Phaidor and I were taken below decks, where, still fast bound, we were thrown into a small compartment which contained a single porthole. As our escort left us they barred the door behind them.
We could hear the men working on the broken propellers, and from the porthole we could see that the vessel was drifting lazily toward the south.
For some time neither of us spoke. Each was occupied with his own thoughts. For my part I was wondering as to the fate of Tars Tarkas and the girl, Thuvia.
Even if they succeeded in eluding pursuit they must eventually fall into the hands of either red men or green, and as fugitives from the Valley Dor they could look for but little else than a swift and terrible death.
How I wished that I might have accompanied them. It seemed to me that I could not fa
