Part 8

“They burned him to death in the woods north of Luno. No man could live in that blaze, and he was completely surrounded. But they never found his body. Not that I doubt his death,” he added hastily, “still there be many who say that Cabot is supernatural. And there is ample grounds for that belief. Did he not vanquish a whistling bee alone and single-handed at Saltona? Did he not escape alive from the Valley of the Howling Rocks, after his ant executioners had actually seen him perish because of the terrible din, and after he had been pronounced officially dead? Did he not slay a woofus in the woods south of Kuana? In the present war, was he not killed at the barricade north of the capital, only to show up alive forty-three days later at Lake Luno? All of these events are evidence pointing to the conclusion that Cabot is not mortal. And, unless he be supernatural, how did he ever get to this planet in the first place, from Minos, twenty-five million stads away through space? Answer me that. But I mustn’t talk so much.”

“Go right on,” said Myles, “though, of course, I cannot agree with you that this Cabot person is any different from the rest of us.”

This started the guide off on a new track, an anatomical discussion of earth-born peculiarities, while Cabot permitted his attention to center on wondering whither he was being led and why. Great were the ramifications of the lost religion!

The guide discussed how this remarkable Cabot person, being a Minorian, had strange mushroomy growths at the sides of his head, the use of which, if any, was vague and uncertain, but apparently something like that of antennae. Also, how he had no real antennae and no vestigial wings, as he ought to have if he were a veritable Cupian.

But mostly, the guide dwelt on the fact that this Cabot had five fingers on each hand, instead of the proper six. At these remarks, Cabot himself carefully hid both of his telltale hands in the folds of his toga. His artificial wings, his electrical antennae, his sandals, and the locks of hair which concealed his ears, all served as a perfect disguise, provided that he could keep his hands from being seen. But the guide was too intent on his own conversation to notice anything, even if Myles had not taken this precaution. So he rambled on, as they wended their way through the mountains.

Around noon they stopped to mess with a small encampment of Cupians. As they waited for the meal to be served, they sat down on the crest of a slope overlooking a fertile valley, at the other side of which rose a range of hills.

The guide indicated these hills with a wave of his hand and said, “Thither lies our enemy on whom you have been sent to report.”

So that was what this trip was supposed to be for.

“Tell me,” said Myles, “their condition.”

The guide turned inquiringly to one of the other Cupian soldiers and explained: “This is Arta, a messenger on reconnaissance. He has the sign, so you may tell him all.”

Whereat the soldier stated: “Know then that those hills beyond that valley hold a force of Cupians which greatly outnumber us. The enemy are too scattered and too little is known of their exact disposition to enable us to bomb them out by airplane. But on the other hand, our complete control of the air prevents them from attacking us. We are rapidly completing a topographical survey by airplane. New planes are arriving from Mooni as fast as the factories there can turn them out. And ant reenforcements are arriving as fast as kerkools can bring them up. The stage is nearly set for the victorious advance of King Yuri, and for the end of the pretendership of his brother Toron. But, of course, being from headquarters, you know all this; what you now want is details. Is not that so?”

Just then the food arrived, bowls of alta and green milk. The guest was served first.

Instinctively Cabot extended his hand to accept the proffered bowl, and instinctively the soldier with whom he had been talking followed his movement with his eyes. All too late Cabot realized what he had done; for there, exposed before them, was a right hand with no counterpart on all Poros, a hand with only five fingers, not six, the hand of Cabot, the earth-man.

Simultaneously the two sprang to their feet, overturning the bowls of food, as the Cupian soldier shrieked: “Not Arta, but Cabot! Cabot the Minorian has come to life again!”

Out shot the right fist of the earth-man and tumbled the soldier in the dust. Then, before the rest of the astounded company had time to grab their rifles, Cabot had leaped from their midst and was rushing down the grassy slope to the valley below. A volley of shots followed him, and then the chase began.

But his earthly agility stood him in good stead, in spite of his weakness, for he covered the ground much more rapidly than his pursuers, and finally cleared at one bound the brook at the bottom, whereas they were forced to halt and ford it. But this halt brought forth several more volleys of bullets, one of which nicked the lobe of his ear, where the tiny ear-phone failed to cover it.

Cabot smiled grimly as he raced up the opposite slope. He could never repay that outrage, for Cupians have no ears.

* * * * *

At last he dropped panting in a little ravine which shielded him from his pursuers, whom he was confident would not dare to penetrate thus far into enemy territory.

But a peremptory cry of “Halt!” brought him suddenly to his feet again. He found himself looking into the muzzle of a Cupian rifle.

“I _am_ halted,” he replied somewhat testily.

“Then stay halted,” countered the Cupian, “in the name of the king.”

“Which king, O! sentinel?” asked the earth-man.

To which there came back the answer: “Toron, rightful ruler of all Poros.”

“Thank God,” exclaimed Cabot, dropping once more to the ground, “for I am Myles Cabot.”

At last he had reached his journey’s end!

The sentinel hastily summoned assistance, and their exhausted leader was carried on a litter to army headquarters, where Buh Tedn, Poblath and the others crowded around him and patted his cheek with every expression of joy at his deliverance, Poblath exclaiming jovially: “I told you they could never kill a Minorian!”

Even Hah Babbuh was there, too. How he had gotten there, when he was supposed to be holding the Kuana jail as a nucleus for the loyal elements at the capital, was a mystery to Cabot, but the earthman had not time to inquire, for other matters of more immediate importance now engrossed his attention.

Hah was in charge of the loyal forces; and Myles, because of his weakened condition, permitted his friend to retain the active command, which otherwise would have reverted to him as field-marshal of Cupia.

While the greetings were in progress, who should enter but Prince Toron! It was instantly evident that he had not been informed of Cabot’s arrival and was taken by complete surprise. So much so, in fact, that the young fellow appeared embarrassed and confused. The earth-man sensed this, and immediately there was reawakened in his breast the suspicion which had been born when he had read Toron’s note pinned by the dead body of the baby king, but which had been stilled for a time by the plausible story told by the priests of the lost religion in the Caves of Kar.

Accordingly the greetings between these two were a bit formal and stilted.

After the cheek-patting between them was over, Myles controlled his voice as much as possible, and asked: “Your majesty, does your majesty happen to know anything about the death of my son, the baby king?”

Toron started, and his face darkened.

“Were you at Luno Castle?” he asked.

“Yes,” replied Cabot grimly.

“Then did you not find the body, and the note pinned with a dagger?”

“Yes,” said his inquisitor. “That was what aroused my curiosity.”

“But the note told the facts,” exclaimed the startled young prince.

“Yes?” said Myles. “And, as I remember it, the words were merely: ‘This is what did the deed. I came too late.—Toron, King of Cupia.’ That explains nothing. It does not even state _who_ killed little Kew.”

Cabot snapped his words short with an air of finality. A look of horror gradually spread over Toron’s face, as he stared at the other.

“My Builder!” he exclaimed, “you don’t mean to say you think that _I_ did it.”

“This is treason!” Hah Babbuh declared in a determined tone.

“Now see here,” interjected Poblath soothingly, “let’s get this straight. I don’t believe that our good friend from Minos is quite himself after all his hardships, but I can assure him that I saw the blow struck, and that Prince Toron had not then even arrived at Luno.”

Toron and Cabot both collapsed limply, and looked at each other with pity in their eyes.

“I, too, have suffered and am not myself,” said the young prince in extenuation.

“Toron, cousin of my wife, forgive me,” replied Myles.

Whereat Poblath, the philosopher, to relieve the strained situation, hastily suggested: “Come, Myles Cabot, tell us all that has happened to you these many days since we last saw you in my mangool at Kuana.”

Cabot roused himself.

“But no,” said he, “for I want first to hear the tale of my good friend Prince—er, King—Toron.”

“Yes, yes, tell him,” said Poblath hurriedly.

The boyish contender for the throne looked inquiringly around the circle, and, receiving several nods of approval, began:

“It happened this way, Myles. The instant that my uncle was shot dead by my murderous brother at the Peace Day exercises, my first thought was of my beloved cousin, the Princess Lilla. I did not even stop to consider that the assassination had given me a claim to the throne. If I had paused, it might have occurred to me that the proper place to strike a blow for her safety was right there in the stadium, in an attack on the pretender Yuri. But, as it was, I had but one idea: Northward!”

“I have had that idea myself,” Cabot interjected with a smile.

The tension was broken, Poblath remarking dryly. “Great minds think alike.”

“So,” the boy continued, “I rushed for the nearest exit, and gained my own plane before the fighting in the stadium got really under way. But, as I helicoptered up into the air, I noted that my fuel tanks were nearly out of alcohol. This meant stopping at the nearest filling-station, and a delay of many precious paraparths. Nevertheless there was no alternative.

“The keeper of the station did not recognize me, but, noticing our family crest on the machine, he asked: ‘A supporter of Yuri?’

“This gave me an idea.

“‘You, too?’ I replied.

“He assented.

“‘Then, in the name of the Great Architect, lend me a rifle and a yellow pennant, so that I may join his forces in safety.’

“He readily complied. In fact, he seemed to know all about the _coup_. And thus it happened that I rose into the air, flying the accursed colors of the new dynasty. But, even as my plane left the ground, there passed overhead a Formian fleet of bombers headed northward, undoubtedly bound for Lake Luno on some devilish errand. It was up to me to interfere.”

“You mean to say,” interjected Myles, “that you dared to tackle, single-handed, a whole squadron of Mooni-trained ant men?”

Toron shrugged his youthful shoulders.

“Why not?” said he. “I am a graduate of the ant-university. It would be a good lark. ‘A Cupian can only die once, so he might just as well die happily,’ as Poblath here would say. Besides,” and his face hardened, “it was necessary for my cousin Lilla’s sake. So up I went and after them.

“My newly acquired yellow banner gave me free passage into the very midst of the fleet. And then I let loose with the rifle. Oh, it was fun, to see the black beasts drop. My only regret was that I didn’t have explosive bullets, like those which we used in the War of Liberation.

“Of course,” ruefully, “eventually they shot me down, but it was a great fight while it lasted.”

“Were you hurt?” asked the earth-man.

“Oh, no,” the boy replied, “they merely got my fuel tank, and so I was able to make a fair landing one hundred stads or so north of Kuana. But down they all came on top of me.”

“And captured you?” inquired Myles.

XII

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?”

XIII

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.