AT the thunderous roar of the beast just above their heads, about to spring, Jan and Koh both leaped forward as if propelled by a powerful springboard, and ran as fast as they could. There was the thud of an immense body on the spot they had just vacated, followed by the gallop of huge pads and the rattle of long claws on the stones.
They had not gone far when Jan knew, by the increasing proximity of the sounds from behind, that the great beast was rapidly gaining on them. He threw a quick glance over his shoulder, and recognized it instantly from a picture he had seen in Ramona’s book—a giant cave bear.
Knowing that further flight was useless, and that unarmed as he was he would be quickly pulled down and devoured, he decided to stake everything on the chance that he might be able to outwit this terrible enemy. Suddenly halting in his tracks, he turned and faced his pursuer.
The bear instantly came to a sliding halt, alert for a trap or ambush. When it appeared to have satisfied itself that no hunters lurked nearby, and that it was confronted only by a single unarmed man—for Koh had continued his running, not knowing that Jan had stopped—it reared up on its hind legs, head and shoulders taller than a tall man, and advanced, roaring thunderously.
Jan raised the carcass of the little eohippus over his head, then hurled it straight at the oncoming beast. It just grazed one furry ear and alighted some ten feet behind the bear. But in the instant of its passing the monster had got a whiff of its favorite food, the elusive but toothsome little dawn horse.
Suddenly dropping to all fours, the bear turned arid started toward the carcass. Jan took advantage of this by adding to the distance between himself and the monster. The beast heard him and swung about again, undecided whether to take the game already killed or pursue that which was still alive.
But the bear was not the only carnivore in the vicinity that had scented freshly killed eohippus. A slinking, dog-like beast came trotting down the trail, sniffing hungrily, and keeping a wary eye on the bear. The latter did not hear it until it loosened a small stone. Then it swung about with a snarl.
The presence of the new brute, which Jan recognized as a hyaenodon, decided the issue. With a fierce roar of rage, the bear sprang for the intruder just as it was about to seize the prize. The hyaenodon leaped back out of reach of the great, flailing claws, and squatted on its haunches. It could not hope to get a full meal now, but it would wait with doglike patience until the bear had finished, hoping that the lordly beast might leave a few edible scraps.
Jan did not wait to see more, but hurried on after his companion. He found Koh coming toward him a few hundred feet down the trail.
“I missed you,” said the prince, “and so came back, fearing the bear had caught you.”
“There is still danger,” said Jan. “I gave it the eohippus, but that will only be a mouthful for such a big brute. Come on.”
They set off at a stiff trot, which either of the youths was capable of keeping up for hours. Presently Koh stopped and caught his companion’s arm.
“Look!” he cried, excitedly. “A boat!”
The sun was dropping behind the tree-clothed river bluffs as they hurried down the bank to examine their prize: It was only a crude dugout canoe with one paddle and a barbed, three-pronged fishing spear lying in the bottom. But to these two it was as welcome as the most luxurious and palatial yacht.
“Get in the other end,” said Koh. “I’ll push off.”
Jan did as he was bidden. He had had no experience with canoes except as a passenger, and bowed to his friend’s superior knowledge and skill.
Koh lifted the anchor, a stone with a rope around it, into the boat. Then he pushed off, scrambled aboard, and seized the paddle.
He had not taken two strokes when there came an angry shout from the river bank. A bearded, sun-bronzed white man, naked save for breech-clout and sandals, ran down to the water’s edge and launched a long spear at them. It flew high, but Jan stood up and caught it.
“Come back, thieves!” shouted the man on the bank. “Come back, cowards, and I will kill you with my bare hands!”
Koh was using the paddle with considerable dexterity.
“Too bad to take his boat,” he said. “Evidently he is a fisherman, and this is his means of livelihood.” He shouted over his shoulder to the raging man on the bank. “We’ll leave your boat on the island for you—straight across. Come over the bridge and get it.”
In reply, the man hurled after them a choice collection of Satmuan curses. Then the darkness descended suddenly, and he faded from view.
Koh was an expert with the paddle, and it did not take him long to reach the opposite shore. The prow grounded among some rushes, and Jan, leaping out, dragged it up until more than half of the boat was out of the water. He retained the spear which the bearded man had cast at him, and Koh followed with the fishing spear.
For some time they splashed through a grassy marsh. Presently they struck higher ground, and entered a thick, dark wood. Here were many strange smells and sounds. Great beasts crashed through, the scents of which were totally unfamiliar to Jan. Weird cries, shrieks, bellows and roars resounded in the darkness, unlike anything he had ever heard in his own jungle. These made him cautious, so he progressed but slowly.
Koh had never been in the jungle at night before, and though he was a brave youth his nerves were constantly on edge at each new noise. He was following Jan, holding onto the butt of his spear, so they would not become separated in the inky darkness.
There were mighty, flesh-eating killers abroad in the jungle. No mistake about that. From time, to time they heard the plaintive death cries of helpless creatures dragged down by carnivores, and the struggles’ of others.
With immense relief they emerged from the jungle about midnight. The moon had risen, and they saw through a ten-foot barricade of heavy posts, set about four inches apart, a rolling plain covered with short grass. Busily cropping this grass with their parrot-like beaks, singly and in scattered groups, were several hundred of the terrible, three-horned mounts of the Satmuans.
One triceratops grazing near them evidently heard them or caught their scent, for it lowered its immense head and charged belligerently, clear up to the paling. There it stopped, snorting and pawing the earth.
“It looks as if we will have to go around this pasture,” said Koh. “I’d rather go back into that dark jungle than climb in there with those brutes.”
“If they are so fierce, how is it that the soldiers and hunters can ride them?” asked Jan.
“They learn to know their masters and their masters’ people,” replied Koh. “They are fighting beasts, you know, ridden by fighting men, and to them all strangers are enemies. Unless restrained by their riders, they will attack any strangers they meet. These beasts are quite docile among Satmuans, but they attack strangers, and will even attack other beasts of their own kind belonging to strangers.”
As they circled the pasture near the paling, the immense brute inside kept pace with their progress. But presently tiring of this, or perhaps convinced that they were not going to enter, it left them with a contemptuous snort, to return to its feeding.
At last Jan and Koh drew near to a long row of low sheds, near which were a number of small, round buildings with lights shining from their windows.
“The stables,” said Koh, “and the houses of the keepers.”
They circled once more, this time through a grove of orange trees planted in straight rows. This brought them up against the northwest wall of the city—a wall fifty feet high, smooth and unscalable. At intervals of five hundred feet along this wall were guard towers, in each of which was a sentinel.
“Well, here we are,” whispered Koh, “This is as far as I can guide you. I don’t know of any way we can get into the city except as prisoners.”
“There must be some way,” said Jan. “Let us look.”
They circled to the left, keeping to the shadow of the wall so they would not be seen from above, until they were scarcely a quarter of a mile from the great, arched north gate. This Koh assured Jan, had been closed for the night, and would be guarded by not less than fifty men.