before twilight loomed ahead, followed by daylight, and we emerged in the open air on a narrow shelf of rock against which the topmost fronds of a giant tree fern brushed. Around and beyond this mighty fern stretched a forest of its fellows, coming up to the very edge of the mountains that held the homes of the cave-apes.
Graak sniffed the air for a moment, then leaped for the nearest fern frond, which sagged beneath his weight as he caught it with both hands. His great body swung precariously a full seventy feet above the ground as he went up the slanting frond, hand over hand, until he reached the trunk. After sniffing at this for a moment, he descended, feet first, to the ground.
I followed his example, making much more work of it than he, and descending so slowly that he stamped impatiently before I reached the ground. I wondered how Taliboz had been able to negotiate this route with his inert burden until I noticed a long, slender cord dangling from the end of one of the fern fronds, its lower end about ten feet from the ground. The traitorous noble had evidently lowered Loralie by means of this cord to within reach of the ground, where he had evidently cut her loose and carried her off.
While Graak fidgeted impatiently, I leaped and caught the end of the cord. I called him to help me, and together we pulled until the frond broke off and came crashing to the ground. With my flint knife I quickly cut the cord from the branch and, coiling it about my body, told Graak to proceed. Feeling that we might have a journey ahead of us, I thought of several ways in which the cord might be useful.
We had not gone more than a mile in the fern forest when the cave-ape pointed to a set of smaller footprints beside Taliboz’s and said, “The she walked from here.”
Recovering at this point from the paralysis induced by the tork projectile, she had gone on with her abductor, willingly or not.
Although the footprints led at first toward the west, they presently began to turn southwest, toward the coast.
For many hours we followed the trail without food or drink; then Graak stopped in a clump of bush ferns which furnished us pure, fresh water. He next plucked some sporepods, cracking them with his teeth. I split some open with my knife. They had a pleasant, nutlike flavor.
We resumed our journey until the advent of sudden darkness, when we climbed into the leaf-crown of a tall tree fern to pass the night there.
Graak fell asleep at once, but I could not. No sooner had darkness descended on the forest than the night-roaming carnivora were astir, making the night hideous with their cries—howling awoos, the horrid, mirthless laughter of hyenalike hahoes, the terrific roars of marmelots, the death-cries of the victims.
I think the gentle rocking of the trees, together with the rustling of the countless millions of fern leaves, lulled me to slumber. At any rate, I was awakened by the great hairy paw of Graak pulling at my arm, which I had thrown across my face—a habit of mine while sleeping. “The light has come,” he said, “and Graak is hungry. Let us find food and be gone.”
As I followed him down the rough, scaly trunk, I was struck by the contrast of the daylight sounds. I could hear only the buzzing of insects, the silvery toned warbling of the awakened songbirds, the occasional snort or grunt of some herbivore feeding, and the peculiar squawking cries of the queer bird- reptiles called aurks.
Graak and I had only traveled a short distance on the trail when he suddenly stiffened and, looking upward, said, “Good food! A ptang!”
Following the direction of his gaze, I saw a large, hairless slothlike creature hanging upside down on a thick fern frond which bent downward beneath its weight. The ptang was unconcernedly munching leaves without so much as a glance in our direction.
The cave-ape bounded to the base of the tree and quickly ascended, to climb out on the limb where the stupid creature was feeding, paying no attention to the approaching danger.
Graak swung by a prehensile foot and hand, and struck with his saw-edged club, laying the side of the creature’s head wide open at the first blow. It ceased its feeding, but did not attempt either to fight or run away, though its powerful legs were armed with long, hooked claws. Again Graak swung his club. The animal’s head hung limply downward and a shiver ran through its frame.
Replacing his club in his belt string, the cave-ape drew his flint knife and pried the hooked claws one by one from their grip on the limb. The ptang crashed downward through the branches to the ground.
When we had eaten our fill, the ape and I each cut off as large a portion of the animal as could conveniently be carried, and started once more on the trail.
We had not gone far when Graak pointed out a place where Taliboz and the princess bad stopped to eat, the night before. A little farther on the trail, we came to the base of a large tree fern in whose leaf crown they had passed the night. Evidently they were not more than an hour ahead of us.
As we hurried forward and the scent grew stronger and stronger, the cave- ape showed all the excitement of a hound on a fresh game trail—which it was, to his mind.
Presently he stopped, tensely alert, sniffing and listening.
“What is it?” I asked in a whisper.
“A marmelot follows them,” replied Graak, pointing to the footprints in the leaf mold.
Looking down, I saw, sometimes between their tracks, sometimes obliterating part of them, the spoor of a gigantic feline, so heavy that it sank to a depth of nearly a foot with each step.
Then carne the scream of a woman in deadly terror, only a short distance ahead, followed by the crashing of under brush and a terrific rumbling growl which I recognized only too well.
Graak instantly took to the trees, but I unlimbered my club and knife and dashed forward.
Hurrying as fast as I could in the soft leaf mold, dodging through fern- brakes and tripping over creepers, I presently floundered out into a little glade where a most fearsome sight met my eyes.
Rolling about on the ground, snapping, tearing and clawing at everything that came within its reach, was a magnificent marmelot, apparently in its death throes.
I had not taken three steps before the creature quivered, subsided, and lay still.
Looking about for the princess and her abductor, I was startled by a warning cry from almost directly above me, “Zinlo! Behind you!” It was the voice of Loralie.
Whirling, I saw Taliboz standing behind the broad trunk of a tree fern. In his left hand he held an object which I recognized as a clip for tork projectiles. Balanced in his right hand with its base against his palm and its length parallel with his fingers was one of the needle-like glass bullets, ready to throw. Even as I looked, he hurled it straight for my face.
I ducked my head just in time, heard the bullet strike a fern trunk behind me, and sprang forward. But he quickly pulled another from the clip and I saw that I could not reach him in time to use my weapons; nor could I, close as I was, again hope to avoid the throw by dodging.
With a grin of triumph on his features, he swung back his arm, poised it for a moment to get his aim, then brought it swiftly forward, his fingers pointing directly at my breast.
“Die, stripling!” he grated between clenched teeth.
But a strange thing happened. Instead of feeling the sting of the needle in my breast, I saw him go limp and slump down in his tracks.
I learned the cause as I bent over to, examine him. The needle bullet which he had intended for my breast had pierced one of his fingers instead. Rolling him over, I took his tork ammunition belt and buckled it about my own waist. I picked up the clip which he had dropped when he fell, and, closing the ejector, replaced it in the belt.
Then I looked up in the direction from which the warning voice of Loralie had come down to me. For a moment only I saw her beautiful face peering down at me between the parted fronds of a leaf-crown. Then a huge hairy arm reached downward, encircled her slender waist, and drew her backward. She cried out in deadly fear as the parted fronds snapped back in place, hiding her from view.
I