"Cleaned 'em out, eh?" he queried eagerly. "That's about it. It turned the tide against the Lanskaarn. And after that--I guess it was just butchery. I don't know, of course, and the old man hasn't wanted to tell me much; but anyway, the ladders all went down, and the Folk here made a sortie from the gate, down the causeway, and--and--" "And they've got a lot more of those infernal skeletons hanging on the poles by the fire?" he concluded in a rasping whisper. She nodded, then kept a minute's silence. "Did any of 'em get away in their canoes?" "A few. But in all their history the Folk never won such a victory. Oh, it was glorious, glorious! And all because of you!" "And you, dear!" "And now--now," she went on, "we're not prisoners any more, but--" "Everything coming our way? Is that it?" "That's it. They dragged you out, after the battle, from under a big heap of bodies under the wall." "Outside or inside?" "Outside, on the beach. They brought you in, for dead, boy. And I guess they had an awful time about you, from what I've found out--" "Big powwow, and all that?" "Yes. If you'd died, they'd have gone on a huge war expedition out to the islands, wherever those are, and simply wiped out the rest of the Lanskaarn. But--" "I'm glad I didn't," he interrupted. "No more killing from now on! We want all the living humans we can get; we need 'em in our business!" Stern was growing excited; the girl had to calm him once more. "Be quiet, Allan, or I'll leave you this minute and you shan't know another thing!" she threatened. "All right, I'll be good," he promised. "What next? I'm the Big Chief now, of course? What I say now _goes?_" She answered nothing, but a troubled wrinkle drew between her perfect brows. For a moment there was silence, save for the dull and distant roaring of the flame. By the glow of the bluish light in the hut, Stern looked up at her. Never had she seemed so beautiful. The heavy masses of her hair, parted in the middle and fastened with gold pins such as the Folk wore, framed her wonderful face with twilight shadows. He saw she was no longer clad in fur, but in a loose and flowing mantle of the brown fabric, caught up below the breast with a gold-clasped girdle. "Oh, Beatrice," he breathed, "kiss me again!" She kissed him; but even in the caress he sensed an unvoiced anxiety, a hidden fear. "What's wrong?" asked he anxiously. "Nothing, dear. Now you _must_ be quiet! You're in the patriarch's house here. You're safe--for the present, and--" "For the present? What do you mean?" "See here." the girl threatened, "if you don't stop asking questions, and go to sleep again, I'll leave you alone!" "In that case I promise!" And now obedient, he closed his eyes, relaxed, and let her soothingly caress him. But still another thought obtruded on his mind. "Beatrice?" "Yes, dearest." "How long ago was that fight?" "Oh, a little while. Never mind now!" "Yes, but how long? Two days? Four? Five?"