"Forgive me, Master," she begged.

He looked down at her, angrily. Then he withdrew the lance point from her chin.

RElieved of its pressure she put herself to her back in the dirt before him. She looked up at him, frightened. "Please, forgive me Master," she begged.

"You are well tied for the pleasures of Yellow Knives," said Cuwignaka scornfully, looking down upon the supine, exotically bound suppliant.

"Forgive me, Master," she begged. "Please." She opened her legs to Cuwignaka, spreading them even more widely than the nature of her tie required.

"Why should Yellow Knives be first?" I asked.

Cuwignaka looked at me.

"Please, Master," begged the girl.

"Have you ever had a woman?" I asked.

"No," he said.

"Take her," I said. "I will keep watch.

the girl gasped, lifted and held.

"Master!" she breathed.

"Aiii," cried Cuwignaka, softly.

"Master, Master," she said. Cuwignaka seemed loathe to let her go. Then he thrust her from him, to her side in the dirt. He stood up.

"I did not know such pleasures could exist," he said, "such feelings! Such triumph! Such glory!"

"There is no substitute for a slave female," I said. This had been known to men throughout history.

Cuwignaka gently, by the hair, pulled the girl to a sitting poistion. She turned the head and kissed and licked at his leg.

"Do you think he received pleasure?" he asked.

"Yes," I said.

"Might not a slave dissemble in such a matter?" he asked.

"Certain things thier bodies cannot dissemble," I said. I took the girl by the hair and, gently but firmly, pulled back her head. "Do you see these discolorations," I asked, indicating irregular reddish splotches on her fair skin, "the results of capillarly distention?"

"Yes," he said.

"They are correlated with her pleasure."

"Interesting," said Cuwignaka.

I then turned the girl in profile to him. "Consider her nipples," I said. "They are hard and high, distended, sweet and swollen with blood."

"Yes," said Cuwignaka.

"This sign, too," I said, "invariably indicates the presence of sexual pleasure in the human female."

"Are such things generally known to masters?" asked Cuwignaka.

"I would suppose so," I said. I then released the girl's hair and she put her head forward, and down, humbly.

"It would not be in a girl's best interest, then, to dissemble in such a matter." said Cuwignaka.

"No," I said. "And after a beating or two she will strive with all her might to experience authentic sexual pleasures, and as deeply and fully as possible."

"Excellent," said Cuwignaka.

"And thus, in a sense," I said, "she sets herself the task of making herself all the more helplessly her master's slave."

"Superb," said Cuwignaka.

The girl turned her head again and, softly, timidly, kissed him on the leg.

"But whether she experiences pleasure or not is unimportant," I said, "for she is only a slave."

"Of course," said Cuwignaka.

The girl put down her head.

"We must get kaiila," I said.

"We will look for tracks," he said.

At the perimeter of the holding area we looked back at the two women sitting, bound, in the dirt. The one who had been so frightened of Cuwignaka, and who had placated him with her bound beauty, was looking after us.

"I had not known such pleausres could exist," said Cuwignaka.

"They can be as long or as brief, as superfical or as profound, as you wish," I said.

He then gave his attention to the ground, looking for tracks.

I looked back for a time at the two nude, bound women, women who were owned my men, who cold be bought and sold, who were slaves.

"Perhaps you should not have had a slave," I said.

"Why not?" he asked.

"They may spoil you for other women," I said.

The three girls screamed, their tethers dropped, their hands tied behind their back.

The Yellow Knife behind them, the arrow in his chest, slipped back, awkwardly, turned, and fell heavily into the dust.

The other Yellow Knife dropped his lance into attack position, cried out rage and kicked his heels back inot the flanks of the kaiila. The animal leapt toward Cuwignaka.

"Stay to the outside of his lance!" I cried. Cuwignaka had no shield. He must fend the stroke with his own lance. Hadhe a shield he might have sought an inside attacking position fending to the left, striking then toward the opened center. I fitted another arrow to the string. I took it from my hand, where I had held it in readiness, oriented linearly with the bow itself. In the warfare of the red savages the first feed is usually from the bow hand or from the mouth to the string; the second feed is from the quiver to the hand or the mouth. Needless to say the arrow may be moved much more swiftly from the bow hand or the mouth to the string than from the quiver to the string.

Cuwignaka struck the lance away to his right with his own lance. The passage was so swift he could not bring his own lance over that of his foe. The kaiila stopped almost short, in a scattering of dust, jerked back on its haunches and wheeled about. I lifted and lowered the bow. I could not get a clear shot. In the second passage Cuwignaka darted to his right. His opponent cried out in fury, unable to clear the neck of his kaiila with the lance. Cuwignaka's upward thrust, however, was easily turned by the Yellow Knife's stout war shield, of rawhide thickened and hardened by shrinking over heated stones, from the neck, between the shoulders, or the humped back, behind the head, bearing the trident of the bull kailiauk.

Again I lowered the bow, cursing, furious, changing my position.

The kaiila again spun about, scratching, snorting, with an explosion of dust.

The rider brought the lance over the beast's neck, inside of the shield on his left arm. In this position, the enemy to the left, the rider affords himself the protection of the shield. this is commonly regarded as more than adequate compensation for the somewhat reduced fanlike ambit of play, that between the shield and the neck of the kaiila, then open to the lance. The kaiila was a trained beast. Its left ear was notched. It would doubtelss maneuver in such a way as to keep Cuwignaka on its left in its charge, even changing its attack trajectory, if neccessary, to do so.

I tried to get to the rider's right. Already he had charged. I heard the two shafts crack together, Cuwignaka fending the driving point away, and then, to my dismay, I heard a swift, striking sound, and saw Cuwignaka struck from the side of the kaiila, and reeling and stggering backwards, then sprawling, his lags loose under him, to the dust, struck by the passing shield, the weight of the kaiila and rider behind it, his onw lance spun from his grip. With a trained kaiila, the animal aligning itself in such a way as to optimize the play of the rider's lance, there is little defense against this sort of thing. Being close enough to sturdily fend the blow brings one, if one is afoot, and shieldless, normally, close enough to risk the strike of the shield. The blow was such that I feared, for a moment, his head struck to the side, that his neck might be broken. The rider spun the kaiila about, to his right, keeping his shield between himself and my arrow. Cuwignaka was on one knee, half risen, shaking his head. His weapon was a dozen feet away. The rider dropped his point for the kill.

"Down!" I cried.

Cuwignaka hurled himself headlong under the paws of the kaiila and the lance thrust down, driving into the dust. The kaiila almost atop Cuwignaka then turned again, and again, the lance thrust down. Cuwignaka desperately seized it and it, braced under the Yellow Knife's arm, lifted, pulling him to his feet, skidding and half dragged in the dust. The rider cried out in anger. Cuwignaka clung to the lance. There was blood at the side of his head and run into his left eye. I was now only a few feet from the rider. The rider was bent down, struggling to retain control of the lance. Cuwignaka was between him and my weapon. The rider, not unaware of my presence, jerked the kaiila about, bringing his shield once more between us. The rider jerked at the lance and it tore against the palms of Cuwignaka's hands, blood at the wood. Then he swung the lance down and against the side of the kaiila and Cuwignaka lost his balance and the lance, rolling under the paws of the beast. The Yellow Knife, with a whoop of triumph, brandishing the lance, sped his kaiila forward, to turn it for another passage. I lowed my bow. Cuwignaka was on his feet, sprinting after the rider. I smiled. He would, if the Yellow Knife did not vary his pattern, have time to make his desperate connection. The Yellow Knife jerked his kaiila to a halt, it rearing up, fighitng the jaw rope, clawing at the air, and Cuwignaka, almost at the same time, leaped to its back, behind the Yellow Knife. They plunged to the dust. In a moment, Cuwignaka rose to his feet, his knife bloody.