat him.'
'Beat me!' bellowed Horg. 'Let me get hold of him.'
'How do we fight?' asked von Horst. 'Are there any rules?'
'You fight as the beasts fight,' explained Mamth. 'You may use no weapon, no stone nor stick. You fight until one of you is unable to fight longer or gives up.'
'I am ready,' said von Horst.
'Are you ready, Horg?' demanded Mamth.
Horg laughed nonchalantly and contemptuously. 'I am ready,' he said.
'Then fight!' commanded Mamth.
The spectators formed a circle about the combatants as the two approached one another. Horg was in fine spirits. The tumal he had drunk accounted partially for that, and certainty of an easy victory took care of the rest. He cracked jokes with his friends at the expense of both von Horst and Grum. They were rather broad jokes and not at all of the parlor variety, but every one enjoyed them immensely—that is, everyone but Grum. She was furious.
'Wait until I get you,' she screamed. 'You'll wish you'd never been born.'
Von Horst grinned as he featured the life that was in store for Horg should the Mammoth Man lose. Death would be sweeter.
Suddenly Horg made a rush at von Horst, the brawny arms, the ham-like hands endeavoring to close upon him; but von Horst stooped and dodged beneath them; then he wheeled and struck Horg on the jaw—a blow that staggered him. Before the Mammoth Man could recover, he was struck again; and again his head rocked. Now he was furious. He cracked no more jokes. He bellowed like an angry elephant and charged again. Again von Horst dodged him, and the great hulk went lumbering on a dozen paces before it could stop.
When Horg turned he saw von Horst charging him. This was what he wished. Now he could get hold of the fellow, and once he got hold of him he could crush him, break his bones if he wished unless he gave up.
He stood waiting, his feet spread far apart, his arms open. Von Horst ran swiftly straight toward Horg. Just before he reached him he leaped into the air, flexed his knees, drawing his feet close to his body, and then with all his strength backed by the momentum of his charge he kicked Horg with both feet full in the face. The result was astonishing—especially to Horg. He turned a complete back somersault, landed on his head, and dropped face down in the dirt.
Groggy and only half conscious, he staggered slowly to his feet. Von Horst was waiting for him. 'Have you had enough?' he asked. He did not wish to punish the man further in the condition he was in. The crowd was yelling encouragement to him; and with the fickleness and cruelty of crowds was jeering at its fallen champion. Grum, seeing her hopes about to be realized, screamed at the top of her voice as she urged von Horst to finish the almost helpless man; but Horg would not give in. Perhaps he heard Grum and preferred death. He lunged for his lighter antagonist, growling beast-like.
'I kill!' he screamed.
Thus was von Horst compelled to continue, for he knew that Horg had uttered no idle threat. If the fellow could get those great paws on him, get one good hold, he would kill him. In both his hands he seized one of the outstretched wrists, swung quickly around, bent suddenly forward, and hurled the mighty man over his head—a trick of ju-jitsu far simpler than it appeared to the amazed onlookers. Horg fell heavily and lay still. Von Horst approached and stood over him. There were cries of 'Kill him! Kill him!' for the blood-lust of these primitive savages was aroused, stimulated perhaps by the tumal they had drunk.
Von Horst turned to Mamth. 'Have I won?' he asked.
The chief nodded. 'You have won,' he said.
The victor looked at Grum. 'Here is your mate,' he said. 'Come and take him.'
The woman ran forward and fell upon the prostrate Horg, beating and kicking him. Von Horst turned away in disgust. The others, laughing, returned to the food and the tumal.
Thorek came and slapped von Horst on the back. 'I told them you were a great warrior,' he exulted.
'You should know,' said von Horst with a grin.
'Come and join the karoo,' said Thorek. 'You have had nothing to eat or drink. That is not the way to make karoo.'
'Why should I make karoo?' demanded von Horst. 'I do not even know what is being celebrated.'
'They have captured Old White, The Killer. That is something to celebrate. There never was such a wise old mammoth, nor one as large. After the next sleep we shall start training him, and when he is trained Mamth will ride him. He is a fit mammoth for a chief.'
'I should like to see him trained,' remarked von Horst; for he thought it might be an interesting occasion if Old White objected, which he was sure that he would.
'I'll ask Mamth if you can come,' said Thorek. 'It will probably be after the next sleep. Every one will wish to sleep after the karoo.'
The two men talked for awhile, exchanging experiences that had befallen them since they had separated; then Thorek wandered away to drink with his fellows, and von Horst sought out Lotai. Together they watched the celebration, which was by this time loud and boisterous. Fights were more numerous, the laughter deafening. Usually dignified old warriors were performing foolish antics and laughing uproariously at themselves. Many of the women were thick tongued and bleary eyed. As von Horst watched them he was struck by the very obvious fact that human nature had undergone little or no change from the stone age to the present time. Except for the difference in language and apparel these might be people from any present-day country of the outer crust. Presently he saw Grum approaching unsteadily. For the moment she had relaxed surveillance over her new mate. Von Horst attracted her attention and beckoned to her.
'What do you want?' she demanded.
'You have not forgotten our bargain?' inquired the man.
'What bargain?' she asked.
'If I got Horg for you, you were to help me escape.'
'When they are asleep after the karoo I will show you the way, but you cannot go now. The tarags would get you. After the prisoners are taken to the little canyon, the tarags will be gone; then you could go.'
'It will be too late then,' he said, 'for I am to go to the little canyon; and if I have surmised correctly from what I have heard, I shall not return.'
'No,' she admitted with a shrug, 'you will not. But I promised to show you how you might escape. It is the only way I know; if you can't use it, that is not my fault.' Then she staggered away in search of Horg, and von Horst returned to Lotai.
The celebration dragged on—interminably, it seemed to von Horst; but at last those who could still walk reeled to their caves to sleep.
Horg had drunk himself into a stupor, and Grum was beating him over the head with a stick in an effort either to punish or arouse him—perhaps to kill him. Von Horst could not guess which.
Lotai, Mumal, and Gorph were climbing to their caves—the last so befuddled that climbing the ladder toward his ledge seemed to von Horst almost to verge upon suicide.
The European passed close to Grum. 'They are all going to their caves to sleep,' he whispered. 'Now is your chance to tell me.'
'Go to the ledge before Gorph's cave, and wait there for me.'
As he climbed the ladders toward the ledge he could hear Grum berating Horg as she beat him, and he
