I had smote my hands slowly together three times. It was like the beating ofwings. It now stood, I saw, for the Fleer tribe. The fleer is a large, yellow,long-billed, gregarious, voracious bird of the Barrens. It is sometimes alsocalled the Corn Bird or the Maize Bird. I had then drawn my finger across mythroat. That stood for the Kaiila, the Cutthroat tribes. The sign for the Sleentribe had been the same as that for the sleen, the resting of the middle fingersof the right hand on the right thumb, extending the index and little finger,this suggesting the animal's pointed snout and ears. The sign for the YellowKnives had been the sign for knife, followed by the sign for fleer. I laterlearned the sign for knife alone would suffice for this tribe. In the compoundsign fleer presumably occurs as a modifier in virtue of the bird's coloration.

Adjectives in sign commonly, though not always, follow the noun, so to speak.

This arrangement is doubtless to be expected, for it reflects a commongrammatical feature of the spoken languages of the red savages. The word" mazasapa', for example, literally means "black metal'. "Maza' is the word for" metal' and "sapa' is the word for "black'. We would translate the expression,of course, as "iron'. The sign for Kailiauk, as I had expected, was to hold upthree fingers, suggesting the trident of horns adorning the shaggy head of thislarge, short-tempered, small-eyed, lumbering ruminant.

"You have an excellent memory," said Grunt. I had been, of course, as best Icould, reconstructing portions of the conversation which I had earlier seen takeplace between Corn Stalks and Grunt.

I held my hands in front of my body, with the palms facing one another, with theleft hand a bit ahead of the right. I quickly brushed the right palm pass, theloft palm.

"Fast," said Grunt. "Quick. Hurry."

I held my left hand before my body, palm out, with my index and second fingersspread, forming a "V." I held my right band at my fight shoulder, the indexfinger pointing up. I then, quickly, brought my right index finger down,striking into the space between the index finger and second finger of my lefthand.

"Kill," said Grunt, soberly. "Hit. Strike."

I followed this with the sign for many, and then the signs for white man andwhite woman, and for soldiers, and kaiila soldiers, or cavalry.

"Yes," said Grunt "What is this sign?" I asked. I cupped my right hand close to the ground, myfingers partly closed. I then raised it a few inches from the ground, with ashort, wavy motion.

"It is the sign for fire," said Grunt. "Flames."

"It preceded this sign," I said. I then held my fists close to my chest, withthe backs of my own hands down, my index fingers curved. I then made theforward, circular motion, indicative of turning wheels. "This latter sign, as Irecall," I said, "Signifies wagons."

"It does," said Grunt. "Yes."

I was then silent. I did not feel much like speaking. I listened to the crackleof the fire.

"A wagon, or wagons, of course," said Grunt. "The specific meaning depends onthe context. It is the same with my signs."

"I understand," I said.

"Three days ago, or some three days ago," said Grunt, "a party of red savages,consisting of Kaiila, Yellow Knives, Sleen, Fleer and Kailiauk fell suddenlyupon a wagon train and a column of soldiers, both infantry and cavalry. Wagonswere burned. There was a massacre."

"I think I know the parties," I said. "The first left Kailiauk sometime before Ireached it. They were settlers. The second must have been the mercenaries ofAlfred, a captain, from Port Olni. He left Kailiauk shortly before we did."

Alfred, not stopping to trade, and moving swiftly, not slowed by a coffle ofslaves, had, it seemed, made contact with the settlers. Doubtless they wouldhave welcomed his presence. I wondered as to the fate of the settlers andsoldiers, and if any survived. Alfred had seemed to me as though he might be agood commander. He would not have been familiar, however, I speculated, with thewarfare of the Barrens. He had perhaps rated his red foes too lightly. He hadperhaps discounted their possible numbers or skills.

I thought of the squarish wagons, which had been with the soldiers, doubtlessconcealing the beasts of Sardak and Kog. There had been seventeen such wagons.

If these beasts had been destroyed I might, perhaps, consider leaving theBarrens. Zarendargar, then, would be safe, at least until another such forcemight be sent against him. Perhaps Priest-Kings, through their agents, mightmonitor towns such as Fort Haskins and Kailiauk.

I thought, too, briefly, of the red-savage youth, Urt, the red slave, supposedlya Dust Leg, who had been with the soldiers. If the red savages had found him inhis chains, fastened to a white man's wagon, they might have chosen, withamusement, to leave him there, to die. I thought, too, of the lofty, veiled LadyMira of Venna. No doubt now, she no longer wore her veils. I did not think thered savages would have killed her. There are better things to do with suchwomen. Doubtless she would have been stripped, a thong perhaps on her neck, andassessed as casually as a tethered kaiila. If her captors found her of interest,perhaps they would give her a chance, albeit perhaps only a slim one, to striveto save her life, by absolute and total submission, and pleasingness, as aslave.

I did not fail to note, incidentally, that several, often mutually hostiletribes, had cooperated in the attack, with its attendant destruction andkilling. The Memory, as it is called, and their hatred for the white man, hadtaken priority, as it commonly did, over their bloody and almost continuousintertribal differences. The red savages, I speculated, if they wished, withtheir numbers, and their unity, conjoined with an approximate technologicalparity in weapons, should be able to hold the Barrens indefinitely against whiteintrusion.

"It is a horrifying thing," said Grunt, almost numbly.

"Yes," I said. "What does this mean?" I asked. I placed my right hand against myheart, with the thumb and fingers pointing down and slightly cupped.

"Heart," said Grunt.

I then lowered my hand toward the ground. I had seen Corn Stalks do this, afterhis account of the battle, if battle it had been.

"The heart is on the ground," said Grunt "My heart is on the ground. I am sad."

I nodded.

"My heart, too," said Grunt, "is on the ground. I, too, am sad."

I nodded. "Do you think there were survivors?" I asked.

"In actions of this sort," said Grunt, "our friends of the plains are seldominclined to leave survivors, but perhaps they did, perhaps, say, some children,to be herded to Waniyanpi camps, to be raised with Waniyanpi values, suitablefor slaves, or, say, perhaps, some females whose exposed curvatures at theirfeet they might have found acceptable. Who knows? They are the victors. It woulddepend on their whim."

"What of a red slave of white men? I asked.

"Male or female?" asked Grunt.

"Male," I said.

"I do not think I would give much for his chances," said Grunt.

"I thought not," I said.

"We should perhaps turn back," mused Grunt I did not speak.

"It will be dangerous to move eastward now," he said. "The blood of the youngmen will be high. The killing lust may yet be with them."

"They have done, surely," I said, "what they purposed. They have enforced theirlaws, against both the innocent and the guilty. They will now be returning totheir tribal areas."

"Smaller parties can be more dangerous than larger parties, at such a time," said Grunt "The larger party has done its work and is returning to its home,presumably under the command of a blotanhunka, a war-party leader, usually afellow of mature and experienced judgment. He exerts control; he commandsrestraint. The smaller party may consist of young men, insufficientlydisciplined, urging one another on to yet another hazard or feat, fellows whoare unwilling for the fun to be over, fellows who are eager to try for yet onemore killing, fellows who wish to obtain yet one more trophy."