rced him to alter the direction
of his hurrying footsteps. The rapid heels hit a bowlder and Pud-Pud
fell backward into one of the cooking places, his spear flying
aimlessly into the air as the sitting portions of his anatomy came
into contact with the red hot stones.
One howl and one swift contortion of outraged flesh lifted him from
the spot and he escaped through the crowd, followed by the mocking
laughter of the Hillmen. Terry picked up the spear and crossed the
circle of savages to hand it to the largest and loudest savage in the
group to which the braggart had belonged. He looked him full in the
eye with a significance fully understood by the onlookers, then
turned his back upon him and returned to the Major.
The Major was convulsed: "I saw what you--had in mind--when you
circled him toward it," he laughed. "It must have been hot with
nothing but a red G-string between his rump and those coals!"
But the incident was significant of the attitude of many of the
Hillmen. Inside the hut they examined their pistols carefully, Terry
insisting that the Major take two of his extra magazines.
The Major, in grim mood, left for a long walk. In crossing the
clearing he purposely cut straight toward a group of warriors who at
the last moment stepped sullenly aside to let him pass. Surlily
pleased with his little victory, he crossed the broad plateau and
struck down the slope, unconscious of his direction in the worried
fumbling of his problems and his hurt. He started down the first great
incline, distrait, sorely troubled. He crossed a green expanse where
grass had sprung up over the site of an abandoned clearing, and as he
reached the trees which marked its edge he was startled by the sudden
appearance of two Hillmen who stepped out to confront him, pointing
their spears toward the village in unmistakable gesture.
As he angrily struck another course he realized for the first time how
complete his absorption in Ahma had become. He had forgotten that he
and Terry were prisoners, had lost sight of the mission that had
brought him into the Hills.
Chastened, he slowly retraced his way to the edge of the woods and sat
down upon a windfall to think it all out. He blamed only himself. Her
interest in him, he thought dully, had been but a friendship natural
toward the friend of the one for whom she cared. Little things came
back to him: her expression when she watched Terry approach, the
sympathy that existed between them
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