He then looped the dark, narrow, braided rawhide rope three times about her neck. He adjusted it so that it was snug and not too tight, and the ends were even. He then tied the two loose ends together, closing the collar. He jerked the two loose ends, sharply, snapping them in contrary directions, making the knot tight. A narrow, inverted triangle of flesh showed between the first two coils of the collar, wrapped closely about her neck, and the knot. He released the two loose ends of the collar, below the knot, and they fell lightly, dangling, as was the case with Mira's collar, between her breasts. The subtle touch of the leather on the breasts of a slave can be useful to a slave, particularly when she is naked, reminding her that she is a slave. Also, as I have suggested, they provide a convenient, short leash wherewith one might drag her about and control her, as one pleases. The collar, as ws the case with Mira's, would serve not only to mark the girl as a slave but, in its way, would distinguish her from the common properties of the red savages, whose collars are usually of beaded leather. It is natural that the young man, whose experiences in such matters were limited, should follow the general collar design I had used with Mira. I had no objection. Indeed, It seemed approapriate that both girls, both former Waniyanpi girls, should be simiarly collared. I would later explain to him the identifacatory aspects of the collar, and he might then, if he wished, change it, or personalize it in some way, perhaps with a special knot, tag or ornament. On the other hand, too, if he wished to leave it as it was, I had no objection. Both we and the girls, and soon so, too, would others, well understood the bondage relations in which they stood.
'She is a pretty slave,' I said.
Then they were in one another's arms. 'I have always wanted to own you!' he cried, his voice rich, husky and wild.
'Any man may now own me,' she said, 'for I am a slave, but it is you who do own me! It is you who do own me!'
'I love you,' he cried, crushing her to him.
'And I love you, my Master,' she cried. 'I love you, my Master!'
'I must have her,' cried the young man to us. 'I cannot wait. Go on without us!'
'We can wait,' I said.
He then lowered the naked, collared slave, so beautiful, so vulnerable, so helpless, so tremulous, so eager, so ready, so loving, to the grass. 'I am so happy!' she said. 'I am so happy!'
'The camp,' said Cuwignaka, 'is just over this rise.'
Cuwignaka and I trudged upward, through the grass. It was late afternoon.
Behind us, some fifty yards, came the travois. The young lad who had been once of the WAniyanpi had inisisted on helping to draw it. We had rigged a center trace. He now drew it, flanked on either side, also in harness, by a femlae slave, Mira on his right and the blond girl, who also had been once of the Waniyanpi, on his left. A man's slave usually heels him, following behind him, or behind him on his left. He had made a tunic for his slave. He had fashioned it for her from her former Waniyanpi garb. It was incredibly short. It was sleeveless. It had a deep, plunging neckline. It, too, was belted tightly, with a belt of rolled cloth, which device served well to accentuate the delicate lineaments of her lovely figure. Such tiny, skimpy garments, so straightfowardly and brazenly revelatory of a woman's beauty, are usually regarded by free women as scandals and outrages. Nonetheless they are the sorts of garments in which a girl, if she is a slave, will come to expect herself to be placed, if she is permitted clothing at all. Indeed, slave girls tend to enjoy such garments. They appreciate the freedom of movement which they permit and relish, too, the insolent exposure and display of their desireaility and beauty to the bold appraisal of men. The young man's slave seemed quite pleased with her garment. It was, of course, all she wore. Mira I was keeping naked. I would decide later whether or not to permit her a garment. I smiled to myself. She had once been an agent of Kurii. She would accordingly, drink deeply of slavery under my tutelage. She would learn it well.
'There,' said Cuwignaka, standing on teh crest of the small hill, in the deep grass. 'below is the camp, nestled in the trees, by the small stream. You can see some lodges.'
I stood, stock-still, on the crest of the small hill, beside Cuwignaka. I scarcely glanced into the shallow valley, at the trees along the stream, the lodges hidden among the trees.
It was something else which drew my attention. It was on a rise behind the camp.
'What is wrong?' asked Cuwignaka.
I could not speak. My blood began to race, my heart to pound. I began to breathe swiftly. I trembled.
'What is wrong, Mitakola?' asked Cuwignaka.
'There,' I said. I pointed to the rise overlooking the camp.
'What?' he asked.
'There!' I said. 'There!'
On that rise there were two trees, white-barked trees, some fifty feet tall, with shimmering green leaves. They stood within some thrity to forty feet of one another and both were outlined dramatically against the sky.
'What?' asked Cuwignaka.
I stared, trembling, at the lonely pair of trees. 'The trees,' I said. 'The trees.' They were Hogarthe trees, named for Hogarthe, one of the early explorers in the area of the Barrens, usually growing along the banks of small streams or muddy, sluggish rivers. Their shape is very reminiscent of poplar trees on Earth, to which, perhaps in virtue of seeds brought to the Counter-Earth, they may be related.
'It is from those trees,' said Cuwignaka, 'that this place has its name.'
'What is the name of this place?' I asked.
'Two Feathers,' said Cuwignaka.
'I thought that was a name,' I said.
'It is a name,' said Cuwignaka, 'the name of this place.'
'Who is high man here?' I asked.
'It would be Kahintokapa, One-Who-Walks-Before, of the Yellow-Kaiila Riders,' said Cuwignaka, 'if he survived.'
'He must have survived!' I cried.
I began to run wildly down the slope toward the camp.
'Wait!' cried Cuwignaka. 'Someone is coming!'
'Tatankasa!' cried Canka, rushing towards us from the camp. But I ran past him. I ran as though mad. He, and perhaps Akihoka, who had gone to fetch him back from hunting, must have made contact with fugitives from the festival camp and then, with them, come to this camp.
'Master!' cried Winyela.
But I ran past her, too.
'Wait!' I heard Cuwignaka calling out behind me.
But I could not wait. It was late afternoon. This would be the time for the sunning of shields, hanging on the shield tripods behnd the lodge facing west.
Woemn looked up, startled, as I hurried through the camp. 'Tatankasa!' cried more than one.
'Tatankasa!' called out Mahpiyasapa.
I, a slave, fell to my knees before him. He was chief of the Isbu Kaiila.
'You live!' he cried. 'My heart sings!'
'Master,' I cried. 'Where is the lodge of Kahintokapa!'
'There,' said Mahpiyasapa, puzzled, pointing.
'My thanks, Master!' I cried.
I clenched my fists.
'You may rise,' said Mahpiyasapa, discerning my urgency.
I leaped to my feet.
'Tatankasa!' cried Mahpiyasapa.
'Yes?' I said.
'Know you aught of Hci?'
'Let your heart soar and sing, Master,' I said. 'Your son lives!' I pointed behind me, to the slope, down which the young, former Waniyapi lad and Mira and the former Waniyanpi girl, now a master's slave, drew the travois. Mahpiyasapa, his face radiant with joy, hurried from my side. I saw Canka and Cuwignaka embracing. Winyela, overjoyed, stood by. Others, too, from the camp, were running out to meet them.
