"I was within my rights," said Canka.

"Let me, and the Sleen Soldiers, punish him," said Hci. "Let us destroy his lodge and break his weapons. Then we will bring you the woman naked, and tied in leather."

"I will think on it," said mahpiyasapa.

"I was within my rights," said Canka.

"Deliver the woman to me," said Mahpiyasapa.

"No," said Canka. "She is mine."

"Perhaps I will take her," said Mahpiyasapa. "I will think on it."

"She is mine," said Canka.

Mahpiyasapa shrugged. "If I want," he said, "I will take her."

Canka, in fury, turned about and strode from the group.

"Beware of an angry young man," said Watonka to Mahpiyasapa. Hci looked after Canka.

"Perhaps you will come sew with us sometime," said Bloketu, loftly and beautiful on the kaiila, to Cuwignaka.

Cuwignaka did not respond to her.

"Isn't she pretty, Iwoso?" asked Bloketu.

"Yes," said Iwoso.

"I wonder if she is the sort of woman who must please warriors," said Bloketu.

Cuwignaka regarded her with fury. I saw that he would not have minded teaching the lofty Bloketu something about the pleasing of men.

"Perhpas," laughed Iwoso.

This, too, stung Cuwignaka. He, Kaiila, did not care to be the butt of the humor of one who, when all was said and done, was naught but a slave.

"You were told to go away," said Hci to Cuwignaka. "Dose a sister not obey her brother?"

"He is my older brother," said Cuwignaka. "I will go away." He then turned and left. I followed him. Behind us we heard the laughter of the two girls.

"It was a mistake," I told him, when we were between the lodges, "to intrude yourself so closely upon the meeting of the Isanna and Isbu."

"Not at all," said Cuwignaka. "How often does such a meeting take place? Who would wish to miss it? Too, I wanted to see the white slaves, and Bloketu and Iwoso."

"You have feelings towards such women?" I asked.

"Yes," said Cuwignaka. "I would like to own them. In my quirt, if necessary, teach them to obey me well."

"What of Bloketu and Iwoso?" I asked.

"If they were slaves," said Cuwignaka, "I would strip them and teach them, like the slaves they would then be no different from others, to obey me well."

"Would you quirt them?" I asked.

"Of course," said Cuwignaka. "If they were even the least bit displeasing they, like the others, would be well quirted."

"Iwoso is already a slave," I said.

"Yes," said Cuwignaka, "in a sense. But she is really almost free. She is a girl's maiden."

"That is true," I said. Iwoso did not even wear a collar.

"Where are you going?" I asked.

"After the hunt," said Cuwignaka, "the great dance will be held."

I had to walk quickly to keep up with Cuwignaka.

"Where are you going now?" I asked Cuwignaka.

"To see the cutting of the pole," he said.

"Where does this take place?" I asked. I did not understand what was going on.

"This year it is only three pasangs from camp," he said.

"I do not understand," I said.

"This year," Cuwignaka, "I am going to dance. I am going to show them I am a man."

"The pole," I said, "is used in this dance?"

"Of course," said Cuwignaka.

"Should we not get the kaiila?" I asked.

"It is better for such as us to go afoot," said Cuwignaka.

"But others will be mounted?" I asked.

"Yes," said Cuwignaka.

"Who will be coming?" I asked.

"The Isanna are now here," said Cuwignaka. "Many will come, from Isbu, from the Casmu, from the Wismahi, from the Napoktan, from the Isanna."

"Who will select the pole?" I asked.

"The medicine chief of the dance," said Cuwignaka. "This year it is Cancega, of the Casmu." 'Cancega' here, I think, would be best translated as "Drum." More literally, it is a skin stretched over a hoop. The expression 'cega', itself, may refer to a kettle, a pot, a pail, a bucket, or so on. 'Cancega', then, in a sense, could be taken to mean such things as "Kettle Skin," or "Pot Skin." The translation "Drum," all things considered, seems to be the best in this context.

"Who will cut down this pole," I asked, "chieftains?"

"No," laughed Cuwignaka. "How little you understand these things!"

I shrugged.

"Do you not understand the meaning of the pole?"

"No," I said.

"It is a pole," said Cuwignaka, "a great pole."

"Yes?" I said.

"Who, then, must begin its preparation for the great manhood dance?" asked Cuwignaka.

"I do not know," I said.

"A captive female," said Cuwignaka.

"Would a slave do?" I asked.

"That is ideal," said Cuwignaka, "provided she is not Kaiila."

"Has it been decided," I asked, "who will perform this crucial role in the ceremony?"

"Yes," said Cuwignaka. "A suitable slave has been selected."

In a few moments we had left the vicinity of the lodges and were making our way across the fields. We passed some kaiila herds. Too, we passed some small herds of stripped white women, huddled together. Each wore a beaded collar. These women were mostly brunets. They had been brought in by the Isanna, with their kaiila. They had not been regarded as being desirable enough to be displayed in the procession of the Isanna. Boys, mounted on kaiila, watched out over these herds, including those of the women. The boys carried rawhide ropes, and whips.

"How beautiful she is," said Cuwignaka.

"Yes," I said.

My breath was almost taken away by the incredible beauty of the former Miss Millicent Aubrey-Welles, once a debutante from Pennsylvania. She was slender and lovely. She was fairly complexioned and had delicately beautiful and sensitive featuers. She was exquisitely feminine. The slavers who had originally selected her to wear a Gorean collar had known their business. She was dressed, and adorned, in all the colorful, glittering, striking barbaric richness, in all the impressiveness and splendor, in all the festive display, fit for feasts and dances, of a red-savage female. Even the daughters of chieftains, such as Bloketu, the daughter of Watonka, might have envied her the sumptuousness and glory of her raiment. Her long shirtdress of soft-tanned tabuk hide was almost white. Soo, too, were her knee-length leggings and moccasins. These things, too, were painted with designs, and fringed. Her hair, red, radiant in the sun, had been braided in the fashion of the red savages. It was tied with golden string. Necklaces of shells and beads, and ornaments and trinkets, and pierced coins, of gold and silver, hung about her neck. On her wrists, visible within the capelike sleeves of the shirtdress, were silver bracelets. To look at her one might not have thought she was a slave. To be sure, her wrists were tied behind her back, and on her thorat, leading to riders on each side of her, were two rawhide tethers. Detectable, but inconspicuous among all this finery, thrust up under her chin, above the tethers, was a beaded collar. It was Canka's. It was to him that she, in the final analysis, belonged.

"That is Cancega," whispered Cuwignaka to me.

A man was now riding slowly forward, alone, toward some trees a few hundred yards away. Lines of such trees, in the Barrens, and low, sloping geodesics, watersheds, tend to mark, often, the location of the tiny stream which occur in the country. Such streams, in this area, would be tributary to the Lower, or Southern, Kaiila. At this time of year, of course, they would be little more than trickles of water.

Indeed, at this time of year, a man could wade the Southern Kaiila. Later in the year, in Kantasawi, many small streams would be dry altogether and even major rivers, like the Southern Kaiila itself, would seem little more than pools of water in a riverbed. The body of Cancega, clad in little more than a breechclout and a roach of feathers, was covered with medicine paint. In his hand he carried a long, feathered medicine wand.