Chapter 8

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      I was running around the rim of the toadstool cap, knocking off the slimy things that sought to drink our blood, and Princess Loralie was crouching fearfully in the center, when suddenly I heard a crashing and splashing through the marsh behind me, accompanied by queer noises that sounded much like a combination of a bleat and a bellow.

      Glancing back for a moment between gasps, I saw coming toward us an immense humpbacked reptile sinking flank-deep in the watery ooze with each step as it crashed through the reeds in its apparent endeavor to escape from some mortal enemy, and uttering the queer cries of distress I had heard. I could see its long snakelike neck curved back as, with its small jaws it would jerk the swamp creatures first from one side then the other.

      Coincident with the appearance of this huge reptile, the heads of the swamp dwellers stopped reappearing above the edge of our toadstool cap. They had abandoned their attack on us in favor of the larger quarry.

      Thicker and thicker they swarmed around the great dinosaur. For every blood-hungry thing the giant lizard tossed in the air, at least ten squirmed up to fasten their sucker mouths on its heaving sides, until the reptile’s back resembled the wave-tossed bottom of a capsized ship covered with immense barnacles.

      Gradually the speed of the great beast slowed down. It stopped. Then its struggles grew weaker, and the doomed saurian uttered a final cry and sank down in the ooze.

      So absorbed had I been in this titanic battle that I had momentarily forgotten our own danger.

      “Our enemies have momentarily forgotten us,” I said then. “Shall we make a dash for liberty?”

      “It is our only chance,” she replied.

      Swinging over the edge of the toadstool, I dropped to the ground. Loralie swung her small, athletic body over the edge as I had done, and dropped into my waiting arms.

      As I stood there, ankle deep in the ooze with that shapely young form close to me, I suddenly forgot our danger—forgot everything except that she lay there in my arms, her head thrown back, glorious dark eyes that were pools of lambent flame looking up into mine. But when, intoxicated with her nearness, I would have crushed her to me, she suddenly twisted free from my arms and ran, leaping lightly as a startled fawn in the direction of the mountains to the southwest.

      Club in hand I followed her as closely as I could, meanwhile keeping a sharp lookout for swamp dwellers. But they were too busy feasting.

      As we approached the foothills the ground became drier and firmer, and the character of the vegetation once more underwent a gradual change; cycads and low-growing conifers were mostly in evidence. Soon we were climbing steep hillsides, with the ground continually becoming more rugged and the vegetation more sparse.

      During our progress Loralie had not addressed a word to me, or noticed my presence in any way. I felt I must have offended her by holding her over-long in my arms. Yet for that fleeting moment I would have sworn I had seen in her starry eyes the reflection of emotions akin to my own, and quite unlike her unnatural aversion to me in the caves of the ape.

      When we arrived in a small isolated copse of water ferns, I decided it was time to halt for rest and refreshment.

      “Here are food and drink,” I said. “Let us stop for a while.”

      Without answering, she sank down wearily on a mound of soft moss and turning, buried her face in her arms. In a moment she began weeping softly.

      I broke off a branch of water fern and knelt beside her, trying to get her to sit up.

      “Don’t touch me!” she wailed. “Go away.”

      “Oh, very well,” I snapped, and ate and drank by myself—without much appetite. Then, I set about equipping myself with more efficient weapons.

      I soon fashioned a bow, which I strung with a piece of the tough cord I had brought with me. Some reeds which I had gathered en route I made into arrows by tipping them with slivers of stone bound in place with the cord. I bound bits of fern leaf in place of feathers. A quiver I made from ptang-hide which was wrapped around the piece of meat I had brought with me.

      Several hours elapsed in these pursuits, and my too temperamental companion had in the interval sobbed herself to sleep.

      I had scarcely finished cooking some ptang meat when I saw the princess stir and open her eyes. For a moment she seemed startled by the strangeness of her surroundings. Then she sat up, and catching the appetizing scent of my roasting meat, looked hungrily toward it—then resolutely away.

      “The Prince of Olba,” I said, “would be greatly honored if the Princess of Tyrhana would join him at dinner. The royal butler is about to serve.”

      Despite her attempt at severity, I saw a slight smile play around the corners of her adorable little mouth. Then she turned her head away once more.

      Placing my roast on some broad, clean leaves which I had spread over the moss for the purpose, I walked over to where she sat.

      “I say, young lady,” I remarked severely. “Don’t you think you have carried this foolish perversity of yours about far enough? I can’t imagine what makes you act like a badly spoiled child. I’ve a notion to spank you.”

      She tried to maintain her dignity, but I saw her lips quivering.

      “Forgive me,” I said. “Perhaps it is I who am wrong. If I have done anything to hurt your feelings, I’m sincerely sorry. I am not desirous of forcing my attentions on you, but I can’t leave you alone in this wilderness. You make it hard, extremely hard for me to be of service to you.”

      She looked up at me, her beautiful eyes brimming—tears clinging to the long dark lashes. “You are so kind, and so brave. I wish those other things were not true.”

      “What other things?” I asked in surprise, sitting down beside her. “Has someone been talking about me?”

      “I cannot betray those who have reposed confidence in me,” she said, “nor can I doubt the testimony of many witnesses. Yet it does not seem possible.”

      “I’m sure I don’t understand what you are driving at. Pray tell me of what monstrous crime I am accused, and permit me at least a chance to defend my character.”

      “You were accused…Oh, I cannot say it!” She looked at me reproachfully, then turned her head away and swallowed bard to keep from crying.

      “It must have been horrible. Won’t you tell me what it was?”

      “Of making love to that Chixa,” she faltered.

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