have you done with her, false friend?” demanded Grandon.
Tholto removed his helmet and cast it to the floor.
“Kill me, Grandon of Terra,” he said sadly, in a tone totally unlike that of Tholto the braggart. “I bare my head to a just executioner. I am not fit to live.”
“Answer my question, accursed slave. Where’ is our Torrogina?”
“I do not know. I left her here for a short time while I went for a drink or two of wine. When I returned she was gone. My head was reeling from the drink when I entered. Many years have passed since I tasted liquor and I over estimated my capacity. I sank to the floor and dreamed a horrible dream in which I saw her torn to pieces by a huge animal. She is dead—dead, and I am the cause.”
“The fool is drunk,” said Oro. “Pay no attention to his ravings. She is probably concealed somewhere nearby.”
After binding Tholto and setting a man to guard him, they searched the cave, calling loudly to Vernia, but there was no reply. Rotha was positive that she had not left the cave previous to Tholto’s entrance, as the mouth was only a few steps from, the place where she had served drinks to the men, and she could not have missed seeing her.
Grandon’s attention was attracted by’ a yawning hole about three feet in diameter, which had previously escaped his observation, as it was partly concealed by a section of jutting rock. He substituted a torch for the nearly consumed fire brand and entered on hands and knees followed by Oro. The opening grew larger as they progressed, until they could stand erect.
Presently they emerged in the open air. They were in a fern forest, not more than a hundred feet from the camp, having come completely through the hill that screened it from the coast.
Oro stooped and, with a muttered exclamation, picked up some strips which had been torn from a sack and knotted together.
“She came this way,” he said, excitedly, “for here are the strips with which Tholto bound her.”
His words were followed by a cry of horror from Grandon which brought Oro to his side.
“The dream of Tholto,” he said, brokenly. “It is a reality. Look!”
On the ground before them was a pool of freshly congealed blood. Beside it lay a small Albine gauntlet—the gauntlet of Vernia!
As Grandon sorrowfully retraced his steps followed by the horrified Oro, he pressed the little Albine gauntlet to his lips. With a dazed feeling of unreality he sat down before the fire. All night long he sat there, staring at the licking flames, unmindful of what went on around him.
Tholto and his stupefied companions, disarmed and bound by Grandon’s men, lay in a long row under the watchful eyes of four guards. The others slept, with the exception of Oro, who sat across the fire with Rotha, replenishing it from time to time. The two conversed in awed whispers, speculating on the possible fate of the culprits.
The dawn found Grandon gazing at a heap of smoking embers. His four weary guards wakened their slumbering companions and lay down for a well-earned rest. The stupefied drinkers slept on, oblivious of the sounds that went on about them, as the awakened men prepared the simple breakfast of hot roots and stewed mushrooms.
Marsh-men are expert fishermen, and four of them rigged some crude but efficient tackle by tearing up several food sacks for line, using thorns for hooks and stones for sinkers. They fished along the shore only a few yards from the camp and soon had caught more than the entire company could possibly eat. The fish were boiled in the same manner as the roots and mushrooms, and made a most pleasing addition to the morning meal.
When all was ready, Oro fearfully approached his young commander with a shell of steaming roots, another of mushrooms, and a toothsome fish. Mechanically, Grandon took the food and tried to eat, but it seemed that every morsel choked him. He rose unsteadily to his feet, as his legs were cramped and numb.
Grandon walked straight to where Tholto lay, bound and helpless. He called two of the men. “Remove his armor,” he said curtly.
The command was obeyed with celerity, while the soldiers crowded around to see how the culprit was to be punished. When his armor was removed the prisoner stood silently, almost impassively, waiting his death sentence.
“I should kill you, Tholto,” said Grandon, “yet I cannot bring myself to slay a helpless prisoner. You have proved yourself a man without a sense of honor or gratitude. As such, you are not fit to wear the armor or bear the weapons of a soldier of Granterra. I found you a naked, primitive savage, and return you thus to your native jungle. You will have a fighting chance for life. It is a slender one, but must be preferable to immediate death from your point of view. Go!”
Tholto, no less amazed than those about him at this unexpected reprieve, climbed the rugged hillside and disappeared over the brow.
Meanwhile, most of the sleeping deserters had awakened. They looked about them in astonishment, and several tried unsuccessfully to rise, but the bonds held them.
“Are we to let them go, also?” asked Oro.
“Cut their bonds, and see that all are thoroughly awakened.”
The men were forthwith released, and the more drowsy were shaken until completely awake, after which they all stood before him, the deserters unarmed, surrounded by the others.
“I extend complete amnesty to you who forsook your country in its hour of need, following the leadership of Tholto, on one condition. That is, that you promise to return at once to Granterra, tell Joto all that has happened, and enlist your services with those who are fighting for the supremacy of man in the Valley of the Sabits. Do you promise?”
To a man they assented eagerly.
“Give them their weapons and provisions,” ordered Grandon. “Let them begin their journey now.”
The craft was quickly loaded and pushed out to sea. When it had departed Grandon called his men around him once more.
“The quest that we began with some scant hope of success has ended in complete failure,” he said sadly. “Last night when I learned of the death of our beloved princess I was ready and willing to die. One thought alone restrained me. I have a duty to perform. Far to the north of us live a people who have been enslaved and driven from their homes without just cause. They made me prince of their country, which they call Uxpo, and I fought in their behalf until Providence intervened and carried me away through a series of strange adventures. I cannot command you to accompany me on the journey I will begin today. Nor will I entreat you. If there be those among you who love adventure for its own sake, I extend the invitation to come with me and share the fortunes, or mayhap, the misfortunes of war. I make no promises, nor do I offer any rewards, though if Uxpo should win to freedom those who assisted in her deliverance will not go unremembered.”
Oro was the first to speak. “Where Grandon of Terra leads, Oro follows,” he said warmly.
“He fought for the freedom of our country,” said another. “I am at your service, Grandon of Terra.”
“And I—and I…” shouted the others in a chorus. “Lead us to Uxpo.”
“Load the boat and make ready to push off,” said Grandon. “We will start at once. Some three or four days’ journey from here a great river empties into the Azpok. By following it we will come to Uxpo.”
Chapter 16
Prince Destho, now provisional emperor of Reabon, moved his slender, leonine form to a more comfortable position on the scarlet cushions of his throne and turned his countenance in the direction of Zueppa, as he smiled a doubting smile.
“Do you expect me to believe such a wild tale as this, knave?” he growled. “Authentic reports had it that