"If, by Sephar, you mean the strange caves inside the high cliff--yes."

The Sepharian shook his head in honest tribute. "But why did you come here? You must have known they would get you sooner or later."

"They have my mate here," Tharn explained briefly. "I came to get her."

"And now they have you both!"

Tharn's eyes narrowed and his jaw tightened. "They will not keep us," he said simply.

The other smiled a little. "I am Katon," he said, after a slight pause.

"Who are you?"

Tharn told him, and the conversation lapsed for a while.

Meanwhile, a guard had entered the great room and approached Vulcar, the one who had reminded Tharn of Toa, the hawk. The two men spoke together for a few moments, then the captain of the guards came up behind Tharn and dropped a hand roughly on the cave-man's shoulder.

Tharn, in the midst of strangers, the memory of last night's battle still fresh in his mind, acted instinctively.

Bounding from his stool, he whirled on the startled Vulcar. Before the stupefied captain could lift a hand in defense, he found himself flat on his back, two knees pinning his shoulders to the floor, while iron fingers were shutting off his breath.

The entire body of prisoners and attendants was thrown into confusion.

One of the guards leaped to the side of the cave-man and would have driven a spear into his back had not Katon vaulted the table and shoved him sprawling.

As though by signal, the prisoners threw themselves upon the handful of guards, and the room became a seething inferno of flailing arms and threshing legs, the four walls echoing m.u.f.fled shouts, screams, curses.

Unmindful of the tumult about him, Katon knelt beside Tharn and the now weakly struggling Vulcar. Grasping the Cro-Magnon's steel-thewed wrists, he tugged with all his more than ordinary strength to loosen the awful grip.

"Stop it, Tharn!" he panted. "Let go! If he dies they will kill you!"

Slowly the red mist of anger faded as Katon's words reached the savage brain; and slowly, almost regretfully, Tharn obeyed.

As he rose from the floor and stepped back, a large group of guards broke into the room and joined the fight between attendants and prisoners. With l.u.s.ty swings of spear shafts the newcomers beat the battling captives into a semblance of order against one wall.

As for Vulcar--he lay where Tharn had left him, tortured lungs sucking air in great gulps as the livid hue of his face gradually faded. Vulcar had been very near to death.

Finally he got shakily to his feet, a.s.sisted by two of his men. For a full minute he could not speak as he swayed there, rubbing at the angry red welts where Tharn's merciless fingers had closed.

"Seize that madman!" he croaked at last; "seize and tie him! A few touches of the whip will teach him how to act!"

Before the hesitant warriors could act, Katon had stepped into the breach.

"Wait, Vulcar," he pleaded. "Do not have him whipped. The man is a barbarian; he believed you had attacked him, and acted so. Had he stopped to think, he would not have dared raise a hand against the mightiest fighter in all Sephar."

Vulcar was shrewd enough to see that Katon had made it possible for him to save face before the others without chancing another battle. He realized the cave-man would resist an attempt to punish him, and such resistance might inflame the prisoners anew.

"Perhaps you are right, Katon," he admitted reluctantly. "But I shall not be so lenient if it happens again."

Tharn, listening, shrugged indifferently. The incident was closed as far as he was concerned, and Vulcar's thinly veiled threat did not impress him.

"I was about to tell your wild friend," the captain continued, "that Urim has sent word he is to be brought before him at once. Perhaps you had better come along, Katon; you seem to be the only one able to control him."

The three men crossed the huge cell, pa.s.sed through the guarded doorway and went up a long ramp to the first floor of the palace. There they turned left and moved along a narrow corridor until stopped by a heavy door. Vulcar rapped on this with his knife hilt, it opened from the opposite side and they stepped through.

What met the cave-man's eyes caused him to catch his breath, so unusual did it appear to one who had known nothing more elaborate than simple caves and tangled fastness of jungle and forest.

Here was a great, high-ceilinged room, well-filled with warriors, citizens, slaves--even a sprinkling of women--all grouped about a low wooden frustum, its four sides consisting of steps. On the flattened apex stood a large chair, complete with arm-rests and towering back.

Here sat the dignified figure of Urim, ruler of Sephar.

As Tharn and his companions entered, all conversation ceased, every eye turned toward them, and there was a great craning of necks. Some of those present had heard details of the cave-man's capture--details that had lost nothing in the telling. His G.o.d-like figure, the rippling sinews beneath a sun-bronzed skin, the primitive loin-cloth of panther hide--all drew forth murmurs of admiration.

As for Tharn--he strode toward the elevated throne with all of Sadu's majestic fearlessness. His level gray eyes bored into those of the man above him, and despite himself, Urim stiffened under their challenge.

When they had halted, Urim spoke, addressing his words to Vulcar.

"Is this the prowler you captured in the slave quarters?" he asked, indicating Tharn.

"It is, O Urim."

The ruler's eyes shifted to the stiffly erect figure of Katon. "Why have you brought this man?" he demanded.

"The prisoner has been troublesome," explained Vulcar. "Since Katon seems able to manage him, I brought him along."

Urim's face lost some of its good nature. "Well, Katon," he said coldly, "I have not forgotten you. Do you find the pits more to your taste than being in charge of the quarry slaves?"

Katon's face was without expression. "Both places have their good points, O Urim," he replied evenly.

Urim scowled. "Let me remind you the Games are not far away. I doubt that you will find many good points there--unless they be fang points!"

He turned back to Tharn. "What were you seeking in Sephar, forest-man?"

"I came here for my mate," Tharn said briefly.

"Your mate?"

"Yes. She was taken by your men three suns ago not far from here."

Urim looked questioningly at Vulcar. "He must mean the girl you brought in a few days ago. I understood the man with her had been slain."

"This is the one," admitted Vulcar. "There is an arrow wound--a fresh one--in his side. When we took the girl, the man with her was struck by an arrow. But we thought he had died from a blow from one of our clubs; it seems impossible that he has survived its force."

For several minutes the ruler of Sephar sat lost in thought, his eyes on the giant Cro-Magnon. This wild man's fate was in his hands, and his alone. As a slave the man would make an excellent guard or warrior--that is, were he tractable, amenable to discipline. Yet something warned him this man would recognize no authority or law beyond his own. Such a slave would only stir up unrest, perhaps open rebellion among his fellows.

And so Urim made his decision.

"Confine him to the pits, Vulcar," he commanded in dismissal. "He is to take part in the Games."