Suddenly he straightened up. 'Kru is chief!' he cried. Simultaneously he drove an arrow into Tant's chest. 'Are there any others who will not accept Kru as chief?' he demanded.
Some of them who had gathered around Tant ran to strike him down; they charged with lowered horns like bulls. But those about Kru charged to meet them; and as they fought, von Horst moved backward slowly until he stood with his back against the chief’s hut. Close to him stood La-ja. He paid no attention to her, although it was plain to her that he was aware of her presence.
The man was engrossed in the strange tactics of these half-beasts. When they did not clinch they dove with lowered heads for the belly of an antagonist, seeking to disembowel him with their heavy horns. Oftentimes they met head on with such terrific force that both were knocked down. When they clinched, each antagonist seized another by the shoulders; and, straining and tugging, they sought to gore each other in the face or neck or chest.
It was a scene of savage fury made more terrifying by the bellowing and snorting of the combatants; but it was soon over, for those who opposed Kru were few in numbers and without a leader. One by one, those who survived broke away and retreated, leaving the field to Kru.
The new chief, overcome by his importance, strutted about pompously. He sent immediately for the women of Drovan and Tant, of which there were about thirty; and after selecting half of them for himself turned the others over to his followers to be divided by lot.
In the meantime von Horst and La-ja remained in the background practically unnoticed by the bison-men, nor did they call attention to themselves, as it was obvious that the bulls were worked up to a frenzy of hysterical excitement by all that had so recently transpired and by the sight and smell of blood. Presently, however, the eyes of an old bull fell upon them; and he commenced to bellow deep in his chest and paw the ground. He approached them, lowering his head as though about to charge. Von Horst fitted an arrow to his bow. The bull hesitated; then he turned toward Kru.
'The gilaks,' he said. 'When do we kill the gilaks or set them to work?'
Kru looked in the direction of the speaker. Von Horst waited for the chief’s answer. It had been upon the hope of his gratitude that he had based his hopes for liberty for himself and La-ja, for he was still thinking of the girl's welfare. He found that he could not do otherwise, no matter how ungrateful she might be. He wondered how much gratitude, then, he might expect from this brutal bison-man if La-ja accorded him none.
'Well,' said the old bull, 'do we kill the gilaks or do we put them to work in the fields?'
'Kill the she!' cried one of the women.
'No,' growled Kru, 'the she shall not be killed. Take them away and put them in a hut and guard them. Later Kru will decide what to do with the man.'
Von Horst and La-ja were taken to a filthy hut. They were not bound. The man's weapons were not taken away from him, and he could only assume that their captors were too stupid and unimaginative to sense the necessity for such precautions. La-ja went to one side of the hut and sat down, von Horst to the other. They did not speak. The man did not even look at the woman, but her eyes were often upon him.
He was unhappy and almost without hope. If she had been kind to him, even civil, he might have envisioned a future worth fighting for with enthusiasm; but now, without hope of her love, there seemed nothing. The knowledge that he loved her aroused in him only self-contempt, while it should have been a source of pride. He felt only a dull sense of duty to her because she was a woman. He knew that he would try to save her. He knew that he would fight for her, but he felt no elation.
Presently he lay down and slept. He dreamed that he slept in a clean bed between cool sheets, and that when he awoke he put on fresh linen and well-pressed clothes and went down to a sumptuous dinner at a perfectly appointed table. A waiter, bringing a salver of food, bumped against his shoulder.
He awoke to see a woman standing beside him. She had kicked his shoulder. 'Wake up,' she said. 'Here is your fodder.'
She dumped an armful of fresh-cut grass and some vegetables on the filthy floor beside him. 'It is for the woman, too,' she said.
Von Horst sat up and looked at the woman. She was not a Ganak, but a human being like himself. 'What is the grass for?' he asked.
'To eat,' she replied.
'We do not eat grass,' he said, 'and there are not enough vegetables here to make a meal for one.'
'You will eat grass here or you will starve,' said the woman. 'We slaves are not allowed many vegetables.'
'How about meat?' inquired von Horst.
'The Ganaks do not eat meat; so there is no meat to eat. I have been here for more sleeps than I can remember, and I have never seen anyone eat meat. You'll get used to the grass after awhile.'
'Do they put all their prisoners to work in the fields?' asked von Horst.
'You never can tell what they will do. As a rule they keep the women and work them in the fields until they get too old; then they kill them. If they are short of slaves they keep the men for awhile; otherwise they kill them immediately. They have kept me for many sleeps. I belong to Splay. They will give this woman to some one, because she is young. They will probably kill you, as they have plenty of slaves now—more than they care to feed.'
When the woman had gone, von Horst gathered up the vegetables and placed them beside La-ja. The girl looked up at him. Her eyes flashed.
'Why do you do such things?' she demanded. 'I do not want you to do anything for me. I do not want to like you.'
Von Horst shrugged. 'You are succeeding very well,' he said, drily.
She mumbled something that he could not catch and commenced to divide the vegetables into two parts. 'You eat your share and I shall eat mine,' she said.
'There are not enough for one, let alone two. You'd better keep them all,' he insisted. 'Anyway, I don't care much for raw vegetables.'
'Then you can leave them. I'll not eat them. If you don't like the vegetables, eat the grass.'
Von Horst relapsed into silence and commenced to gnaw on a tuber. It was better than nothing—that was about all he could say for it. As the girl ate she occasionally glanced at the man furtively. Once he glanced up and caught her eyes on him, and she looked away quickly.
'Why do you dislike me, La-ja?' he asked. 'What have I done.'
'I don't wish to talk about it. I don't wish to talk to you at all.'
'You're not fair,' he remonstrated. 'If I knew what I'd done, I might correct it. It would be much pleasanter if we were friends, for we may have to see a lot of each other before we get to Lo-har.'
'We'll never get to Lo-har.'
'Don't give up hope. These people are stupid. We ought to be able to out-wit them and escape.'
'We won't; but if we did, you wouldn't be going to Lo-har.'
'I'm going wherever you go,' he replied doggedly.
'Why do you want to go to Lo-har? You'd only be killed. Gaz would break you in two. But why do you want to go at all?'
'Because you are going,' he said. He spoke scarcely above a whisper, as though to himself.
She looked at him intently, questioningly. Her expression underwent a barely perceptible change, which he did not note because he was not looking at her. It seemed a little less uncompromising. There was the difference between granite and ice—ice is very cold and hard, but it does thaw.
'If you would only tell me what I have done,' he insisted—'why you do not like me.'
'That, I could not say to you,' she replied. 'If you were not a fool, you'd know.'
He shook his head. 'I'm sorry,' he said, 'but I guess I am; so please tell me because I am such a fool.'
'No,' she replied emphatically.
'Couldn't you give me a clue?-just a little hint?'
She thought for a moment. 'Perhaps I could do that,' she said. 'You remember that you struck me and carried me away from Basti by force?'
'I did it for your own good, and I apologized,' he reminded her.
'But you did it.'
