Blood Brothers of Gor

Chapter 7 BLOKETU AND IWOSO COME VISITING

"He beat me," wailed Winyela, running up to me. "He beat me!"

"You are in the presence of a free man," I said, indicating Cuwignaka.

Swiftly she fell to her knees, and put her red hair to the dust. Her hair, sometimes braided, was now, as usual, unbraided. She, like most other girls, whether of the red savages or not, wore it long and loose. Among the red savages, of course, free women commonly braid their hair. The lack of braiding, thus, usually, draws an additional distraction between slaves and free women of the red savages. The most common distraction, of course, is skin color, the slaves almost always being white and the free persons almost invariably being red. "Forgive me, Master," she said to Cuwignaka.

"All right," he said.

She straightened her body, but remained on her knees, before us. "He beat me!" she said. She was naked, except for Canka's collar. Her small wrists were bound before her body, with several tight loops of a rawhide thong.

"Stand," I said, "and turn, slowly.

She did.

"Kneel," I said.

She knelt.

"Yes," I said. "There is little doubt about it. You have been beaten."

"It is not funny," she said.

"Apparently with a kaiila quirt," I said.

"Yes," she said. Some of the braiding marks were still visible in her flesh.

"I thought he liked me," she said.

"You are still alive," I pointed out.

"He took away my clothes, and tied me to a whipping stake, on my knees!" she said.

"That is not uncommon in camps of the red savages, for white female slaves," I said. "Besides you would not want you clothes bloodied."

She looked at me, angrily.

"Your hair was thrown forward," I said.

"Yes," she said.

"That is so it will not cushion the blows which might fall on your back," I said.

"Doubtless," she said.

"Too," I said, "you would not want to get blood on your hair."

"Of course not," she said.

"Do you think that you are the first girl who has ever been whipped?" I asked.

"No," she said.

"Apparently you did not spend all of your time on your knees, your hair thrown forward, your head and belly down."

"No," she said. "I was struck from my knees by almost the first stroke. I twisted and cried out. I must have supplied much amusement to the women of the red savages who were watching."

"They hate white slave girls," I said. "They enjoy seeing them beaten."

"Then I could cry out no more," she said. "I must simply lie there-"

"And take your punishment-?"

"Yes, and take my punishment-"

"As a slave-?"

"Yes," she said, "-as a slave."

I smiled. This was apparently the first full beating to which the former Miss Millicent Aubrey-Welles, the former deutante from Pennsylvania, had ever been subjected. It had not only physically punished her, and well, but, too, obviously, she had felt it as keenly humiliating. It had not only hurt her, but had horrified and scandalized her.

"You seem outraged," I said.

"I am," she said.

"Why?" I asked.

"I was beaten," she said.

"Do you find yourself eager for a repetition of the experience?" I asked.

"No," she said. "No!"

"The experience, then, was instructive?" I said.

"Yes," she said.

"Why were you beaten?" I asked.

"I cut meat poorly, out on the prairie," she said.

"Wasnapohdi warned you," I said. "You would not let her help. You would not listen."

Winyela squirmed angrily, on her knees in the dust, her small wrists bound tightly before her.

"You were displeasing," I said. "Be pleased that your punishment was not more severe than it was."

Winyela looked up at me, tears in her eyes.

"You might have been fed to sleen," I said.

She shuddered.

"Do you not realize, pretty Winyela," I said, "that you are only a slave?"

"He did not even give me back my clothes," she said.

"These are holiday times," I said. "Surely you have seen more than one white female slave naked in the camp."

"He even left me bount," she said, lifting her secured wrists.

"That is perhaps a bit of extra discipline," I said.

"I am ashamed," she said. "I want to hide. Please let me go into your lodge."

I considered this.

"Beaten slave," said a white female, in a scandalously short shirtdress, and collar, a brunet slave of the Wismahi, sneeringly, to Winyela.

"You may enter the lodge," I said to Winyela.

"Thank you," she whispered, and crept within. Cuwignaka remained outside. He had pegged down three hides and, one after the other, alternating his efforts, was scraping them. All about the camp hides such as these, pegged down, and meat racks, heavy with sheets of kailiauk meat, were in evidence. These are common sights in summer camps. The meat is left two or three days in the sun, this being sufficient for its preservation. It is taken in at night to protect it from the night air.

Inside the lodge Winyela lay on her stomach, on the robes, and, her head lying on her bound hands, wept.

"Do you wish to be beaten again?" I asked.

"No," she said.

"Then, doubtless, you are resolving to be a better slave," I said.

She looked at me, tears streaming down her cheeks, her eyes red.

"Do not be so upset," I said. "You are only a slave."

"Canka struck me," she said. "He beat me."

"And well," I said.

"Yes!" she said.

"Did you expect to be displeasing with impurnity?" I asked.

She regarded me, red-eyed.

"I see you did," I said. "Well, now you have learned better."

"I was beaten!" she said.

"Your sense of outrage is inappropriate," I said. "I suggest you rid yourself of it, immediately, lest it become the occassion of further discipline."

"Discipline?" she asked.

"Slave discipline," I said.

She swollowed hard.

"Replace it with a suitable attitude of trepidation," I said. "You are only a slave."

I observed her naked flanks, on the robes.

She shuddered.

"You should not feel outrage," I told her. "You are only a slave. That is an emotion which would be more appropriate in a free woman, one, say, stripped, and unjustifiably beaten, as though she might be a mere slave. Beatings, on the other hand, are the due of slaves, particularly ones which are in the least respect displeasing, as they might be of any other owned animal."

"I might as well belong to anyone," she said, bitterly.

"That is true," I said. "But you belong to Canka."

"Yes," she said, bitterly. "I belong to Canka." She put her head down, weeping. "I'm so ashamed," she said. "I was so humiliated."

"I understand," I said. The females of the red savages, with their laughter and catcalls, in particular, would not have made the lovely slave's ordeal any easier. Too, that a given girl has been beaten, and has thus, presumably, failed to be fully pleasing in some way, makes her an object of contempt and ridicule among other girls. Little love is lost, commonly, between competitive slave girls. Girls commonly like seeing other girls being beaten, whom they think are too proud, or whome they don't like. It is almost a holiday in the slave quarters when a high slave is to be whipped, particularly if she is then to be reduced to the status of a common girl.

"Am I permitted to feel shame, humiliation?" she asked, angrily.

"Of course," I said. "Those are emotions which are permitted to slaves."

"How generous are the masters," she said.

"Too, shame and humiliation, like chains and whips, can be useful disciplinary devices."

"Of course," she said.

"A shamed, humiliated slave, tied and beaten, is usualy swift thereafter to learn her lessons," I said.

"I do not doubt it," she said.

"Tell me truthfully now," I said. "During the beating itself, before you were alone, writhing with the pain, what did you find most shameful, most humiliating?"

"Must I answer?" she asked.

"Yes," I said.

"That I knew, in my heart," she said, "that I deserved the beating, that I rechly deserved it."

"Oh?" I asked.

"I di dnot listen to Wasnapohdi," she said. "I was proud and vain. I was clumsy. I was stupid. I cut meat poorly. I displeased my master."

"I see," I said.

"Then I found myself stripped and tied on my knees at the whipping stake. I was to be publicly punished. Then the quirt fell upon me."

"Many times, in private beatings," I said, "such things as shame or humiliation will enter very little into the situation."

She regarded me.

"Often," I said, "the girl merely fears the leather, or its wary of it, and, hoping to give it a wide berth, behaves herself accordingly. For most practical purposes she knows that if she behaves in certain ways she will not feel it, and if she behaves in other ways, she will feel it. It is almost like a law of nature. It is always there, of course, in the background, and she knows that she is subject to it. Similarly, of course, even in her deepest love, she knows that, ultimately, her very life is dependent on the whim of her master. She can be thrown to sleen, at a word from him, if he wishes."

"We are so owned," she whispered.

"Sometimes," I said, "girls, some girls, who are not sure of their slavery, and its limits, will test their masters."

"Oh?" she said.

"Like you," I said.

"I?" she asked, startled.

"And the masters are not found wanting," I said. "The beauty is quickly rassured as to the existence of boundaries."

"I?" she asked.

"Yes," I said.

"Do you think I wanted to be limited and controlled?" she asked.

"Yes," I said.

"That is absurd," she said. She rolled over on her back, on the dark robes, and threw her bound wrists over her head.

"You were not sure that you were really Canka's slave," I said. "You wished reassurance."

The beauty moved angrily. She did not answer.

"Have no fear, Winyela," I said. "The colalr, as you have no doubt by now discovered, is truly knotted on your neck."

I looked at her small feet, at thos trim ankles, at the sweet calves of her, her thighs, her belly, her breasts, the neck and shoulders, her throat, in Canka's collar, her profile, the lovely red hair, behind her on the robes.

"You're looking at me, aren't you?" she asked.

"Yes," I said.

"I hate men," she said. She quickly half sat, half knelt, on the robes, her bound hands on the robes.

"No, you don't," I said. "You hate yourself, or something ugly in yourself, probably left over from Earth, that sick world from which you came."

She threw herslef on her side, facing me, her legs pulled up, her bound hands before her. "I am miserable," she said.

"You are confused," I said. "You only wanted to be put in your place."

"MY place?" she said.

"Yes," I said, "your place, your place in the order of nature, that of a female at the feet of her master."

She did not respond.

"But it is a dangerous game," I said. "I would beware of playing it with Goreans. Suppose Canka had given you to boys, as a target for their arrows, or had rubbed you with blood, your own, and had set sleen on you."

"I am going to run away," she said, sullenly. She rose, angrily, to her feet. I noted how her small feet pressed in the robes.

"I would not advise it," I said.

"Oh?" she asked.

"There is nowhere to run," I said.

She walked angrily to the other side of the lodge, and then turned to face me, her bound wrists held then at her waist. She was beautiful. "It is true," she said, angrily. "There is nowhere to run," she looked down, at her left thigh. "I am even branded," she said, "like an animal."

"Like the animal you are," I said.

"Yes," she said, bitterly, "-like the animal I am."

"Kneel," I said, indicating a place before me, before where I sat, cross-legged, on the robes.

"Back on your heels," I said, "with your knees widely spread."

She complied.

"Put your shoulders back," I said. "Thrust your breasts out. Hold your wrists at your waist."

She complied.

I examined her. She was not only beautiful. She was very beautiful.

"This is my reality, isn't it," she said, "that of a slave, at the bidding of men."

"Yes," I said. "It is."

"May I lower my wrists?" she asked. "May I close my knees?"

"Yes," I said. Swiftly, she did so.

"I did not think that Canka would beat me," she said.

"Why not?" I asked.

"I thought he liked me," she said. Her wrists looked well, bound, atop her closed thighs.

"I suspect he does," I said.

"He beat me," she said, poutingly.

"You are a slave," I explained.

"I thought he liked me," she said.

"I would suppose that he does," I said. "Hitherto, at any rate, he has treated you with great lenience. That, in my opinion, was a mistake on his part. That lenience, if I am not mistaken, you will discover to have vanished. You will now discover, if I am not mistaken, that your life in his lodge will now be rather different."

"Different?" she asked.

"The discipine to which you will now find yourself subjected, I suspect," I said, "will leave you little doubt as to your bondage. It will be unswerving, precise and exact. If you deaprt from the narrow line of slave perfection by so much as a hort you may expect a cuffing, or the lash."

She looked at me, with horror.

"In short," I said, "you will be subjected to exactly the sort of discipline which women such as you want, and need."

She put her head down, angrily. She moved her wrists in the unyielding bonds.

"How do you feel about Canka?" I asked.

She lifted her head, angrily. "I hate him!" she said. "He beat me!"

"Yes, he did," I said, "and well."

"I hate him!" she said.

"You wanted him to beat you," I said.

"But I did not think he would!" she said.

"You were mistaken," I said.

"Yes," she said, "I was mistaken."

"An interesting, if painful experiment, on your part, Winyela," I observed.

"I did not really think of it as an experiment," she said, "at least no consciously, or fully consciously."

"But it seems, rather clearly, to have been one," I said.

"Perhaps," she said.

"I do not think it will be necessary to repeat it," I said.

"No," she said, shuddering, "no."

"What have you learned from your little experiment?" I asked.

"That I am truly a slave," she said.

"And what else?" I asked.

"That my master is stong," she said.

"I do not think you will be permitted, from now on, to get away with any nonsense," I said.

"No," she said. "I do not think so."

"It must be a very frightening thing, to belong to a strong master," I said.

"Yes," she said.

"But then a true slave would not wish it any other way," I said.

"No," she said. "That is true."

"You are satisfied, now," I asked, "that the uncompromising and categorical domination for which you yearn will be applied to you?"

"Yes," she said.

"That you are truly Canka's slave?"

"Yes," she said. "But I am afraid now that he may not like me any longer, that I may have irritated or offended him."

"As you hate him," I said, "what does it matter?"

"Hate him?" she asked. "I love him. I Love him, more than anything!"

"But he beat you," I said.

"I was an errant slave," she said. "Of course I would be punished!"

"I see," I said.

"but I am afraid he does not like me any longer," she wept.

"Why?" I asked.

"He was cold to me," she said.

"He was probably angry," I said.

"Do you think he will give me away?" she asked.

"I do not know," I said.

She put down her head, sobbing. She was only an article of property. She could change hands as easily as a pair of moccasins or a kaiila. "I displeased him," she said. "How absurd and stupid I was."

"Does Canka know that you are here?" I asked.

"Yes," she said.

"Were you ordeed to report here?" I asked.

"I had to talk to someone," she said. "I would have come anyway."

"Were you ordered to report here?" I asked.

"Yes," she said. I had thought that that might be the case.

"Why?" I asked.

"He has set me an addition punishment," she said, straightening her body, putting back her shoulders, thrusting out her breasts, sucking in her gut, kneeling back on her heels, spreading her knees widely, and lifting her crossed, thonged wrists to her waist, "-Master."

I let her retain this posture, that she might fully understand it.

"I note that your wrists are bound," I said.

"Yes," she said.

"I had thought that that might be only a bit of extra discipline," I said. "I had not known, earlier, from your behavior, that you had been sent to report to this lodge."

She put her head down.

"You wished to talk," I said.

"Yes," she whispered.

"That is permissible," I said.

"Thank you," she said, "-Master."

"To wish to talk is permissible," I said. "Actually to talk, of course, whether you are given permission to speak, or not, is up to the master."

"Yes, Master," she said.

I regarded her. She was quite lovely.

"Master," she said.

"Yes," I said.

"I was not ordered merely to report to this lodge," she said. "I was ordered to report to you."

"Not to Cuwignaka?" I asked.

"No," she said.

"To me, personally," I said.

"Yes, Master," she said.

"Do you know what it means," I asked, "when a woman is sent to report to a man, and she is naked, and in bonds?"

"I am not faimiliar with Gorean ways," she said.

"Is the symbolism not obvious?" I asked.

"That she is placed at his disposal," she said, "in bondage."

"Of course," I said.

"Then regard me before you," she said, "placed at your disposal, in bondage."

"Interesting," I said.

"Interesting?" she said.

"Yes," I said.

"Why?" she asked.

"You are a beautiful slave," I said, "and the slave of a high warrior, one how has, even, served as Blotanhunka, a war-party leader, of the All Comrades."

She tossed her head.

"You are supposedly worth even five hides of the yellow kailiauk," I said. "That is what Grunt was supposed to receive for you, for your delivery to Mahpiyasapa."

She looked away.

"So, why, then," I asked, "have you been sent here, to be put at the disposal of one who is, like yourself, only a slave?"

"I am being punished," she said. "I have my orders." she looked at me. "Punish me," she said.

"What were your orders?" I asked.

She looked down.

"Speak them," I said.

"I am to report to you," she said. "I am to present myself before you, and as a female slave. I am to beg you to act as my master, for the afternoon. I am to serve you, and be pleasing, fully, in any and every way that you might desire, and I am to yield to you, withholding nothing, with the perfection of a female slave to her master."

"And I, only a slave," I marveled.

"Yes!" she said, tears in her eyes.

"It is a superb punishment," I admitted.

"Yes," she said, miserably, "it is superb!"

"You will be, in effect," I said, "the slave of a slave."

"Yes," she said, angrily.

"This thought seems to disturb you," I observed.

"I am a slave girl," she said. "I am the rightful property of free men, not slaves."

"Proud slave," I said.

"Canka well knows how to reduce me," she said. Then she looked at me. "Begin my punishment." she said.

"Report," I said.

She looked at me, in fury.

"Keep your back straight," I said.

"I am Qinyela," she said, "the slave of Canka, of the Isbu Kaiila. On the orders of my master I herewith report myself to you. I present myself before you, a female slave. I beg you to be my acting master, for the afternoon."

"Very well," I said.

"I am now yours, for the afternoon," she said. "Do with me as you will."

"I doubt that Canka truly wants me to have you," I said. "Besides, I think you have been punished enought."

She looked at me, startled.

"Give me your wrists," I said.

She extended her wrists, and I unbound them, refastening the thongs, like a bracelet, on her left wrist.

"Lie down here," I said, "on the hides. Rest. After a time, I will take you back to the lodge of Canka."

"Do you not want me?" she asked.

"To see you is to want you," I said.

"You may have me," she said.

"You love Canka," I said, "and you are his."

I then covered her with a smaller hide.

"It is not cold," she said, smiling.

"I am only human," I said. "Do not weaken my rosoves."

"Forgive me, master," she smiled. Then, worn from her ordeals of the day, she was asleep.

I looked at her slender, luscious figure, under the hide. I clenched my fists. Then I left the lodge.

Outside the lodge, I saw Cuwignaka, on his knees, scraping at a pegged-down hide.

"Where is Winyela?" he asked.

"Inside, sleeping," I said.

"I think she has had a hard day," he said.

"I am sure of it," I laughed.

"How was she?" he asked.

"I do not know," I said. "I let her sleep."

"But she was sent here to report to you, was she not?" asked Cuwignaka, pausing in his work.

"Yes," I said.

"Surely you did not neglect to note that she was naked and bound."

"No," I said. "Such details did not escape my attention."

"Do you know what it means," asked Cuwignaka, "when a woman is ordered to report to a man, and she is naked and bound?"

"I have some idea," I admitted.

"And you let her sleep?"

"Yes," I said.

"Why do you think Canka sent her to you?" he asked.

"I am not truly sure," I said.

"She had just been beaten," said Cuwignaka.

"Yes," I said.

"Is it not obvious, the, that this was intended as an addition to her punishment, that she, a slave, would then have to serve one who is also only a slave, and as her master?"

"Perhpas," I said.

"A splendidly humbling experience for a female slave," said Cuwignaka, "and one that teached her her worthlessness and lowness superbly."

"Perhaps," I said.

"And you did not use her."

"No," I said.

"In this you have doubtless not fulfilled the will of Canka," said Cuwignaka.

"Do you truly think he wanted me to have her?" I asked.

"Certainly," said Cuwignaka.

"But she loves him," I said.

"What difference could that possibly make?" asked Cuwignaka.

"And does he not love her?" I asked.

"Yes," said Cuwignaka. "But he will want her sent back to his lodge as a better slave."

"I think she has been punished enough," I said.

"A bold decision for one to make who is only a slave," smiled Cuwignaka.

I grinned. "Perhaps," I said.

"Besides," said Cuwignaka, "Canka likes you."

"I, too, like him," I said.

"He knows that you are a strong man, and that you need a woman."

I shrugged.

"You wear a collar," said Cuwignaka. "It is frustrating for you in the camp. You cannot even touch a nude, white female slave without permission, taking her from her work in dessing skins or sewing."

"There is Wasnapohdi," I said.

"But she is often elsewhere," said Cuwignaka, "and Grunt, for purposes of busniess, often consigns her to others, sometimes for more than a day or two."

"That is true," I said.

"So why should you object," said Cuwignaka, "if Canka, in his friendship for you, in a suitable context, for an afternoon, makes you a present of Winyela?"

"I do not object," I laughed. "It is only that I think, today, at least, she has been punsihed enough."

"That seems to be Canka's decision, not yours," said Cuwignaka.

"Doubtless you are right," I said. "He is her master."

"And you let her sleep!" scoffed Cuwignaka.

"Yes," I said.

"How tender-hearted you are!" he laughed.

"Perhpas," I said. It had been a long time since anyone had accused me of that.

Cuwignaka bent again to his work, with the bone scraper. "What are you thinking about?" he asked.

"I wonder what Wasnapohdi is doing," I said.

Cuwignaka laughed. "She is probably doing what I am doing, scraping skins."

"Do you want any help?" I asked.

"No," said Cuwignaka. "This is woman's work."

I laughed. this response, a joke on Cuwignaka's part, is a commonplace among the red savages. The offer of a man to help with a owman's tasks is almost always refused. The man has his work, the woman hers. The gender of a task commonly has a plausible rational. It seems to be the men, for example, who are best suited to be the warriors and the women who are best suited to be the lovely, desirable prizes of such warriors. Similarly it seems men, with their strength, aggressiveness and size, would be better suited for the hunt, pursuing the swift, thrident-horned, belligerent kailiauk at full speed than the slighter, softer women, and that the women, with their patience, their sense of color, with thier small, nimble fingers, would be better suited to exacting, fine tasks such as beadwork and sewing. Similarly, it is natural to expect that the general, sex-linked orientations and predispositions, statistically obvious, both male and female, of human beings, presumably functions of genetic and hormonal differences, would tend to be reflected, broadly, in the sorts of tasks which each sex tends to perform most effciently and finds most congenial.

Some tasks, of course, from the biological point of view, may be sex-neutral, so to speak. Whether sex-neutral tasks exist or not is an interesting question. Such a task would seem to be on in which the sexual nature of a human being, with all its attendant physiological and psychological consequenses, was irrelevant.

It seems likely that sex-neutral tasks, at least of an interesting nature, do not exist. We shall suppsoe, however, for the purposes of argument, that there do exist such tasks. Let us suppose, for example, that the cutting of leather for moccasisns is such a task. Now among the red savages this task, supposedly sex-neutral, for the purposes of argument, is always, or almost always, performed by females. This calls attention to an interesting anthropological datum. The performances of even tasks which may be "sex-neutral," tasks that do not seem to have an obvious biological rationale with respect to gender, tends to be divided, in culture after culture, on a sezual basis. Similarly, interestingly, whether for historical reasons or not, these cultures tend to be in substantial agreement on the divisions. For example, in almost all cultures, though not all, loom weaving is a female task. This tends to suggest that it is important in these cultures that sexual differences, in one way or another, be clearly marked.

The blurring of sexual differences, with its attendant deleterious consequences on sexual relations and identity, the reduction of male vitality and the frustration of female fulfillment, is not, for better or worse, encouraged. The denial and frustration of nature, the betrayal and subversion of sexuality, it is possible, may not be in the long-term best interest of the human species. Sexism, thus, in a sense, may not be a vice, but the hope of a race. Unisex, not taken for granted as an aspect of a pathological culture, but understood, in depth, could be of interest, it seems, only to somewhat short-sighted or unusal organisms.

I saw a white, female slave walking by. She was in someone's collar. She was stripped.

I had not been given a quirt, a permission quirt, beaded, such as might give a male slave power over such women. I looked at her. She was luscioius. I could not so much as touch her.

"What are you going to do?" asked Cuwignaka.

"I think maybe I will go look for Wasnaphodi," I said.

"I thought you might," said Cuwignaka.

I looked about.

"Have you seen Grunt?" I asked. Wasnapohdi would presumably be somewhere in his whereabouts.

"I saw him this morning," said Cuwignaka. "He seemed troubled."

"Why?" I asked.

"I do not know," said Cuwignaka.

"Bloketu and Iwoso are in the vicinity," I said. I had seen them, when I had looked about. "It seems they are visiting,"

"Of course," said Cuwignaka, working the hide.

"How is it that Bloketu hates you so?" I asked.

"I do not know," said Cuwignaka. "Once we were friends."

"They are coming this way," I said.

Cuwignaka bent even more closely over the hide. Thee seemed now a subtle anger in his movements.

It is common, of course, for women to mock one such as Cuwignaka. Bloketu, on the other hand, seemed to take a malicious and peculiar delight in doing so.

"I had a dream last night about Bloketu," said Cuwignaka.

"Oh?" I said.

"That I collared her and owned her," he said.

"And when she was stripped did you put the quirt to her well?" I asked.

"Yes," he said, "and then I much pleased myself with her."

"A good dream," I said.

"Yes," said Cuwignaka.

"Oh, Iwoso," called out Bloketu, coming up, "here is that pretty girl we met on the prairie, you know, the one in the white-womans dress."

"I remember," said Iwoso.

"She had cut so much meat! The poles of the travois even bent!"

"Yes," said Iwoso. Iwoso looked behind her, as if she expected to see someone.

"But she was such a naughty girl," said Bloketu. "She disobeyed the Sleen Soldier and she lost all that meat."

Iwoso laughed.

"What is her name? It is Cuwignaka, isn't it?" laughed Bloketu.

"Yes," said Iwoso.

"Ah, Cuwignaka," said Bloketu, "you are fortunate that you are not the woman of a Kaiila warrior. If you were he might have taken that white dress off your pretty little body and lashed you well. Thus might learn your lesson, not to lose meat again that way."

"It is he again," whispered Iwoso to Bloketu, looing behind her.

"Oh?" said Bloketu. She turned about, angrily.

On his kaiila, in his breechclout, his hair braided, without feathers, sat Hci. He looked down on the two girls, afoot.

"Are you following us about?" asked Bloketu.

"It is rumored that there may be peace with the Yellow Knives," said Hci.

"I have heard that rumor," said Bloketu.

"They are our enemies," said Hci. He looked at Iwoso.

"If you wish to court Iwoso," said Bloketu, "you may come to the lodge tonight and sit outside, cross-legged, playing the love flute. I will then decide whether or not I will permit my maiden to leave the lodge."

"You have not yet taken away her leggings, nor put her in a short dress and collar," said Hci.

"It is not necessary to floow Iwoso about like a panting sleen," said Bloketu.

"It is not for such a purpose that I follow her," said Hci. "If I want her, I will come to your lodge. I will offer a kaiila for her and bring a rope."

"That you are a Sleen Soldier does not permit you to speak so!" said Bloketu.

"This morning," said Hci, "Watonka, and you two, left the camp of the Isanna."

"He was spying on us," said Iwoso.

"You met other riders," said Hci. "I found the traks. What did you do?"

"Nothing," said Bloketu.

"Who were the other riders?" asked Hci.

"You are an expert tracker," said Bloketu. "You tell me. Surely you examined the dust for the print of moccasins?" Different tribes have, usually, slightly different moccasins patterns, resulting in subtly differnt prints. To be sure, it usually takes a sharp print to make these discriminations. There is no difficulty, of course, in distinguishing between boots of the sort common with white riders and moccasins, the almost universal footwear of the red savages. They are worn even in the winter. In the winter they are often lined, for insulation and warmth, with hair or dried grass.

"None dismounted," said Hci.

"There were Isanna hunters," said Bloketu.

"No hunting parties of the Isanna left camp this morning," said Hci.

"Oh," said Bloketu.

"Watonka himself had so ordered it," said Hci.

"They were Wismahi," said Bloketu.

"They were Yellow Knives," said Hci. "Three of them."

"You cannot know that," said Bloketu, angrily.

"It would be for such a reason that you would take the Yellow-Kife slave with you," said Hci, looking at Iwoso, "to converse with them."

"Slave!" cried Iwoso, angrily.

"Yes, slave," said Hci.

Bloketu looked about. "Do not speak too loudly," she said. "You are right, Hci. They were Yellow Knives. And Iwoso has been very helpful. She can speak to them, other than in sign, which we cannot. They contacted Watonka. They wish to make peace with the Kaiila."

"That is wonderful," said Cuwignaka.

"Attend your work, Girl," said Hci to Cuwignaka, "or I will put you to sewing."

Cuwignaka, angrily, sat back on his heels. In sewing, commonly, among the red savages, a roll of rawhide string is held balled in the mouth, and played out, bit by bit. The warmth and saliva in the mouth keeps the string moist and pliable. The thrusting end is twisted and wet. It is then thrust through holes punched in the leather with a metal or bone awl. The moist thread, of course, as well as being easier to work with, tends to shrink in drying and make tighter stiches. With the ball of hide string in the mouth, of course, it is difficult to speak. When a woman, then, finds herself being advised by her man to attend to her sewing, she understands, well enough, that it is now time for her to be silent. She has been, in effect, ordered to put a gag in her own mouth.

"You may not know of this, Hci," said Bloketu, "but Mahpiyasapa and the other chieftains know of it. There will be a council on the matter."

"The Yellow Knives are our enemies," said Hci. "There will never be peace with them."

"Was it really the Yellow Knives who first contacted Watonka?" asked Hci.

"Yes," she said.

"I find that hard to believe," said Hci.

"Why?" asked Bloketu.

"I know Yellow Knives." said Hci, his hand straying to the long scar at the left side of his chin. "I have met them, lance to lance, club to club, knife to knife."

"There is more to life than collecting coups," said Bloketu.

"That is probably true," said Hci, regarding Iwoso. Quickly she put her head down. She was very pretty. She had been captured from Yellow Knives at the age of twelve. I thought I agreed with Hci. She was now old enough to be a man's true slave.

"Do not be afraid, Hci," laughed Bloketu. "There were only three of them, and this is the time of the great dances."

During the summer festivals, and the time of the great dances, warfare and raiding is commonly suspended on the prairie. This is a time of truce and peace. The celebrating tribe, during its own festival period, naturally refrains from belligerent activities. Similarly, interestingly, enemy tribes, during this period, perhaps in virtue of an implicit bargain, that their own festival times be respected, do not attack them, or raid them. For the red savages the festival times in the summer, whenever they are celebrated by the various tribes, are the one time in the year when they are territorially and politically secure. These are very happy times, on the whole, for the tribes. It is nice to know that one is, at such times, safe. More than one war party, it is recorded, penetrating deeply into enemy territory, and seeing the high brush walls of a dance lodge, and discovering that it was the enemy's festival time, has politely withdrawn. This sort of thing is not historically unprecedented. For example, in ancient Greece the times of certain games, such as the Olympic games, constituted a truce period during which it was customary to suspend the internecine wars of competitive cities. Teams and fans from the combatant poleis then could journey to and from the stadiums in safety. Two additional reasons militating against bellicosity and martial aggression during the summer festivals might be mentioned. First, the size of these gatherings, the enemy being massed, so to speak, tends to reduce the practicality of attacks. Bands of men are not well advised to launch themselves upon nations. Secondly, it is supposedly bad medicine to attack during the times of festivals.

"I do not trust Yellow Knives," said Hci.

"It is all right, Hci," said Bloketu. "Ask your father, Mahpiyasapa, if you like."

Hci shrugged, angrily.

"There is to be council on the matter," said Bloketu.

It did seem to me plausible, if the Yellow Knives wished to sue for peace, and if they had contacted Watonka, or if he had contacted them, that it would ahve been done at this time, at the time of the gathering, of the dances and feasts. This would seem to be the ideal time for such probings, such contacts, and any pertinent attendant negotiations.

Iwoso looked up. Hci was still regarding her. Such obvious scrutiny would not have been appropriate, of course, if she had not been a slave. Iwoso, again, put down her head.

"Oh," laughed Bloketu, light-heartedly, as if desiring to shift the locus of discourse, "I see you were not really spying on us, at all, Hci. You were only pretending to do so! You are a sly young fellow! You wanted an excuse to follow Iwoso!"

"No," said Hci. This was a form of teasing which Hci did not enjoy.

"I know you find Iwoso attractive," said bloketu, laughing. "I have seen you look at her."

"She is only a Yellow-Knife slave," said Hci.

"She has been with the Kaiila since the age of twelve," said Bloketu. "She is as much Kaiila as Yellow Knife."

"No," said Hci. "She is a Yellow Knife. It is in her blood."

"Perhaps, Iwoso," said Bloketu, "I will let Hci court you."

"No, please, no!" said Iwoso. I saw that she, genuinely, feared Hci, and deeply. I did not fully understand this at the time. I would later.

"Then I shall decide," said Bloketu to Iwoso, "whether or not you shall accept him."

"No, please," said Iwoso.

"Do you dispute me, my maiden?" asked Bloketu.

"No," said Iwoso, miserably.

"She should say that on her knees, with her head down," said Hci.

"You men would like us all to be your helpless slaves," said Bloketu, angrily.

I saw Cuwignaka looking at Bloketu. I thought he was, perhaps, in his mind, undressing her. He was speculating, perhaps, on what she might look like, diversted of her high station, diversted of the jewelry and finery of the chiefatin's daughter, put to a man's feet, collared, waiting to be commanded.

"Do you want Iwoso?" asked Bloketu, angrily, of Hci.

Hci shrugged. "She s a Yellow Knife," he said. "She might do as a slave. I do not know."

"Do you want her?" asked Bloketu.

"She might look well naked," said Hci.

"You are speaking of my maiden," said bloketu, scandalized.

"— On a rope, under a whip." added Hci.

"Bloketu!" protested Iwoso.

"If you want her," said Bloketu, angrily, "you must court her properly."

"I do not court Yellow-Knife women," said Hci. "I kill them, or collar them." He then pulled his kaiila about and, kicking his heels back into the flanks of the beast, took his leave.

"What an arrogant youn man," said Bloketu.

"Do not let him court me," begged Iwoso.

"I might let him court you," said Bloketu.

"Please, no," said Iwoso.

"Then," said Bloketu, smiling. "I might let you spurn him. That would be an excellent lesson for the fellow. Let his suit be rejected, his wooing publicly scorned. It would be a good joke."

"I would rather," said Iwoso, "that you did not permit him to court me at all."

"Why?" asked Bloketu.

"Suppose I sprun his suit," she said, "and he is angry. Suppose he seizes me, and binds me, and carries me away."

"He would not dare," said Bloketu.

"I am only a slave," said Iwoso.

"Have no fear," said Bloketu. "You are my maiden."

"Please do not let him court me," begged Iwoso.

"I will do what I want," said Bloketu.

"Yes, Bloketu," said Iwoso.

"You are afraid of him, aren't you?" asked Bloketu.

"Yes," said Iwoso. "I would be terrified to have to go to his lodge."

"Interesting," said Bloketu.

"You are free, and the daughter of a chief," said Iwoso.

"That is why you cannot understand my fear. But I am only, really, a slave."

"Slaves are so fearful," said Bloketu.

"If you were a slave, you, too, would know fear," said Iwoso.

"Perhaps," said Bloketi.

"We are owned," said Iwoso.

I thought I saw the chieftain's daughter shudder, momentarily, a tiny shudder, one which seemed to be of fear and, if I am not mistaken, of deep excitement and pleasure, perhaps at the wickedly horrifying thought of herself being a slave, of herself being owned. At any rate, I did not think that the lovely Bloketu, if she were to find herself truly enslaved, would experience any difficulty in learning fear. She, like any other slave, I was certain, would acquire it quite easily. It is a property which attaches natrually to the condition. The slave girl is totally at the mercy of the master, in any and every way. It is not surprising, therefore, that she is no stranger to fear.

"If you permit Hci to court me," begged Iwoso, "please do not have me accept his suit."

"I will do as I want," said Bloketu.

"Please do not have me accept his suit!" begged iwoso.

"We will see what mood I am in at the time," said Bloketu, loftily.

"Please!" said Iwoso.

"We will see how I feel at the time," said Bloketu, "whther Hci is nice or not, whether or not I am pleased with you. What I do then will depend on such things."

"Please," begged Iwoso.

"Do not anger me, maiden," said Bloketu, "or I may send you to him for the night, without your clothes and tied, maybe with a quirt tied around your neck, like you were a white female slave!"

Iwoso was immediately silent.

"That is better, my maiden," smiled Bloketu. "Remember you are not yet important."

Iwoso did not respond. I did not understand Bloketu's remark about Iwoso not yet being important. If that was the case, then, I gathered, she would not have to worry about Hci, or, I supposed, other warriors of the Kaiila.

"Are you obedient, my maiden?" asked Bloketu of Iwoso sweetly.

"Yes Mistress," said Iwoso, her head down. This was the first time I had ever heard Iwoso use the word to Bloketu. It is not unusual for a girl to discover that within her velvet bonds there are chains of steel.

"Why should Iwoso become important?" asked Cuwignaka, kneeling near the hide on which he was working. It seemed to me a fair question. Iwoso was, in the final analysis, in spite of being a maiden of a chieftain's daughter, only a slave.

"It does not matter," said Bloketu.

"I would like to know," said Cuwignaka. "I am curious."

"Such matters are not the proper concern of one who is only a pretty young girl like yourself," laughed Bloketu.

"I am not a female slave," said Cuwignaka, "expected to serve in ignorance, unquestioningly, supposedly concerned, truly, only with the pleasures of her master."

"Then you admit that you are a mere female," said Bloketu.

"No," said Cuwignaka.

"Listen to the pretty young thing!" laughed Bloketu.

"I am two years older than you, at least," said Cuwignaka.

"You lost meat!" laughed Bloketu.

"Tell me," said Cuwignaka.

"I think I will call a man, pretty Cuwignaka," she said, "to put you about your sewing."

"It has to do with the Yellow Knives, doesn't it?" asked Cuwignaka.

"Maybe," smiled Bloketu. I saw that she was very vain. Cuwignaka, too, must have understood this.

"If Iwoso is to become important," said Cuwignaka, "then doubtless you would be even more important."

"Perhaps," said Bloketu.

"And if you are important," said Cuwignaka, puzzled, "then surely Watonka, your father, would be even more important."

"Perhaps," said Bloketu.

"But how could one be more important than being a chief of the Isanna?" asked Cuwignaka, genuinely puzzled.

"May I speak, Mistress?" asked Iwoso.

"Yes," said Bloketu.

"If one can bring about peace between our peoples, the Kaiila and the Yellow Knives," she said, "one would surely, in the prestige of this, be very important."

"That is true," said Cuwignaka.

"In doing this," said Iwoso, "it would be like counting a hundred coups, almost like being a high chief of the Kaiila."

"That is very true," said Cuwignaka, kneeling back on the dirt, near the pegged-down hide.

Bloketu seemed relieved. Iwoso, I gathered, subtly, not quite sure of it, was a very clever young woman.

"It is my hope," Iwoso said, "to be of some small help in this business, the bringing about of peace between our peoples."

"You are a noble girl," said Cuwignaka. "I hope that you will be successful."

"Thank you," said Iwoso.

Something about this conversation disturbed me. I was not sure, however, what it was.

Cuwignaka picked up his bone scraper and, once again, began to give his attention to the hide on which he was working.

"Let us return now, Mistress," said Iwoso, "to the lodges of the Isanna." Iwoso, I noted, seemed in a hurry to take her departure.

"But did we not come here to visit with this pretty girl?" asked Bloketu. "Then we were interupted by Hci."

Iwoso was silent.

"We will tarry a moment," said Bloketu. I saw that she had not fulfilled, to her satisfaction, her desire to have sport with Cuwignaka. I did not know why she hated him so.

"Do not wait on my account," said Cuwignaka, not looking up from his work.

"She seems very dilligent," said Bloketu.

"Yes, Mistress," said Iwoso.

"What are you doing, pretty girl?" asked Bloketu.

"Scraping a hide," said Cuwignaka. "Probably what you should be doing."

"Saucy girl," chided Bloketu.

"I do not care to be mocked," said Cuwignaka.

"You are very famous," said Bloketu. "All the Kailla know of you. The Dust Legs, too, with whom we trade, know of you."

Cuwignaka grunted, irritably. It was only too likely that, through trade chains, his story had widely circulated in the Barrens. The Dust Legs, for example, who do a great deal of trading, have dealings with several tribes which, in their turn, have dealings with others. Fore example, although the Dust Legs and the Fleer are enemies, as are the Kaiila and the Fleer, the Dust Legs have dealings with the Sleen, and the Sleen, in turn, trade with trives such as the Yellow Knives and the Fleer. Thus, indirectly, even tribes hostile to the Kaiila, or normally so, such as te Fleer and the Yellow Knives might, quite possibly, have heard of Cuwignaka.

"But what they probably do not know," said Bloketu," is how pretty you are, and what a marvelous worker you are." Cuwignaka, to be sure, was a very hard worker. I did not doubt but what he was one of the hardest workers in the camp.

"It is too bad you lost all that meat," said Bloketu. "But such things can happen."

Cuwignaka did not respond to her.

"Doubtless you will not let it happen again," she said.

Cuwignaka did not respond.

"All in all, I think you would be a very valuable girl to have in a lodge, Cuwignaka," said Bloketu. "If you are not careful, the young men will come courting you."

Cuwignaka worked steadily, angrily. He did not speak. I was afraid he would cut the skin.

"Can you cook and sew?" asked Bloketu.

"I can cook," said Cuwignaka. "I am not much good at sewing."

"They young men will not mind," said Bloketu. "You are so pretty."

"Maybe not," said Cuwignaka. "You manage very well, it seems."

"Lets us go, Mistress," said Iwoso.

"Be quiet," snapped Bloketu to Iwoso.

"Yes, Mistress," said Iwoso.

"What do you mean by that?" asked Bloketu, angrily, of Cuwignaka.

"It is well known among the Kaiila," said Cuwignaka, kneeling back on his heels, putting aside the bone scraper and looking up at Bloketu, "that you are not good for much."

"Oh?" said Bloketu. She was taken aback, a bit, I think, by finding herself, ultimately only a woman, suddenly, unexpectedly, the object of so challenging and frank a gaze.

"Yes," said Cuwignaka.

"The young men do not seem to mind," said Bloketu, collecting herself, loftily.

"That is because you are the daughter of a chief," said Cuwignaka.

"No," said Bloketu, angrily. "It is because I am beautiful."

"Who has told you that?" asked Cuwignaka.

"Many men," she said.

"It was dark outside," said Cuwignaka.

"No!" said Bloketu.

"They tell you that because you are the daughter of a chief," said Cuwignaka.

"No!" said Bloketu.

"They want a kaiila from Watonka," said Cuwignaka.

"No!" said Bloketu.

Cuwignaka shrugged. I smiled. Swiftly had the tables been turned on the beauty, putting her on the defensive. I saw, too, in so simple an exchange, that Cuwignaka was intellectually dominant over Bloketu.

"Everyone tells me I am beautiful," said Bloketu, angrily.

"Have I ever told you that?" asked Cuwignaka.

"In a way," said Bloketu, warily. "Out on the prarie you told me that it was not enough to be merely beautiful."

"Oh?" asked Cuwignaka.

"Yes!" she said.

"Well," said Cuwignaka, "that may be ture. It is possible. It may be that it is not enough, at least among the Kaiila, where there is much work to be done, to be merely beautiful."

"Thus," she said, triumphantly, "you think that I am beautiful!"

"Did I say I was talking about you?" asked Cuwignaka.

"No," she said.

"Well, maybe I was not talking about you," he said.

"Oh!" she cried, angrily.

"That is something to think about," he said.

"Do you think I am beautiful?" she asked.

Cuwignaka looked up at her.

"Do you think I am beautiful?" she asked.

"Maybe," he said.

"Maybe?" she asked.

Cuwignaka then rose to his feet. He went to stand before Bloketu. He looked down upon her. He was a head taller than she. She stepped back a bit. "Yes, Bloketu," he said. "You are beautiful."

"Now you speak the truth!" she said.

"And I shall speak further truths," he said. "You are beautiful as a free woman, and you would be even more beautiful as a slave, stripped and kneeling before me, in my collar, in my lodge, waiting to be commanded."

"I am the daughter of a chief!" she said.

"You would look well, crawling to me," he said, "with a quirt in your teeth."

"Beware!" she said.

"It is well that you are of the kaiila," he said. "Else I might take the warpath, to take you, to bring you back to my lodge as a naked slave."

"Oh!" she cried.

"I desire you, Bloketu," said Cuwignaka. "I desire you with the greatest ferocity with which a man can desire a woman, that he would have her at his feet, as his owned slave."

The girl turned and feld away. She was terrified. Never, hitherto, had she dreamed she could be the object of such passion.

She was swiftly followed by Iwoso, her maiden.

Cuwignaka, standing up, looked after the two girls. They are pretty, aren't they?" he asked.

"Yes," I said.

"Do you think they would make good slaves?" he asked.

"Yes," I said.

"Who do you think is the most beauitful, Iwoso or Bloketu?" he asked.

"Bloketu," I said.

"I do, too," said Cuwignaka.

"I was somewhat distrubed by portions of the conversation between you, and Bloketu and Iwoso," I said, "in particular, the business about the enlargement of Watonka's importance."

Cuwignaka grinned. "I am afraid," he said, "that Bloketu and Iwoso were not entirely candid with us about that matter."

"How is that?" I asked.

"It seems they would have us believe that Watonka's enhancement would be largely one of presitige."

"Would it not be so?" I asked.

"There would be much prestige, to be sure," smiled Cuwignaka, "but, too, doubtless, in the giving of gifts, many kaiila would change hands."

"I see," I said.

"Already Watonka is the richest of all the Kaiila," said Cuwignaka. "Should he be successful in bringing about this peace, as we shall hope he shall be, he will doubtless be the recipient of many kaiila, perhaps even a thousand, gifts from both the Yellow Knives and the Kaiila themselves."

"I see," I said.

"Over his herds the sky will be dark with fleer," said Cuwignaka.

I smiled. The location of large herds of kaiila is sometimes marked by the presence of circling, swarming fleer. They come to feed on the insects stirred up in the grass, activated by the movements of the beasts' paws.

"Thus," said Cuwignaka, "Bloketu would be important, being the daughter of such a man, and even Iwoso, only a slave, would become celebrated among several tribes, serving as a maiden in so rich a household."

I laughed. "It is easy to see why Bloketu and Iwoso might have been hesitant to speak of this aspect of the matter," I said, "seeing what profits might accure to them."

"Particularly," smiled Cuwignaka, "since matters, at this time, are, I gather, so uncertain and tentative."

"Do you think that there will be peace between the Yellow Knives and the Kaiila?" I asked.

"I do not know," said Cuwignaka. "I hope so."

"There is a pretty slave," I said.

"Yes," said Cuwignaka.

The blond-haired girl, stripped, collared, regarded me with contempt, tossed her head, and passed on. She ws the property of a red master.

"I remember her," I said.

"She came in with the Isanna," said Cuwignaka. "We saw her then."

"Yes," I said. She had been part of the loot display of the Isanna, a trinket in the procession of their splendor. She had been at someone's stirrup, naked, her hands bound behind her back, a quirt hung about her neck.

"Sheis arrogant," said Cuwignaka.

"Yes," I said. I remembered that she had, then, to, looked upon me with contempt. She was owned by a red master. I was only a white slave.

"She is probably kept in one of the Isanna's girl herds," said Cuwingaka.

I nodded. These herds, usually consisting of from forty to fifty white females, stripped, are usually kept a pasang or so from camp, with the kaiila herds. The Isanna women, on the whole, object to such women being kept in the private lodges.

Before the winter such herds are usually sold off. Those girls who are not sold off must be clothed and brought indoors. They are usually kept in the lodges of warrior societies or in private lodges. Some are kept in girl lodges, in the charge of a warrior who, for the trnure of his governance over them, acts as their master. Some, to their horror, are put in the keeping of a red female. Usually, after a day or two of this, they beg to kneel again, head down, at the feet of men. In the summer most such girls, and others, too, being added to them, are put out again, with the kaiila. The Isanna is only the third largest band of the Kaiila. It is, however, indisputably, the richest. Its wealth, for example, in both kaiila and white females is well known on the plains. Boys, with ropes and whips, watch over the women. They may, of course, cut any women they wish out of the herd and use her.

"I myself," said Cuwignaka," would prefer to keep slaves in my own lodge."

"There would be too many of them for the Isanna to do that," I said.

"They are pertentious, and vain," said Cuwignaka. "They do not need that many women."

"They sell off the herds in the winter," I said.

"But only to increase them again, in the spring," he said.

"That white females are herded by the Isanna, more so than with other bands, or tribes," I said, "has, I gather, something to do with the Isanna women."

"Yes," said Cuwignaka. "They do not want them in lodges."

"That is understandable," I said.

"But, in such things, the men should be the masters, fully," said Cuwignaka.

"That is true," I said.

"It is well known that Isanna women are insufficiently disciplined," said Cuwignaka.

"Bloketu is insufficiently disciplined, for example?" I asked.

"Yes," said Cuwignaka, "Bloketu is insufficietnly disciplined. Bloketu needs discipline, severe discipline."

"It might be pleasant to administer it to her," I said.

"yes," said Cuwignaka, grimly.

I smiled. Fortunately for the lovely Bloketu she stood high among the Kaiila. If she were a foreign woman who had fallen into Cuwignaka's hands, I did not doubt but what she would learn discipline, well and swiftly.

I watched the rear of the blond girl moving away, between the lodges. It moved well.

"You are hot," smiled Cuwignaka.

I did not respond. I was in misery.

"Winyela sleeps within the lodge," said Cuwignaka. "Why do you not whip her awake, and use her? She is only a slave. Too, she was sent to you to be disciplined."

"No," I said.

"One should not be too soft with female slaves," said Cuwignaka.

"I know," I said.

"It is Canka's will that you use her, and well," he said.

"Do you think so?" I asked.

"Of course," said Cuwignaka. "He is a red savage. Do not be culturally confused."

I shrugged.

"He will wish for her to be returned to his lodge a better slave than she left it," said Cuwignaka.

"Perhaps," I said.

"Lash her awake," said Cuwignaka. "Set her, without mercy, about her duties. Let her be in no doubt that it is men who are her masters."

"I think I shall let her sleep," I smiled.

"As you wish," said Cuwignaka.

"She has suffered enough for one day, I think," I said.

"As you wish," said Cuwignaka.

"But," I said, "I think I shall go to see Grunt."

"And look for Wasnaphodi," laughed Cuwignaka.

"Maybe," I said.

"Poor Wasnapohdi!" lauhed Cuwignaka.