go is not definitely known; but probably out into the ocean, where those that survive remain for a year, of course most of them are devoured by the larger denizens of the sea. In the case of Yron's mate only three survived from last year's spawning.'
'These may not even be hers,' I suggested.
'Oh, yes they are,' Kandar assured me. 'Some instinct always guides the little rascals back to the pool in which they were spawned.'
'I don't see how anyone can tell,' I demurred.
'Instinct again,' said Kandar. 'These creatures are endowed with a congenital antipathy for similar creatures devoid of identical genes. If one of another spawning should blunder into this pool in search of his own, these creatures would set upon it and either drive it out or kill it.
'The parents, especially the females, have the same instinctive power of recognition of their own. Myposan slaves have told me that it is not uncommon for none of a female's own spawning to return, all having been devoured at sea. If, in such a case, the young of another female blunders into her pool, she immediately recognizes that it is not hers and destroys it.'
'I presume that is a provision of Nature to prevent inbreeding,' I suggested.
'On the contrary it is a provision of Nature to ensure inbreeding,' said Kandar. 'The Myposans never mate with offspring outside their own families. After you have been here a little longer, you will be struck by the startling family resemblances and characteristics. You still see that Yron and his mate look and act alike; and if you ever witness a gathering of the clan, you will be struck by the remarkable resemblances.'
I was about to ask some further question; what, I do not now recall, when I heard a shrill scream from overhead and the whir of wings.
'The guypals!' cried Artol.
Chapter XI
GUYPALS! They were large birds and ferocious. There must have been a dozen of them. They dove for us and for the pool. We poked and struck at them with our wooden tridents, and they zoomed and dove again.
People came running from the house. Yron and his mate were among them. There was a great deal of noise and a great deal of excitement. The warriors who came had metal tridents, but these the guypals eluded. They seemed to know that the wooden weapons wielded by the slaves could not do much damage.
The Myposans were blowing furiously and flapping their gills. All were screaming orders and advice. It was bedlam. The noise should have frightened off almost anything. We were doing pretty well; and keeping the guypals at a distance, when one of them eluded us and dove straight for the pool. It looked as though one of Mrs. Yron's little darlings was about to get his.
You can't get up much enthusiasm about succoring a fish. At least I can't; but I had a job to do; and it was only natural that, being what I am, I should do the best I could to acquit myself worthily.
I imagine that I just don't think such things out. I act quite mechanically. Had I stopped to think, I should have said to myself, 'These may be children to some; but they are just fish to me, and if I save them they will grow up to be three more enemies. I shall let them die;' but I said nothing of the kind to myself. I imagine that what crossed my mind and influenced me was a subconscious reminder that I had been given the job of protecting these creatures and that nothing else counted. Of course it all happened in the fraction of a second. The guypal dove for the pool, and I drew my r-ray pistol and blew a hole through it. It crumpled and fell into the pool; then I turned the pistol on the others which were circling about awaiting another opportunity to elude us. Three more dropped, and the others flew away.
Yron approached me. I thought he was going to express his indebtedness to me, but he did nothing of the sort. He didn't even thank me for saving his little darlings.
'What is that thing?' he demanded.
'A pistol,' I replied.
'What is a postol?' he asked.
'This,' I said.
'And it killed the guypals?' he asked.
'I killed the guypals. Without me the pistol could not kill them—unless,' I added, 'they had touched it.'
'Could it kill anything else?' he asked.
'Certainly—anything.'
'Me?'
'You and all your people,' I assured him.
'Give it to me, slave,' he demanded.
'Certainly,' I said, holding it out toward him, 'but if you touch it it will kill you.'
He drew back, and commenced to blow. His gills flapped. 'Throw it away!' he commanded.
He might as well have asked me to cut off my right hand and throw it away. I was saving that pistol for some future emergency. You may wonder why I had never used it on these people in a break for freedom. It was because I had never yet found conditions such that I might hope to escape and take Duare with me, and I certainly had no intention of trying to escape without her.
I just grinned at Yron and shook my head. 'I may need it,' I said, 'if the people of Mypos do not treat my mate and me well.'
Yron fairly danced up and down. 'Throw it away, slave!' he screamed. 'I, Yron, a noble of Mypos and your master, command you.'
'And I, Carson of Venus, a prince of Korva, refuse.'
You could have heard Yron's gills flap a city block away, and he was blowing like a whale—which he didn't at all resemble. I don't know whether or not fish have high blood pressure; but I am sure Yron didn't, as otherwise he would have exploded. I think I have never seen any other creature in the throes of such a terrific rage—the more terrific because of its futility.
'Seize him!' he screamed at several of his warriors who had come to the pool following the alarm. 'Seize him and destroy that thing!'
The warriors had been interested listeners to our altercation. They had heard me say that whoever touched my pistol would die; so they came forward warily, each one intent upon permitting some one else to be first. They were very polite in this respect. There was no rude elbowing of others aside in order to be the first to seize me.
'That is close enough,' I said, pointing the pistol at them.
They halted in their tracks, looking very uncomfortable.
'Spear him!' commanded Yron.
I pointed the pistol at Yron. 'When the first spear is raised, you die,' I told him. The warriors looked questioningly at him.
'Hold!' cried Yron. 'Do not spear him—yet. Wait until I have gone.'
'You are not going until you have countermanded that order,' I told him. 'I think that perhaps we had better discuss this matter so that there may be no more misunderstandings; they are always annoying and sometimes fatal.'
'I do not discuss anything with my slaves,' replied Yron, haughtily.
I shrugged. 'It is all the same to me,' I said, 'but remember this: If my mate and my friend Kandar, here, and I are not treated well, you die. I can kill you any time I wish.'
'Your mate? You have no mate here.'
'Not here, but in the palace of Tyros . She was purchased for him in the slave market. You'd better advise him to treat her well. At the same time arrange to release us and return us to the place where we were captured.'
'Such insolence!' he cried. 'Wait until Tyros hears of this. He will have you killed.'
'Not before I have killed Tyros. Tell him that.' I thought I might as well play up my advantage while I could, for it was evident that he was already afraid of me.
'How can you reach Tyros in his palace?' he demanded.
