had never been in love before, but I did not need any aid in
diagnosing my case--I certainly had it and had it bad. God, how I
loved that beautiful, disdainful, tantalizing, prehistoric girl!

After we had eaten again I asked Dian if she intended returning to her
tribe now that Jubal was dead, but she shook her head sadly, and said
that she did not dare, for there was still Jubal's brother to be
considered--his oldest brother.

"What has he to do with it?" I asked. "Does he too want you, or has
the option on you become a family heirloom, to be passed on down from
generation to generation?"

She was not quite sure as to what I meant.

"It is probable," she said, "that they all will want revenge for the
death of Jubal--there are seven of them--seven terrible men. Someone
may have to kill them all, if I am to return to my people."

It began to look as though I had assumed a contract much too large for
me--about seven sizes, in fact.

"Had Jubal any cousins?" I asked. It was just as well to know the
worst at once.

"Yes," replied Dian, "but they don't count--they all have mates.
Jubal's brothers have no mates because Jubal could get none for
himself. He was so ugly that women ran away from him--some have even
thrown themselves from the cliffs of Amoz into the Darel Az rather than
mate with the Ugly One."

"But what had that to do with his brothers?" I asked.

"I forget that you are not of Pellucidar," said Dian, with a look of
pity mixed with contempt, and the contempt seemed to be laid on a
little thicker than the circumstance warranted--as though to make quite
certain that I shouldn't overlook it. "You see," she continued, "a
younger brother may not take a mate until all his older brothers have
done so, unless the older brother waives his prerogative, which Jubal
would not do, knowing that as long as he kept them single they would be
all the keener in aiding him to secure a mate."

Noticing that Dian was becoming more communicative I began to entertain
hopes that she might be warming up toward me a bit, although upon what
slender thread I hung my hopes I soon discovered.

"As you dare not return to Amoz," I ventured, "what is to become of you
since you cannot be happy here with me, hating me as you do?"

"I shall have to put up with you," she replied coldly, "until you see
fit to go elsewhere and leave me in peace, then I shall get along very
well alone."

I looked at her in utter amazement. It see