THE TROUBLES OF TORON
“No, the ant-fliers did not capture me,” replied the young Prince Toron, “for when they punctured my fuel tank, I fluttered down and landed in a tree in some thick woods. Of course this wrecked my plane, but that didn’t matter, for the machine was no good anyhow without any fuel, and where could I have my tank repaired or get any alcohol, with the whole country plunged in civil war?
“The ants, however, had good cause to conserve their planes, and so must needs land in a field at some distance from me, in order to pursue me. If they had only had sense enough to drop a few bombs on my tree, they would have had me then and there, and the succession to the throne would have been infinitely simplified. But luckily they tried to capture me. Undoubtedly they had by this time figured out who I was, and had decided that I would be a worthwhile prize to bring back alive to my loving brother.
“I remained in the tree until I saw them hover down to the ground, and thus knew what their plans were; then, shedding my toga, I hastily rigged up a dummy of myself, left it in the cockpit, and clambered down the tree. The branches were close, and the foliage thick, so that climbing up that tree would be absolutely impossible for a creature so large as a Formian.
“Yet my dummy body high aloft looked so natural from the ground, that I was sure that the enemy would try to ascend, and would finally resort to chopping, or even gnawing it down, in order to capture me. They had landed to the north of my position, for the evident purpose of cutting off any further advance on my part, so I set out as nearly due west as I could, lining up one tree after another to keep from traveling in a circle, until finally I came to the main highway which runs north from Kuana.”
“But what good did it do you?” interrupted Cabot. “You were stark naked, weren’t you?”
“Naked as the day I was born,” Toron replied. “A dainty situation for a prince of the royal house to be in! But I had scarcely reached the road when night fell. The dense Porovian darkness would serve as my toga for the present, and also would enable me to avoid any approaching kerkools by virtue of the warning radiance cast by their headlights, even before those lights themselves became visible. You see, Cabot, I cannot hear a kerkool, as I could an airplane, for kerkools have trophil engines, which do not radiate, and I do not possess those funny cups on the side of my head, with which you exercise that uncanny earth-sense that enables you to hear things which make no sound. So it is only at night that I could be safe from approaching cars.
“Of course, travel by night was most difficult. I fell off the road many times and bruised myself considerably. Yet there was nothing for me to do but press on to the northward.”
Cabot smiled reminiscently at the word.
“And so,” the young prince continued, “I kept on. I remember figuring out, during one period of rest after a particularly severe fall from the road, that it would take me at least ninety days to reach Lake Luno at the rate at which I was going. But still I pressed on, for there was no alternative.
“Just before daybreak I reached a town, and started to skirt around its edges; but I became terribly involved in some outlying lanes and alleys. Soon I found myself hemmed-in in a narrow street. By groping my way from one side to the other, I discovered that there were high fences on each side, therefore I continued on down this alley. It twisted and turned so that I kept bumping against the fences, and finally had no very clear idea of direction. And then, to add to my discomfiture, a dull glow gradually diffused the air behind me, thus showing that a kerkool was slowly picking its way down the same street. Naturally I started to run, and equally naturally I hadn’t gone far when I collided head-on with a fence. The shock hurled me to the ground, and supplied me with plenty of light for a few moments, only it was light which didn’t do me much of any good.
“But just as the kerkool rounded the turn behind me, I groped my way to my feet, and luckily in so doing I found a door in the fence against which I had just run. It was unlocked. In another instant I was through, with the door carefully shut.
“I felt for some bolt or bar, but there was none, so I set out carefully at right angles to the fence. The light from the kerkool now so filled the street that I could see my way dimly. The place was some sort of garden, either vegetable or flower. I was standing in a bed, but I quickly stepped out and hurried down one of the paths. Meanwhile the kerkool had stopped outside, but for what reason I could not imagine. I doubt if the driver heard me, for I had radiated nothing since entering the garden; but perhaps he had seen me as I passed through the gate.”
“Perhaps the gate made a noise,” suggested Myles mildly.
“Of course not. Gates don’t radiate,” Prince Toron scornfully replied, then laughed, “I forgot. You can hear gates and all sorts of other noiseless sounds; but we Cupians, who have no mushrooms on the sides of our faces, are not so gifted.
“Well, as I was saying, the kerkool stopped, and presently the gate opened, letting a flood of light through into the garden. Then I did run indeed. But, as I heard no radiations behind me, I could not tell whether or not I was pursued. As I ran, and as I got farther and farther away from the fence, my surroundings became dimmer and dimmer, until I could scarcely see, when suddenly there loomed up in front of me a long row of ghostly figures gesticulating wildly, though in perfect silence, and shifting uneasily about, without however disturbing their perfect alignment. My escape was completely cut off. At once I stayed my headlong flight. But my new enemies did not advance upon me, nor did they utter a sound. It was most uncanny!
“Glancing furtively behind me I could see that the distant gate still stood open and that the figure of an ant man was silhouetted in the light which flooded through it. So there was no turning back. The line of enemies in front of me still maintained their positions, and still kept up their restless motions. Most of them stood nearly shoulder to shoulder, but between two of them was a gap several paces wide, and through this gap I suddenly plunged, intending to take them by surprise.
“But it was evidently a trap, for just as I passed through, a slipnoose tightened about my throat and I was thrown backward to the ground. With my last fading consciousness, I could see my enemies about to pounce upon me.”
Toron paused in his narrative, and smiled mysteriously.
“Yes, yes, go on,” said Myles eagerly; but still the prince maintained his silence, with a twinkle in his clear blue eyes.
“Go on,” Myles impatiently repeated. “What sort of folks were these? I have seen many strange sights since my advent on your planet, but never have I seen any group of Cupians stand in a row at night and sway back and forth like trees. Who were they, and what did they do to you when they captured you?”
TORON CONTINUES HIS STORY
But still the young prince did not reply.
Myles Cabot glanced around the little group and saw that they all were grinning broadly. They had heard the story before.
Cabot turned back to Toron again and urged, “Go on. You have just said that, as you dashed through the row of ghostly figures, some one lassoed you around the neck. What happened then?”
“What happened then?” replied the prince tantalizingly. “The next thing that I knew the red light of morning was flooding the eastern sky. I was lying naked on the ground in a garden, while just above me stretched a clothesline with a row of Cupian togas fluttering in the breeze. These were the ghostly row of sentinels of the night before, and the rope which had cut off my wind so summarily had not been a lasso at all, but merely the clothesline itself.”
Myles looked very uncomfortable and sheepish as a general laugh went up at his expense. Then he declared: “Toron, you are a first class story-teller, and you certainly had me fooled. Did it really happen?”
“Honestly,” the boy replied.
And Poblath added: “It couldn’t have been better if he had made it up.”
Then Toron went on with the narrative of his adventures: “The clothesline was Builder-sent in my then naked condition. Hastily grabbing one of the togas from off the rope, I donned it and hurried out of the garden, just as the morning life began to stir in the little village. Before folks had fully awakened for the day’s round of pleasures and work, I had gained the fields and the woods beyond, and there I slept throughout the day.
“Just before nightfall, I found some red clay with which to dye my telltale yellow hair, and then set out once more to grope my weary way northward through the jet black night. Thus I kept on for several days of sleep and nights of travel, until one night a kerkool rounded a turn too quickly for me and deluged me with its light before I had time to scuttle into the woods. Scuttle I did, however, and soon several flash lamps appeared among the trees in pursuit.
“The lights of my enemies showed me their whereabouts and thus enabled me to dodge them. But on the other hand, I could not see to find my way, whereas they could; with the result that finally they surrounded me. There were four of them, four Formians. I was unarmed. ‘Foolhardiness is not courage,’ as Poblath would say. So I surrendered. Luckily they did not recognize me.”
“Why should they,” Cabot remarked, “without your yellow curls and your royal robes?”
“Anyhow,” the prince continued, “they didn’t. I asked them what was the idea of arresting a poor farmer in the middle of the night, and they replied that it was this middle-of-the-night part of it that made my actions suspicious. Where was I going, and what was I doing? I cooked up some sort of a yarn about being out of a job and out of tickets, and they appeared to believe me. However, they said that the orders of Queen Formis were to make a census of all male Cupians, for the purpose of either impressing them into service or killing them, as soon as the army of King Yuri should come along on its triumphal march northward.
“Of course, I did not want to be listed and quartered on any of these villages, where my identity would probably be recognized, so with mock eagerness I asserted my loyalty to my brother—naturally not referring to him as such—and inquired as to whether there were any openings for mechanics in the air service, thanking my luck the while, that we Cupians do not have registration numbers painted on our backs like the Formians.
“As a result of my apparent eagerness to serve in the army, which seemed perfectly plausible in view of my being out of a job, only a few perfunctory questions were asked as to my identity, and I was taken along to an encampment of the ants. I had picked the air service, because that would undoubtedly be manned almost entirely by Formians, who would not be so likely to recognize me as would my own countrymen, unless I happened to run across some of my former instructors at the University of Mooni. I had to take a chance on that.
“To make a long story short, the motley army of the yellow and black allies came along a few days later bound northward, and I was assigned to one of the kerkools which carried repair parts and machine tools for the airplanes. We then proceeded north without event until the entire army went into action south of Lake Luno. And, just in time for this battle, there arrived a large force of fliers gathered from all over the two kingdoms for the final drive that was to end the war.
“According to word brought back to the air base where I was stationed, the army of my baby cousin had only one plane and one antiaircraft gun, but these accounted for quite a number of ant fliers, and soon we were busily at work making repairs.”
“Just a moment,” Myles Cabot interrupted. “Didn’t it give you a guilty feeling to be repairing the airships that were to fly against your own people?”
“Not at all,” Prince Toron replied with a smile, “for most of my efforts were directed toward filing stay-wires almost to the breaking point, drilling small holes in fuel tanks and plugging them with loose wooden pegs, adding grit to the lubricating oil, and performing other similar acts of sabotage. I really believe that I brought down fully as many Formian planes as did the opposing army.
“But in spite of my loyal efforts and those of the brave Cupians fighting under Hah and Tedn and Poblath, the black hordes were too numerous and too well equipped, and so finally triumphed. Word came back to us that the Kew forces had been driven beyond Lake Luno, and that Luno Castle was under siege. Airplanes no longer returned for repairs, and most of our mechanics—ants they were—drifted forward to get a view of the fighting, leaving me all alone.
“Now was my chance to act. Near by stood one ship which had been brought in for some minor adjustments, and on which I had secretly grounded the ignition, thus putting the machine out of commission. It was a simple matter to open the short-circuit, and soon I was humming up into the air.
“Straight up I rose until I could get a pterodactyl’s eye view of the lake and the surrounding hills. Several stads to the north was the slowly retreating line of Hah Babbuh and Buh Tedn, followed by an opposing line of the forces of Yuri, while other ant troops surmounted the heights overlooking the little lake. Over the contending armies flew the navies of Formis, dropping bombs, but their marksmanship was not proving very destructive, for they were flying high to avoid the eddies which rose from the gorges of the mountainous country to the northward.
“Even as I gazed, a party of fliers detached themselves from the advance and returned toward Luno Castle, so I settled slowly down to join them. Of course, they suspected nothing, until I got within a few parastads of them and started dropping bombs. Two planes fell, and you should have seen the rest scatter!
“But just as I was exulting over my momentary victory, my attention was attracted to the island of the Castle. Fighting was in progress on the heights and on the beaches. Cupians were leaping from the cliffs into the water and swimming toward the northern shore of the lake. Many Formians were rowing across from the mainland to the southern shore of the island, where they disembarked and got into the fray, and very soon after that every one of my countrymen had been driven into the water.
“They all seemed to be good swimmers, but on the northern mainland cliffs awaited an eager throng of armed ant-men. Without a moment’s hesitation I turned the nose of my plane straight down and dropped almost to the level of the lake; then, quickly righting her, I skimmed along the cliffs and cleared them of the black enemy with a few well-placed bombs, just in time for the brave survivors of the castle to land and make their way through the hostile cordon.”
“Yes,” Poblath confirmed, “if it hadn’t been for Toron, we never should have succeeded in rejoining the army. We got through the next lines in a storm which followed soon after.”
The young prince continued his story: “But this maneuver placed me below the enemy fliers whom I had just dispersed. Back they came and swooped down on me as I rose to meet them. My plan was to fly straight up through them, for the reason that a target coming head on at a slight angle is the hardest to hit from an airship. But they got me with a bomb before I could make it; and my plane fluttered down into the water like a falling leaf, completely out of control.
“It took me some paraparths to disentangle myself from the floating wreckage; and by the time that I had done so, the storm, of which Poblath speaks, had broken. It was not much of a storm as Porovian storms go, but in the semi-darkness and rough waves I managed to swim undetected to the island, where I concealed myself in one of the shore caves until nightfall, when I ascended to the castle.
“There I found matters much as I imagine you found them, Myles, a day or two later, except that the darling baby king, whom I had never seen alive, was lying dead, kicked unceremoniously into a corner, with the jeweled dagger of my brother stuck through its tiny chest. So I prepared the funeral bier as you found it, and left that note to let you know that Cupia still had a king. That is all.”
“But how did you get through the enemy lines to join our army?” asked Cabot.
“That would take too long to tell,” replied Toron, “for we are anxious to hear your adventures. I had a most difficult time hiding in the hills and escaping from one danger only to fall into another. But luck was with me and I finally got through after several sangths of wandering. Now tell usyourstory.”
So Cabot told of how he had been left for dead at the blockade on the outskirts of Kuana the evening of the assassination, how he had journeyed north with insufficient arms and no headset, how he had been captured and then had escaped in the relay station, how he had fallen into the trap of the ant-bear, how he had seized the kerkool and reached Lake Luno, how he had been burned out of the woods and washed away by the lost river, how he had fought the beasts of the dark in the Caves of Kar until the blue ape had rescued him, how the priests had nursed him back to health, and finally how he had made his way through the forces of Yuri to safety and freedom.
When the comparing of notes had ceased, the newcomer outlined what he had learned of the plans of the army of Yuri.
“Would that we could gain control of the air!” sighed Prince Toron, “but, alas, we have not one single plane. Every day the enemy scouts fly over us, mapping our positions. In fact, the only thing which holds them at all in check is the large number of whistling bees which infest this region, and an occasional shot from our two anti-aircraft guns.”
By this time the pink twilight had fallen over the face of the planet; and Cabot, tired but somewhat relieved, withdrew to the quarters prepared for him, and tumbled into the rough cot which he found there.
The next thing he knew, it was morning. He was awakened by an orderly arriving at his tent, to inform him that the commanding general desired his presence for a trip of inspection along the front. So with some difficulty he shaved, made himself presentable, and reported at headquarters, where Hah was awaiting him with a few of his more immediate personal staff. A rough soldiers’ meal of green milk and alta was served, and then the party started on their reconnaissance.
During the meal, and as they walked along, Hah sketched to his old friend and associate the events which had occurred since Myles and Buh Tedn with their loyal troops had left the mangool at Kuana on the evening of the assassination, to begin their long march northward. Hah had been instructed to hold the jail at all costs, as a rallying place for whatever loyalists might remain at the capital. Throughout the rest of that afternoon and all through the following night, the forces in the mangool gradually augmented. By morning the jail was jammed with supporters of the baby king. They even overflowed into all the surrounding blocks.
But with the daylight came the inevitable, namely a few effective bombs from Formian fliers, which forced Hah Babbuh and his men out into the open. Just as he and his immediate advisers were wondering what course to take, a messenger arrived from Kamel Barsarkar of Ktuth, stating that he was in control of the city and pledging his allegiance to little Kew. Instantly Hah decided to take the road which runs southeastward from Kuana until it skirts the old pale which used to mark the boundary between Cupia and Formia. This road then curves northward again until it reaches the city of Ktuth.
So thither Hah set out, and met with practically no resistance, as Yuri and his ants were all engaged to the northward and were naturally expecting that Hah would head for Lake Luno. But the ant-men soon discovered the plans of the loyal Cupians, and therefore attacked Ktuth in force shortly after the newcomers reached there.
In Cupia there are but two principal roads running from the cities which border the old pale to the northern part of the Okarze Mountains, at the foothills of which lies Lake Luno. One of these roads starts at Kuana, and is the one over which Poblath and his jail kerkools, Buh Tedn and his foot troops, Prince Toron, the army of Yuri, and lastly Myles Cabot himself, made their way. This is the direct road. The other runs north from Ktuth and enters the Okarze range at a point northeast of Luno. And it was over this second road that Kamel and Hah retreated.
It was well that they did, for they gathered additional supporters from every town through which they passed, and they kept the enemy from making a hurried advance along this road, and thus perhaps reaching the mountains, and possibly even Luno Castle, ahead of the main Cupian army.
As it was, Hah and Kamel held the road, beat a masterly retreat and joined the main army as it was entrenching itself just after the battle of Lake Luno.
So much for Hah’s account, which I have greatly boiled down, as its details would have but little bearing on the main events which I am endeavoring to cover.
Now that Myles had heard this latest narrative, he was able to piece together a very complete history of the war to date, compiled from the events in Kuana before all the parties separated at the mangool, and from his own adventures, and the stories told by the priests of Kar, by Prince Toron, and by Hah Babbuh.
During the reconnaissance which now was in progress, Cabot’s attention was chiefly devoted to recalling to memory and checking up these various accounts.
Save for the cheers of the loyal troops, the trip along the front was uneventful until there was heard in the southern skies the familiar purr of a nearing motor. An enemy plane on scout duty. Instantly Hah and Myles and their party got under cover.
On came the plane; but presently another sound was borne to the antennae of the watchers, namely a shrill whistling from the woods on their right.
“Now we’ll see some fun,” Hah softly radiated, “for here comes a whistling bee to do battle with the plane controlled by the ant-men.”
And sure enough, even as he spoke, a huge orange and black insect winged its way into the silver sky. The fight took place almost directly overhead, and was a repetition of the two battles in which Cabot himself had taken part near Saltona, while still a guest of the ant-men at Wautoosa during the early part of his stay on the planet.
Both parties appeared to be adepts in the art of aerial warfare; but, of course, the bee had only his sting and legs with which to defend himself, whereas the plane had its fighting tail, its grapple hooks, and at least one rifle. Given a fair deal, with only side-slips, spirals, loop-the-loops and tailjabs, the bee would have had the advantage; but what chance had he against explosive bullets? And so in due course of time the bee was shot down, and fell screaming to the ground; while the plane, evidently injured to some extent itself, retired again to the southward.
The bee fell quite close to where the observers were stationed; and, impelled by curiosity to see how badly it was damaged—for every whistling bee remaining alive meant just one more obstacle to the air fleet of the enemy—Hah and Cabot and their suits drew near to the disabled creature, keeping their revolvers ready, however, lest it should attack them.
Cabot’s radio headset had been working badly that morning, and now apparently it began playing tricks upon him, for as he walked along he thought he heard a very faint voice calling. “Cabot, Cabot, O Myles Cabot!”
But as his radio was nondirectional, he could not tell whence seemed to come the voice. He stopped and began to adjust the controls. Clearer and yet more clear sounded the voice until, at the shortest wave length of which his set was capable, entirely outside the range of Cupian conversation, the sound became no longer a vague suggestion, but rather an unmistakable voice, speaking the universal language of Poros:
“Cabot, Cabot, O Myles Cabot!”
PORTHERIS
“Cabot,” the voice continued, “do you not know me? Do you not recognize him whom you rescued from the spider web and who afterward spared your life near Saltona, although you had robbed his honey store? It is I, Portheris, who speak to you. Put down your gun and give me help, or I perish.”
There could be no longer any doubt as to the source of that mysterious voice. It was the whistling bee who was speaking! Cabot sheathed his weapon. Switching his controls back to the normal range of Cupian speech, he instructed Hah Babbuh to put up his weapon likewise. Hah, who had heard nothing, was much mystified, but nevertheless obeyed his superior.
Switching to the bee’s wave length again, Cabot said: “Portheris, once you spared me. ‘A life for a life.’ I am yours to command. How badly are you hurt?”
“I cannot exactly tell. But I think and hope that it is nothing more than a broken wing-joint.”
At Cupian wave length Cabot then asked: “Is there with our army any one versed in insect ailments?”
“There is,” Hah replied, “for my aide, Emsul, studied such under the ant men at Mooni. But surely you do not contemplate helping this bee, for it is well known that the whistling bees, although unwittingly they are assisting us in this war, yet nevertheless do not themselves distinguish between Cupians and Formians as enemies.”
“Thisbee is a friend of mine,” the earthman asserted, “and will not hurt Emsul, if I tell it not to. Quick, send for Emsul, for if he can save the life of this whistler, I believe that we are about to receive an important accession to our forces.”
But Hah was still unconvinced. “How can you ‘tell’ him? Whistling bees cannot talk.”
“I can whistle, though,” laconically replied his superior.
So a private was sent on the double quick for Emsul.
The veterinarian, when he arrived a few paraparths later, approached the wounded insect most gingerly; but finally his professional curiosity got the better of him, and he plunged into his work. It was the first time that any physician, either Cupian or Formian, had ever examined a live bee, and accordingly it was a great day for science!
Emsul’s inspection convinced him that all that was amiss was a broken wing and shock, and that with care Portheris would entirely recover, so a huge litter was improvised. Then came the question of getting the enormous creature onto this litter. He was too weak to be of very much assistance; but, by dint of great effort, and much prying by means of poles, and some kicking by the bee’s own legs, they finally got him on. Then six men grasped each end of each handle, and bore the striped creature in triumph to headquarters, where he excited the wonder of the entire staff, and not a little fear.
To appreciate the situation fully, we must use an earthly analogy. Imagine a party of British officers hunting in the jungles of India in the company of a near-human creature from another planet—say Mars, for instance—and coming upon a wounded man-eating tiger. Imagine the man from the skies talking in apparent silence with the tiger, and then informing the astonished hunters that the tiger is a friend of his, and must be brought into camp and treated for his wounds. How could they know that the ferocious beast would not turn and devour them, when cured, or even during the process? Only a supreme confidence in the man from the other planet would induce them to go through with the program.
But the Cupians had just such a trust in Myles Cabot, and so they dared to risk befriending the bee. Emsul set the wing-joint in a splint, and several green cows were driven in for the bee’s delectation. After that he slept.
When Portheris had rested, Cabot called in Toron, Hah Babbuh, Poblath and Buh Tedn, and—alternately tuning to the two ranges of speech—broached to them his plan.
“Portheris,” he asked the bee, “how is it that you know our language although your range is so different from ours?”
“That question has oft been discussed among us,” Portheris replied, “and we have always regarded the other inhabitants of Poros as either stupid or rude. Do you remember shouting to me after the fight at Saltona, ‘Don’t! Was it for this that I saved you from the spider?’ I heard you, and stayed my sting. Yet, when I answered you, you gave no heed. It has always been thus. Cupians and Formians alike have never replied when spoken to by Hymernians, or ‘bees’ as you call us. Why is it, I ask you in turn?”
“Stop this whistling,” interjected Poblath, “and tell us what it is all about.”
Cabot, being tuned to another wave length, did not hear him. The bee, however, heard and informed Cabot, who obligingly shifted his controls and explained.
“As I figure it out,” he said, “these bees can send and receive on either of two different wave lengths. One of these is about the same as that of Cupian speech, and on this the bees merely whistle, so that whistling is the only sound which you ever hear them utter. On the other wave length they talk, but as this is outside the range of your antennae, you never hear it. But they can hear you talk, when they are tuned to receive the whistles of their own breed. And I can both hear them and send to them, by tuning my artificial speech-organs to their higher wave length.”
“It sounds plausible,” Toron assented judicially.
The others were astounded.
Then tuning back to the shorter wave length, the earthman continued his conversation with the bee.
“If you Hymernians have the intelligence to understand and to talk our language, how is it that you have no more sense than to attack the ant men, whose rifles render them invincible against you?”
“I know not,” Portheris replied, “save that we cannot resist a fight. I suppose it is for the same reason that smaller insects seek a light, only to be destroyed.”
“Then if youmustfight,” Cabot suggested, “why do you not fight in swarms, and thus overwhelm your adversaries by sheer weight of numbers?”
“It never occurred to any of us,” the bee answered, simply. “We are an independent race. We fight for the love of fighting, rather than any desire for victory.”
“Would you consider a project whereby you could achieve more effective battles?” Myles asked.
“Probably.”
“What do you think, then, of this plan? I will equip each Hymernian with a fighting man armed with a rifle, to ride upon his back. If you will assemble your brethren together, I will train them in the tactics of aerial battle formation. Of course, all your fighting will have to be done right-side-up, lest you dislodge your riders. No side-slips, no spirals, no loop-the-loops. But this disadvantage will be offset by the weight of overwhelming numbers. By the way, speaking of numbers, how many Hymernians could you muster?”
The bee made a mental calculation.
“About three thousand.”
“Fine!” the earth-man ejaculated. “The Formians at present cannot have more than a thousand ships. Thus, with the training which we can give you, and with the equipment which we can supply to you, you can go forth and conquer your hereditary enemies, the ant men. And when you have returned victorious, you shall live at peace with the Cupians, who will breed for you special herds of the choicest green-cows to satisfy your need for food. What do you say, O Hymernian?”
“It is a wonderful plan!” Portheris murmured devoutly. “May the Great Architect speed the mending of my wing.”
The plan and its approval were then conveyed to the assembled Cupians, who went wild with enthusiasm at the prospect of once more regaining control of the air.
“It spells sure victory,” Hah Babbuh soberly declared.
“Yes,” Poblath the philosopher assented. “The Great Architect builds to peculiar plans, but the resulting edifice is perfect.”
“Let’s go,” said Toron, who was beginning to pick up earth slang from Cabot.
And so, a few sangths later, when Portheris had entirely recovered, he flew away, to return in several days with a vast concourse of his winged brethren.
It was indeed an imposing spectacle. Three thousand orange-and-black bees, each the size of a horse, winging their way through the air in such swarms that they obscured the silver skies and darkened the ground beneath. And the noise! Cabot alone could hear the combined hum of twelve thousand wings, but the Cupians were nearly deafened by the whistling.
Finally all the bees settled down and found resting places on the surrounding rocks. Portheris reported that all had agreed to follow him in this new undertaking, and their battle lust was hard to restrain.
There, in the presence of a large part of the Cupian army and of his own followers, Portheris the First was crowned King of the Bees, and he and Toron concluded the treaty of alliance between Cupia and the bee-people. Cupia at last had an air navy!
But Cupia by no means yet had control of the air. First it would be necessary to discipline and train that wild and lawless winged horde. And some task it was! Cabot had to take personal charge of the instruction, for although others could talktothe Hymernians, he was the only person on all Poros who could hear and understand their replies.
And it was with great difficulty that he kept back the half-trained bees from spoiling the whole show by picking a fight with every Formian airplane which appeared.
At last, however, the animate air fleet were completely subjugated and trained. All that the Cupian leaders awaited was the auspicious moment at which to strike.
FOR CONTROL OF THE AIR
Toron, King of Cupia; Portheris, King of the Bees; and Myles Cabot, the earthman; conferred together on the situation.
Said Toron: “The latest advices from Kuana are that Yuri has convinced the Princess Lilla of your death, O Cabot, and that she has consented to wed him, in order that her poor country may again be at peace.”
“Is that exactly loyal to you, the rightful king?” asked Portheris, but Cabot refused to put the question, for fear of hurting Toron’s feeling. So he explained to the bee that Lilla’s high patriotism transcended any mere personal loyalty.
“How do you come by this information?” he then asked Toron. “And how do you know it to be authentic? For, if true, it demands immediate action. Otherwise I am loath to strike until the time is right. Most of the wireless relay-stations have been destroyed. Is some supporter of ours at the capital possessed of a sufficiently powerful set to send from Kuana to here? And, if so, how do you prevent the interception of messages?”
Toron’s reply astounded him: “Yuri’s forces naturally expect radio from the army of Myles Cabot, the radio man; and so I have dropped wireless for the present and have turned to optics. I have been eager to tell you about this for some time, but have not yet had the opportunity.
“My apparatus consists of a telescope on a tripod. At the focus of the telescope is a small electric-light bulb. Thus, when two of these telescopes are focused on each other, at a distance say of eleven or twelve stads, the flashing of one bulb can be distinctly seen in the other telescope, and cannot possibly be intercepted except on a path less than a third of a parastad—about twelve feet—wide, even if the enemy should learn of the existence of our device, which there is no evidence that they have done. But, to make assurance doubly sure, both instruments are masked with screens which admit only the black light about which you taught me. Do you remember?
“We have spies in Kuana,” he went on, “equipped with these instruments, and we have relay stations at intervals all the way from here to there. We use the dot-dash code, of course.”
“Toron,” exclaimed Myles Cabot, “you are a genius! Your invention has probably saved the day. Send word to Kuana that Myles Cabot has returned to life and is about to march to do battle against his foes. I guess that that will not give too much information as to our plans. ‘March’ is good, for they will never suspect that it means ‘fly.’ Eh, Portheris?”
The bee wiggled his antennae in appreciation.
Hah Babbuh, Buh Tedn and Poblath were then called in, and the plans were laid for the attack.
The next morning, as the invisible sun rose over Poros, there rose also the serried ranks of the orange and black air navy of the bees, led by Myles Cabot, mounted on the back of Portheris, the striped King of the Hymernians. Each bee carried a Cupian sharpshooter, armed with a rifle and a basket of bombs. The whole formation flew over the hills and ravines which housed the gathering armies of Cupia, then out across the broad valley which divided the two contending forces.
The Formians, and the few renegade Cupians who fought with them under the banners of Yuri, were prepared for an attack, by reason of Cabot’s message which had been flashed to the capital, but they were totally unprepared for such an attack as this. The ant sentinels, eagerly scanning the opposing row of hills for the first appearance of the foot troops of Cabot, were picked off by fire from the air almost before they could give warning. Then the animated planes swept on and began bombing the hastily assembling Formians.
Close in the wake of the bees, came the foot troops of Cupia, surging across the plain and easily mopping up the demoralized Formians.
Soon, however, appeared the battle planes of the ants; but they were surprised and bewildered at the new aerial tactics of their enemies. They had fought against bees before; but never before against bees manned with sharpshooters. And so, although the advance of the striped fleet was stayed and many bees were shot down, an equal number of planes fell victims of the encounter.
By night the Cupians had consolidated their position to the south of Lake Luno, and Cabot had established his headquarters in the ruins of Luno Castle.
That evening, at a conference with his generals, it was decided that it would not do for the advance to continue too precipitately. In the first place, the air force ought not to be permitted to get too far ahead of the infantry. And in the second place, the casualties among the bees had been altogether too high. Planes could be rebuilt by the Formians, but bees could not be bred to order for Cupia. This was something which Cabot had not figured on.
So, now that the first shock attack was over, the advance progressed more slowly in the days that followed, strategy taking the place of brute force. Captured airplanes were repaired and manned by ex-flyers of the old Cupian air navy, and were used whenever possible in place of the bees, but still the mortality of these winged allies continued, until it became evident that, unless something were speedily done, the ant-men would soon regain control of the air. But what was to be done?
One day an aviator from a distant point on the front landed at headquarters with a message. As he stood talking to Myles Cabot, he suddenly remarked: “Why, I left my engine running. How careless of me!”
And he looked intently at his plane for a moment, whereat the motor ceased its purring.
“How did that happen?” Cabot exclaimed. “Does your engine stop whenever you want it to?”
“I merely spoke to it, and it obeyed me,” answered the Cupian, simply, yet with suppressed pride. “There are several of us in the air service who have learned that trick.”
“What do you mean? How can mere words stop an alcohol motor?”
“Oh, it isn’twordsthat do it,” the airman explained, “but rather a sort of radiation akin to speech. The right kind of an emanation from our antennae will effectively interfere with the ignition at a distance of as much as one parastad.”
“And can the same principle be invoked against a kerkool?”
“Of course not,” laughed the aviator, “for kerkools employ trophil engines, which ignite by compression, rather than by electricity.”
“So they do,” said Cabot. “That is what we call a ‘diesel’ engine on Minos.”
And then there was born in the mind of the radio man, the germ of a great idea. He hurriedly sent for Toron, ablest electrician of the whole planet, and for Oya Buh, who had been professor of electricity at the University of Kuana before the civil war.
First, he had the flyer demonstrate to them his ability to stop his machine by rays from his antennae. Then he outlined his plan as follows: “If the weak emanations from the speech organs of a Cupian can stop ignition at a distance of twelve paces, cannot we build a directional radio apparatus which will bring down enemy planes at a distance of a stad or more?”
“That ought to be possible,” Oya gravely assented, “but the apparatus would probably be too heavy to mount on a plane. Or on a bee,” he added, laughing.
“Mount it on a kerkool, then,” Cabot replied. “It would be infinitely more effective than an antiaircraft gun, and the planes which we shoot down by this means will be unharmed for our own immediate use.”
“But what is to prevent Yuri from learning of our contrivance and employing it against our planes?” interjected Toron. “For there be great electricians among the Formians.”
“That is where the second part of my plan comes in,” Cabot replied, with a twinkle in his eye. “We will equip allourplanes withtrophilengines. Let us send for Mitchfix, the trophil expert.”
And so it came to pass that the energies of all the mechanics of the Cupian army were turned to two tasks; namely, the trophilizing of the airplanes, and the construction of several kerkool-mounted radio machines for the propagation of the mysterious and fatal ray which was to stop the engines of the enemy. Meanwhile, of course, the advance stopped. The infantry dug in, and the activities of the bees were limited to the irreducible minimum necessary to keep off hostile scouting planes. Delay was irksome; but now Cabot, assured of eventual air control, could afford to wait.
One day, as he was scouting along the front on the back of Portheris, the whistling bee, they were suddenly boxed by three enemy planes which appeared unexpectedly from three different quarters. Such carelessness! Why had he, on whom so much depended, ventured so far from his own lines without an adequate escort? Well, there was nothing left to do now, but fight, so he unslung his rifle and entered into the fray.
Cabot was no mean shot. An animate airplane, to which he had merely to speak and which could converse with him in turn, was a decided advantage. But, even so, he was no match for three of the best flyers of the ant navy.
Nevertheless he brought down one enemy plane before the other two forced him to descend. His bee fell with him into a narrow gorge with precipitous sides. Although the bee was severely wounded, Cabot made the landing without mishap.
He had noticed during the fight that his enemies had apparently directed their shots at his mount rather than at him; and now, instead of dropping bombs, which would have been very effective in the confined space in which he found himself, they hovered down and attacked him on foot.
He still had his rifle, his bandolier of cartridges, and several hand grenades. The large boulders, with which the floor of the valley was strewn, afforded ample cover. The ant men were advancing with only their rifles, but also were taking advantage of the cover. Sniping between both sides continued without results.
Finally one of the ants held up two crossed sticks—the Porovian flag of truce—and Cabot stepped out into the open for a conference. Then, with a cry of glad surprise, he recognized the Formian. It was none other than the ant who had captured him on his first day on this planet, rescued him from the carnivorous plant, had acted as his defense counsel in his trial before Queen Formis, and had been his and Lilla’s friend in Kuana.
“Doggo!” he exclaimed, “what are you doing here? I haven’t seen you, or heard of you, since Peace Day, 358.”
“Fighting for my own country, of course,” Doggo laconically replied. “But to get down to business: ‘A life for a life.’ In your accursed ‘War of Liberation,’ you very kindly gave orders that I was to be spared. I now spare your life, for that and for old time’s sake. But I must ask you to surrender unconditionally.”
“What then?”
“I shall then take you to Kuana as a prisoner,” answered the ant. “I cannot promise that there your life will be spared, but I will use every bit of my influence, which is apt to be great, as I am now the winko of the entire air navy of Formia. You know me well enough to depend upon my word.”
“Yes, Doggo, old friend, I do,” said Cabot. He thought intently for a moment, then tuned his radio set to a shorter wave length and hastily addressed the bee: “Are you so badly hurt that you cannot reach headquarters?”
“I think not,” was the reply.
“Then tell Hah Babbuh that I go to Kuana a prisoner—to rescue the Princess Lilla.”
“But how can I tell him?” asked the bee, “seeing as you, alone of all the Cupians, can hear our speech, although all of us Hymernians can hear all of you.”
That indeed presented a complication which had never before occurred to the radio man. The ability of the bees to receive on the wave length of the Cupians had been all that had been necessary for tactical purposes, and any communicationsfromthe bees had always been transmitted through Cabot. But at last he had an inspiration, which he explained as follows:
“I do not know how much you Hymernians understand about radio. Have you ever observed Cupians in battle formation?”
“Many times,” replied the bee.
“Then undoubtedly you have noticed the little boxes which our officers wear strapped upon their heads between their antennae.”
The bee assented.
Cabot continued: “These are selective sending and receiving sets. Each one contains a wave trap, which silences the radiations of ordinary speech. You bees speak at a different wave length from the Cupians. Well, these boxes contain a wave length adjuster, which, by much the same principle, enables the officers to send to each other at different wave lengths, above the din of battle-cries.”
“I get the general idea.”
“Go then to Toron,” Myles directed. “Speak to him, and point with your paw to his selective set. Perhaps that will suggest to him to tune the instrument to your wave length, and perhaps your wave length is within the range of that instrument. At all events, it is our only chance.”
At this point, noticing that Doggo was frantically agitating his antennae, the radio man tuned back to Doggo’s wave length just in time to hear him say: “Come, my friend, reply to my offer. Will you, or will you not, surrender?”
“I surrender,” replied Cabot, “but on one condition, namely, that you spare the life of my faithful bee.”
“Granted,” said Doggo. “From henceforth you are my prisoner.”
THE BEASTS OF KUANA
And so, Portheris, the whistling bee, returned to headquarters with his message.
And so Cabot, the earth-man, returned southward in a few parths to the city from which he had wearily journeyed but a short while ago. He had departed a fugitive; he returned a prisoner.
On the trip back in the ant airplane, he and Doggo conversed freely, out of antennae shot of the pilot.
“I bear you no malice, my old friend,” said the ant man, “for I blame Prince Yuri for the unhappy condition of my country, more than I blame you. Had it not been for his treachery, our two nations would still be living at peace, as they were when you first set foot on this planet. Were it not for his recent machinations, what is left of Formia would still be living unmolested within the restricted borders to which the ‘War of Liberation’ reduced us. In such a position, we could win our way back by our mental superiority, our greater industry and our culture; instead of risking, in the scales of war, what little we have left.
“Prince Yuri cares not to reestablish Formia. He is merely using us as means to his own ends, and will turn against us when it suits his private purpose. You and I may yet live to fight side by side against the usurper. But, for the present, he is the official ally of Formia, and I am fighting for my country.”
“As is just and right,” Cabot added. “But, tell me how will Yuri and Formia relish your bringing me back alive, instead of dead?”
“I have thought of that,” his captor answered. “Of course, there is danger that the populace may rally to your rescue. But I do not intend that the populace shall get a sight of you. If Yuri wishes you dead, he doubtless will enjoy killing you with his own hands. But I rather believe that he would prefer to have you alive for bargaining purposes. Do you not think that your princess would trade even her beautiful body in exchange for your safety?”
“No, I do not!” the earthman stoutly declared. “You do not realize her intense loyalty to her country. For little Kew, she might have done so, as he was not only her baby, but also her king. But for me, never. Yuri misplayed, indeed, when he killed little Kew, for I am sure that Yuri would rather have Lilla even than the throne.”
“Then why does he not swap the throne for Lilla?” asked Doggo devilishly.
“Just what do you mean?” asked Cabot.
Doggo explained: “You have cited the intense loyalty of the princess royal. Also you have expressed an opinion that Yuri would prefer Lilla to the throne. Then would it not be natural for him to offer to abdicate in favor of your candidate, Toron, in return for Lilla’s marrying him upon your sudden decease, which could be conveniently arranged? Such a settlement would bring permanent peace to this harassed continent, and every one would be happy—except, of course, Lilla and you. But you would be dead in the Elysian fields beyond the boiling seas, and she would be upheld by the consciousness of her noble martyrdom.”
“My God!” Myles exclaimed, “she might acceptthat.”
“Never fear, I shall not suggest it,” the ant man replied, “for I am still your friend to that extent, in spite of the warfare between our two countries.”
Cabot heaved a sigh of relief.
“And what of Formis?” he asked.
“Oh,” answered Doggo, “she is not the great Formis whom you knew. That Formis is dead. This queen is merely a newly-hatched one, who does pretty much as Yuri suggests.”
The conversation then veered into personal reminiscences; the two former friends, now captor and captive, each recounting what had befallen him since their last meeting before the previous war.
As Cabot told of his age-long journey northward to rejoin his army, the ant remarked dryly, “Poblath will have to invent a proverb to the effect that ‘You cannot kill a Minorian.’”
Cabot laughed and said, “He has already done so.”
The tension was relieved for the first time since his capture.
Finally they reached Kuana, and hovered down onto the landing stage on the palace, the very palace where he and Lilla had lived together so happily as guests of the king, her father. That palace was now occupied by the usurper Yuri and the black hag Formis; and Lilla was here held a prisoner by the murderer of her father and of her babe.
Cabot was manacled, and then was led into the presence of the king and queen: Yuri, the man with the heart of a beast; and Formis, the ant with the brains of a man. Together they stood beneath a scarlet canopy, which set off to perfection the shiny black naked body of the ant queen, and the black toga which her ally was wearing in honor of their alliance.
“Well, this is indeed a pleasure!” King Yuri exclaimed, rubbing his hands, as Myles Cabot entered the throne-room. “Welcome to Kuana, your cursed spot of sunshine. Formis, permit me to present to you the arch-enemy of your people.”
The black queen inclined her head slightly, but said nothing. Cabot, too, maintained a dignified silence. But his eyes showed the intense hatred and scorn which he felt for the betrayer of his country and murderer of his son.
Yuri continued, “To-night you shall be my guest. To-morrow I shall decide how best you can be made to serve the welfare of my beloved people. By the way, would you like to see your wife?”
Cabot was caught off his guard.
“Yes!” he responded eagerly.
Yuri smiled.
“I think it can be arranged,” he said. “Ho, sentinel, bring in the princess.”
One of the ant soldiers withdrew, and presently returned with Princess Lilla, who entered the audience chamber inquiringly.
In spite of his studied composure, Myles started forward. Here was his beloved wife, from whom he had been absent scarcely a moment since their marriage, until the cruel civil war had separated them. How he longed to rush to her side, and hold her in his love-starved arms and whisper comforting words into her antennae! But, with a great effort, he restrained himself. Yuri must not be permitted to see his emotion. So the earthman stood still, as his loyal wife swept into the room.
She was no longer the little girl whom Myles Cabot had married. Bearing a child, and the subsequent sorrows and horrors which had crowded upon her, had made her a woman since he had left her on the fatal morning many sangths ago, to fly to the Peace Day exercises which had turned out so fatally. A beautiful woman she was. Her sorrows had not marred her fair face, and she still outshone all the other women of her race, or of any race for that matter. Cabot noted with a pang that she was dressed, not in royal blue as became one who was in mourning, but rather in black, presumably by order of Yuri, in honor of the visiting queen from ant-land.
Her eyes sought those of the king, then followed his glance until they rested on her husband. For a moment she stood aghast, then rushed across the room and flung her arms around his neck.
“Myles! Myles!” she cried. “Is it really you? They told me you were dead. Then came the news that you had rejoined your troops and were leading them again to victory. The people believed and were glad, but Yuri told me that it was all a lie, concocted to win the throne away from him, and that your body lay burned to a crisp in the woods north of Lake Luno. Yet still I would not marry him, even for the sake of my country, while there yet was a chance that you lived. But what brings you here? And why are you handcuffed?”
“Doggo brings me here,” Cabot replied with a wan smile, “and I am handcuffed lest I wring the neck of the reigning monarch.”
“Which doubtless would give you great pleasure,” Yuri interposed.
“Very great pleasure, your majesty,” Cabot admitted with mock deference.
Yuri turned to Lilla with a devilish grin and spoke, “At last I have decided what steps to take for the welfare of my beloved country. The assembly will pass a law annulling your marriage on the ground that your husband is nothing but a lower animal. Then you shall have your choice of marriage to me as the price of Cabot’s life, or of life with me as my slave and Cabot’s death. Two sangths shall you have in which to decide. Meanwhile the woofuses shall guard your husband in the arena. I have spoken.”
Said Cabot, “Choose my death, O princess; for the armies of Cupia will avenge it, and Toron will become king.”
“Not Toron!” Lilla exclaimed. Then caught herself, and to King Yuri she replied: “I have chosen, king. You may kill Myles Cabot, if you can, but I will never disgrace Cupia by marrying a beast. There may be some doubt aboutCabotbeing aCupian, but there is no doubt thatyouare abeast. ‘As a man thinketh in his heart, so is he.’ Now I have spoken.”
“Which reminds me,” said Yuri, not in the least perturbed, “that I must kill Poblath too, and add his lovely wife, Bthuh, to my retinue. Ho, hum, ’tis a weary job being a king. There are so many details to look after. Take them away; I am tired.” And he turned and engaged in some inaudible conversation with the black queen.
Lilla flung her arms once more around the neck of her shackled husband. Then both were seized by the ant-soldiers, and were led out through different exits. During the interview, Doggo had withdrawn, doubtless because he felt that it might be difficult for him to restrain himself, when he saw the indignities to which he had subjected his old friend.
Myles wondered if King Yuri would deprive him of his electrical antennae, for that had always been Yuri’s move in the past. But no, for he was dragged away with his set still intact.
Then the guard wrapped Myles completely up in a blanket, and bundled him into a kerkool.
“A good sign,” thought Myles. “It indicates that Yuri fears to show me to the populace. Well, here I am in Kuana, and a lot of good it does me! Anyhow, I have seen my Lilla, and she is well. Also, I know how matters stand at court. The new ant-queen is a colorless creature.”
And he smiled to himself at the pun. Somehow, he felt the same calm detachment which he had experienced during his trial for treason before the former Queen Formis. He could not help remembering that, after all, this was only a nest of ants!
But he lost some of his calm when he found what was in store for him. The kerkool stopped in front of the Kuana stadium, and he was led into the arena. There his shackles were removed and he was given food and drink. Then five woofuses were led forth. Each woofus wore a leather collar buckled about its neck. To this collar was fastened a pole held by two ant-men, and a chain held by another, by means of which devices the clawing scratching purple creature was kept under control.
Cabot was now placed in the center of a circle formed by five equally spaced posts, each post being about two woofus-chain-lengths from the next. To each of these posts was fastened the chain of one woofus; and then the ant men withdrew, leaving Cabot to his own devices.
The woofus is the most dreaded carnivore of all Poros. It is about the size and general appearance of an earthly mountain-lion, except that it is hairless, is lavender in color, has webbed feet, and has pale blue antennae instead of ears. A woofus is a match for ten Cupians in fair fight; and its chief occupation, when not fighting, is just to sit and howl.
Most of the fauna of the planet are either reptiles or insects. Birds are unknown. Mathlabs, fireworms, blue apes and Cupians are about the only mammals. The insects run through all the sizes from tiny bugs up to the ant men and the huge whistling bees. The reptiles range from the brink, which is a tiny kangaroo-like toad a quarter-inch in length, up to the woofus, which I have just described.
A pleasant situation for Cabot, indeed, to have five of these howling beasts staked about him in a circle.
Now he understood why he had been permitted to retain his apparatus. It was so that he might be tormented by the howling of these guards.
“THE LION AND THE MOUSE”
There is an ancient Cupian fable about a brink which once did a favor for a woofus, thus so surprising the woofus that he died of the shock. But in the present case, the brinks figured a little bit differently, as you shall see as you read on.
To realize Cabot’s predicament, take a pair of compasses and draw five equally spaced circles, each tangent to the next.
The center of each circle will then represent a post, and the circle will represent the area in which the woofus, tied to that post can bite. The small star-shaped figure, bounded by the five circles, will represent the space in which Myles Cabot was to live during the next twenty-four days, while King Yuri was getting Cabot’s marriage annulled by the Assembly, and was trying to persuade Lilla to reconsider her choice.
What irony of fate! The ground which Cabot now occupied was the identical spot where, a little over two years ago, he had directed the firing of the first shot for Cupian freedom. Here had been erected by him the stadium to commemorate his victory over the Formians. And here he now languished in his own stadium, a prisoner of those same accursed Formians, whom he had thought he had driven from Cupia forever. What irony of fate!
The first night of his peculiar incarceration was uneventfully spent. Cabot switched off his headset, so as to shut out the screaming of the purple beasts, and slept the sleep of the just. The joke was on the king, if that august personage had thought to annoy his victim with the noise of the woofuses.
The next morning was unusually hot. Myles awoke, stretched himself, sat up and watched his purple jailers. The largest of them appeared to be ill. Its eyes were running, and its head was covered with swarms of brinks, those tiny hopping lizards which infest the concrete roads and other flat open spaces of Poros.
Instantly Cabot’s interest turned to pity. This poor creature was, of course, a dreaded carnivore, a man-eater, and all that; but it was in dire trouble. Switching on his headset, he started talking to the woofus in a soothing crooning tone.
The huge beast pricked up its antennae, then whined and rubbed its paw across its face, to wipe off some of the crawling brinks. The other purple saurians eyed Cabot hungrily and ferociously.
Cabot’s bowl of water from the night before was still standing at his side. Tearing off one corner of his toga, he dipped it in the bowl, and shook a few drops onto the head of the sick woofus. The poor beast stiffened with surprise, then settled down again and whined a bit more contentedly.
Creeping cautiously forward, Cabot wiped some of the brinks away with the cool, wet rag. The whining ceased, and the woofus flattened itself out with a sigh. It made no attempt to strike at its benefactor; and Cabot, emboldened, drew the bowl nearer and tenderly cleaned every filthy brink from the creature’s face.
As the washing was concluded, the woofus opened its eyes and stared steadily at the man, yet still made no move to attack him; and Cabot with a sudden inspiration, began to scratch the edge of the woofus’ jaw. The beast stretched its claws with pleasure and submitted to the caress.
Thus the prisoner seemed to have made a friend where one would be least expected. Yet, when the man moved as if to pass by his keeper, the latter growled menacingly and started to rise; whereat Cabot beat a hasty retreat to the center of his prison.
After a while the huge woofus settled down again. Then it whined softly. Once more Cabot bathed its sore eyes. They were friends again.
All this time Cabot kept a careful watch for his Formian jailers, and finally one of them arrived with breakfast, which was shoved in to him at the end of a long pole. Plain fare, but satisfying, alta and green milk.
Cabot asked for wash water, rags, and a clean toga. The wash water and rags were forthcoming, but the toga was refused. Then the Formian withdrew, and Cabot resumed the care of his patient.
Off and on throughout the day he bathed the poor creature’s eyes and massaged its tired muscles.
Toward evening Yuri appeared, carrying a long whip, with which he proceeded to flick the five purple guardians into a state of frenzy.
“Stand up, or I’ll flick you, too,” he called out to the captive. “Haven’t you sufficient manners to stand in the presence of your king?”
“Yes,” Myles answered, “but, according to your own statement, I am only a mere animal, by which token you are notmyking, unless you lay claim to being king of the beasts.”
In reply, Yuri gave a few vicious swipes at Cabot’s pet woofus, which strained at its chain with rage. The earthman went white.
“Are you doing that to frighten me, or just for the fun of it?” he asked tensely.
“Not that it is any of your business,” answered the king, “but, as a matter of fact, I am doing it merely because it gives me intense pleasure to demonstrate my power over these five fierce creatures, any one of which is a match for ten Cupians.”
“Then stop it at once,” Cabot thundered, rising to his feet, “or, by all that is holy, I’ll risk my life to untie their chains.”
Yuri saw that Myles meant it, and so desisted, but could not resist a parting shot: “So you did stand up for your king after all! I thought I could get you to.”
And he strode away, laughing.
When Yuri had made his exit from the arena, Cabot walked over to his woofus, which, with foaming mouth and staring eyes, was still straining at its leash. Myles patted him on the back. It was the supreme test. The woofus ceased his straining and rubbed against the man’s side. So they were still friends, and here was a friendship which would last.
Night came, and no guards entered the dimly lighted stadium. Cabot’s huge pet slept with its head contentedly in his lap like a St. Bernard dog. As the earthman stroked the sleek purple hide, he suddenly had an idea, and immediately put it into execution. He unstrapped and removed the collar from the neck of the beast.
“You are free, my friend,” said he, “and if you take your freedom, it will leave me free too.”
At his words, the woofus stirred, stood erect, shook itself, and then bounded off silently into the darkness. And the captive, now a captive no longer, followed through the gap which the woofus had left vacant. In a few strides, he reached the parapet which divided the tiers of seats from the sands, and was just about to leap up and grasp its edge, when a swift rushing form collided with him and sent him sprawling. Then great webbed paws were planted on his chest, and he saw the horrid face of a woofus leering down at him out of the half-darkness.
Nearer and nearer came the dripping jaws to his face, until—finally—the creature lapped his cheek. It was his own woofus, come back for him.
And thereupon Cabot abruptly changed his plans.
All through that warm tropical night, Cabot, the earthman, and this huge purple saurian of the planet Venus, ranged the Kuana stadium together, alone and in silence.
Myles started teaching the beast to heel, to lie down, and to attack, at his command. And, as the first touch of pink diffused the eastern sky, the two returned to the charmed circle together, the collar was snapped again in its proper place, and Cabot switched off his headset and lay down in the center for a sleep.
Night after night this performance was repeated, until the woofus was as letter-perfect as any dog ever trained. Then Myles started to teach the woofus to hate the other four, above which it towered now that it had regained its health. In fact he had never seen a larger or a more perfect specimen.
Meanwhile Cabot’s hair and beard grew long and unkempt, and his toga became indescribably filthy. And every day came Yuri to gloat over him. But never again did he bring his whip, and the purple beasts, although they glared at him with the eyes of rage, did nothing further to evidence their intense hatred of him.
One day Yuri brought Lilla. Her compassion at her husband’s appearance was pitiful, but what could she do?
“My poor, poor dear, how are you?” she cried.
“Fine,” Myles replied. “Never felt better in my life. Please don’t worry about me, dear. I know I look horribly, but I feel perfectly fit, and with a few more days of rest and wholesome food, I shall be able to wring the necks of at least four out of these five woofuses.”
“Good!” Yuri exclaimed, clapping his hands. “Then we shall have capital fun, for I plan to have you fight all five of them in the arena day after to-morrow, for the delectation of our sport-loving people. The two sangths will then be up, and the princess has not relented.”
“But please, Yuri, do me one little favor,” begged Lilla. “Please let Myles shave, and give him a clean toga for the occasion.”