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Explorer
955 Posts |
 Posted - September 25 2007 : 04:12:06 AM
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She wondered how long the crocodile would take to eat its fill. Would it then bask on the shore until the temperature fell enough as the sun sank that it would go elsewhere? Margurerite was desperate to recover her pack and spare rifle ammunition before any other dreadful creatures appeared that needed shooting.
There were other priorities, too. She was not pleased to think that some wandering Indian might see her here, nude save for her hat and boots. If that story got back to the Zanga village, she would be so humiliated that she could never go there again! With her luck, this would be the ideal time for her friends to find her, too. At least, they would content themselves with teasing her, or Challenger might repeatedly clear his throat in embarrassment, or Ned Malone would blush and ask if she thought she should walk around naked just because she was in a jungle. The other girls would giggle and recall this day when they wanted to embarrass her. Marguerite's dignity was important to her, and she needed her things.
She thought of shooting the crocodile with her revolver, but it was large, some 15 feet long, and weighed hundreds of pounds. If her bullets glanced off of the armored hide, it might charge and kill her. She knew that Roxton had said that these animals could run on land faster than a person, for short distance sprints!
Marguerite had about decided to just hide in the jungle until the crocodile left, when it growled some more, then seized a rear leg of the dead raptor. It rolled viciously, tearing the leg off. It bolted down the meat, then seized the other rear leg and began dragging the carcass toward the river. Of course! Reptiles like this stored dead animals under the water, in caves beneath the banks of the river, to let them decompose and become easier to tear apart. Their teeth were adapted to seizing animals, but not to chewing. They had to swallow chunks of meat whole! She could just hide and wait and the crocodile would swim off, and she could recover her belongings.
That is what eventually happened, although Marguerite waited a whole half hour after it left before she crept quickly down to the shore and grabbed her clothes and other items and ran for the brush.
Once there, she opened the pouch or purse and took out a box of .303 ammunition and reloaded her Lee-Enfield. That immediate need accomplished, she checked on her clothes. They were still damp, but were fairly dry. She decided to just wear them and let her body temperature finish drying them. She left the shirt hanging out of her skirt so that it would dry better.
The afternoon was still warm, almoat 90 degrees F, and there was a gentle breeze, so she anticipated that her shirt and lingerie would dry within an hour, as she walked.
They did, but evening was coming, and she still had no clue as to where she was! And she had left the remaining meat from the agouti in a tree that was now well behind her. She would be even hungrier tonight than last, unless she could discover something edible.
Roxton, where are you when I need you? she demanded, as if it was John's fault that she had decided to go home alone and had run into trouble. That was one wonderful thing about men, she knew. A woman could always blame her man for something that wasn't really his fault. It was a terrific way to avoid personal responsibility, and Marguerite smiled as she recalled how good she had been at that for most of her life.
"There is nothing quite so exhilarating as to be shot at without effect." Sir Winston Churchill |
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Explorer
955 Posts |
Posted - September 25 2007 : 4:28:18 PM
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She noticed as she walked that the breeze coming through her damp shirt cooled her. It was a delicious feeling, and cheered her somewhat. What she needed now was a good restaurant with a decent wine list. The devil with that, she thought. In my situation, I would settle for an ordinary pub or a fish and chips place.
She laughed at the idea of someday having Lord Roxton take her to a fish and chips house and having those dining with them unaware that she was the mate of a member of the nobility. Of course, the way that John would dress and speak would give them away: class differences were apparent. Still, it might be amusing to see the common folk look at them, knowing that they were rubbing shoulders with the peerage. By then, I shall be Lady Roxton, she rejoiced. A member of the peerage, myself! If I'm not a corpse in a South American jungle first...
She heard something coming ahead, and moved off of the small game trail that she was following. From a vantage point, she took out a Zeiss monocular from its leather case within her pack and focussed on the sound of the moving animal. Maybe a native, but it could be something worth shooting. Or staying hidden from...
She was startled to see a honey badger, sometmes called a ratel. They had found tracks that John said looked like this African species of mustelid, and had seen a few, but they weren't especially common here. Challenger was baffled as to why they would be in South America at all, but this Plateau was a law unto itself as to animal species. She watched as this one shuffled along, snorting occasionally as it tried to smell a bee's nest that it could raid.
Its fur and tough hide protected it well from bee stings, and it loved honey the way that she loved Roxton. If hunters followed a honey badger, and it knew they were there, it might lead them to a hive. But the men must leave chunks of the comb and honey for the badger, or the next time they followed, it would lead them to a snake. She remembered John telling tbis story, which he had heard on safari in Kenya, British East Africa. He thought that there might be some truth to it.
Marguerite wanted some honey, but she lacked the badger's protective hide, and she knew that repeated stinging by bees could kill a person. Challenger said that many people were allergic to bee venom, and that a single sting could kill a healthy man, in that case. If I find a hive, I'll pay some Zanga to get honey for me, she decided. If I can remember where the bloody hive is! Right now, all I can find is my own feet! And I have no idea where they're taking me. But I will follow that badger. Veronica will know some way to get the honey, if I find any. I'll just have to hope that this furry little bastard isn't leading me to a snake now. I seem to be able to find enough of those on my own!
"There is nothing quite so exhilarating as to be shot at without effect." Sir Winston Churchill |
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Explorer
955 Posts |
Posted - September 25 2007 : 4:58:40 PM
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Her wish for honey was short lived. The wind blew from her to the badger as it shifted position, and checked its back trail for scent of any animals that might be pursuing it. The mild wind currents here swirled enough that the breeze blew first one way, then the other.
When it scented, then heard her, the ratel flattened itself to the ground and made growling noises that made Marguerite's hair stand up on her neck. Roxton had mentioned the ferocity of these animals, and she had no desire to come closer. It had formidable teeth and long claws, which it used to dig, sometimes to look for termites to eat, sometimes to excavate a protective burrow.
"All right!", she called to the ratel. "Have things your own way! If you're going to be that inhospitable, I'll follow something else and pry into its private life. I don't need any honey, anyway. I'm sweet enough as it is, without eating any." And she flounced off, looking back to be sure that the honey badger didn't charge her.
Then, she smiled. When I get out of this, we will find some honey, and I will remember this and feel that I've won in the end, I suppose. Then, a mischievous thought crossed her mind. They did often have honey at the Treehouse, obtaining it through the Zanga, who knew where some hives were located, and how to cover themselves to avoid being stung. It seemed to affect them less, anyway, than it did white people. What she thought of now was to smear a little honey on strategic portions of her body and invite Roxton to lick it off. That thought sent a tingle through her and she shivered in anticipation. Damn it, she reflected. Now, I'm going to have my mind on John and bed when I should be looking out for snakes, centipedes, spiders, and other creatures that I really could be happy without!
Oh, John Roxton, come and find me, you brute! Do you truly love me half as much as I love you? If so, Finn is dead wrong about her and George having the love affair of the ages! No woman couid love her man more than I do John. If only I can find him again, I am going to make a total fool of myself and run and jump into his arms like Finn did to Challenger when we escaped from that miserable man Burton and his slaving thugs! (See, "Spirit Jaguar" in Fiction at: www.americanbty12.proboards62.com )
What if I DON'T find my friends? Oh, perish the thought! I must think positively. Maybe if I can find a clearing in this blasted jungle tonight, I can see enough stars to have an idea of where to travel...
She had been wearing her shirt open, to let it blow better in the mild breeze as it dried. She realized that it was dry now, buttoned it, and tucked it in. As she buckled her gun belt, she realized that she might have trouble greeting Roxton as Finny had Challenger, on that earlier occasion. The long skirt would probably preclude her leaping into his arms and wrapping her legs around his waist. Finn's brief shorts had let her do that far more easily.
Let her show off her superb legs better all the time, too. Bloody exhibitionist, thought Marguerite. Then, she wiped away a tear that had mysteriously slipped from her eye as she realized just how much she missed her blonde almost-sisters...
"There is nothing quite so exhilarating as to be shot at without effect." Sir Winston Churchill |
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Explorer
955 Posts |
Posted - September 27 2007 : 10:07:21 AM
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Finn and Veronica were in a good mood once they had gotten well clear of the Zanga village.
"Do you really think that we can trust Jacoba not to take us prisoner if we go back there again, Vee?" asked Finn. She was still shaken by the dour Indian monarch's unpredictable nature and overall power.
"Yes," answered her near-sister. "And, here's why, Finn: his daughter is one of my best friends and has been since we were kids together. She has a lot of influence on him. And Sa'eera is YOUR best friend there, and she sort of heroine worships you. She is his youngest wife and the one to whom he is most attached, other than the Great Wife. He doesn't want to upset her. And Xma'Klee is the second most powerful man in the tribe, and he has enormous influence with the people. Jacoba is also his cousin. And George and you have helped several Zanga who were sick and needed what George calls his antibiotic medications. You two have saved men who were mauled by jaguars and who were wounded in battle, too. You and he have a lot of friends, even if they regard you two as sort of supernatural, like they do Marguerite."
Finn laughed. "Yeah, good old Ma'Greet! I wonder what she and the boys did at home in the Treehouse last night? I bet they made her cook! On second thought, maybe not. That isn't exactly her strong point..." She looked mildly worried. "I hope that they cooked something good. I should have been there to take care of the Genius. I bet he got busy in the lab and forgot dinner unless Ned cooked."
Veronica snorted. "Nicole, really! George will live for a day or two without you to bring him things from the kitchen or to butter his bread. Gad, he's been doing that since he was a child! And Ned is a good cook, and John does fairly well. They survived, I'm sure. Not that they won't be glad to see us. Sometimes, I feel like I'm already a mommy, looking after those fellows." She laughed.
Finn grinned slyly. "But you like it, don't you, especially when Ned looks at you like he does, with his eyes telling you just how much he cares for you?"
Veronica blushed. "Yes, I admit it. I really love that guy. He's so sweet and he lets me be myself. Most men are more controlling. I couldn't be happy if he didn't let me have most of the freedom that I had before I committed to him. By the way, 'Sis', thanks for handing him this ring in Xochilenque and telling him to put it on my finger." Veronica flashed her diamond and emerald engagement ring, part of Ned's share of the vast treasure of that lost city.
"No problem," said Finn. "You treated me so well when I showed up at the Treehouse while you were away and then became my best friend...That was the least that I could do, to push shy Mr. Malone into proposing. You two should have been together far sooner. I don't know why both of you pretended otherwise."
Veronica smiled. "I guess that I was too busy being an untamed jungle beauty to admit that I needed a man, and the idea sort of scared me, too. I want my marriage to last; I want to know that I'm marrying a man as good as the one whom my mother married."
"Aren't you?," said a surprised Finn."He's a little goofy at times, but Ned is a good guy, and he's definitely the one who was calling your name in his dreams."
"You think so?", blushed Veronica. "I shudder to think what I must have been doing in his dreams when he called my name, then." She laughed and Finn joined her.
"Probably the same things that all men think of us doing to them,or for them. Their fantasies are predictable, most of the time. If they aren't TOO kinky..." She colored, embarrassed. "Like I should talk. I'm the kinky one in our bed. As you found out, I sort of like it when I can get George to really take charge of me. It turns me on when he does that. Sometimes, anyway. I like traditional lovemaking, too, of course. But I got George out of the lab and into a love affair that I truly believe is one of the hottest, ever. I don't just say that to tease you and Marguerite about your own love lives. Oh, Vee! I miss George so much, and it's just been a day and a night! I think I have it 'bad' for him!"
Veronica smiled. "Could be, Finn. If you aren't really 'stuck' on that man, you're the best actress that I ever hope to see!" She laughed. "Oops, watch it, Finn: there's an eyelash viper on that branch just to your right. A green one. Better move off to the left some until we're past it."
"I see it, Vee." Finn and Veronica walked wide of the snake, just off of the trail now.
"Hey! Aren't these Marguerite's boot prints?" Finn had noticed some footprints that looked familiar.
Veronica knelt and studied the prints, separating the grass some to see better. "Sure. I guess she had to leave the trail, too. May have seen the same snake that we just did."
Finn had wandered ahead, watching the ground. "Hey, Vee! Look at this. These are from a big theropod, and Marguerite's prints are mixed in here with them. I think they were here at about the same time.
Do you think it chased her?"
Veronica studied the sign more carefully, ranging wider. "It damned sure did, Finn! Look at this! These tracks are obviously from a dinosaur chasing her. See how its footprints superimpose over hers?
That's an Allosaurus, about 25 feet long! We'd better search until we find out what really happened here. Oh, I hope she got away. Marguerite can be a pill at times, but she has improved a lot, and I love her like she was one of us. Hell, she IS one of us!"
Both women were white-faced now, terrified that something had happened to their friend.
"There is nothing quite so exhilarating as to be shot at without effect." Sir Winston Churchill |
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Explorer
955 Posts |
Posted - September 28 2007 : 08:55:41 AM
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They soon lost the trail on stony ground, but saw vultures circling over something. Above, pterodactyls hovered. They were waiting for something to die or for some predator to leave so that they could feed on the remains of its meal.
"Finn, take that binocular that you're always admiring and get up a tree, fast, and see if you can tell what those scavengers are interested in. If it's Marguerite and she's hurt, we need to help her, fast."
Finn nodded, shrugged off her pack, got out her Zeiss 8X30, and climbed a low, sloping tree from which she could get into the branches of a taller one.
She setttled where she could sit safely and scanned the area. Soon, she saw something move, and was able to make out the leg of a dinosaur being agitated. Whatever had hold of it was obscured by jungle from her angle of view, but the victim clearly wasn't Marguerite. Finn sighed in relief, and called out her joy to Veronica.
"Well, thank goodness for major favors," the other woman replied. "While you're up there, look around and see if you can locate her."
"I'm already on that, Vee. I'm not as dumb as Marguerite says we blondes are. I'm looking everywhere there's enough clear ground that I might see her. Hey! I don't see her, but guess who I found! It's George and John, and they're coming this way! They're in that big open spot about three hundred yards long that comes not too far before the turnoff to the swimming pool on the river."
"Can you signal them?" Veronica wanted to know. "We want to be sure they come here and don't go off to one side or the other."
I'll try," said Finn. "Give me the steel mirror from my pack." She caught it as Veronica tossed it up and stood, aiming at the Treehouse men through a small hole in the center of the mirror.
She flashed a number of times before Roxton saw the light winking and pointed it out to Challenger. The latter had his binocular out and looked to see what was causing the flashes. He immediately recognized Finn, and she stood, waving. She blew him a kiss, and Challenger chuckled and waved back.
"Someone must have been hurt, and they have been looking for us," Roxton decided. "George, we'd better get over there straightaway. Good thing that you packed first aid supplies. Did you see Marguerite?" He looked worn and anxious.
"I'm sorry, John. There was just Finn, waving and blowing a kiss when she saw us. She made motions for us to come there, and pointed down. I suppose that someone is lying down there, needing help. How long will it take us to get there, do you suppose?"
"It's just over a quarter mile," mused Roxton. "Let me take a compass bearing, and we'll set a course via a short cut. We can shave over ten minutes off our arrival time, maybe more."
The men were soon underway, deeply concerned about Veronica and Marguerite, as Finn had seemed well in Challenger's binocular. He prayed a silent thanks, afraid to insult or hurt Roxton by being vocally thankful that Finn was all right when Marguerite or Veronica might not be.
"There is nothing quite so exhilarating as to be shot at without effect." Sir Winston Churchill |
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Explorer
955 Posts |
Posted - September 28 2007 : 09:50:26 AM
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"They're coming," Finn announced. "I'll stay up here a little while so that I can guide them in when they get close. They're over a quarter mile off, but they were gesturing that they were taking a short cut. Johnny was fooling with his compass. Guess that he wants to set a bearing so that they don't get lost when they go through the jungle."
"Okay, swell," Veronica said. Then, a thought struck her. "Finn, this means that Marguerite probably never reached home, and that means that the boys don't know that we stayed in the village. They aren't going to be thrilled that we let her leave on her own, especially John. I hate to think what we're going to say if she's been hurt, let alone killed!"
"No kidding," muttered her friend. "Vee, there's another matter, too. I've been thinking about this, and I wonder if the men are going to be unhappy that we danced for someone other than our own guys, in the Treehouse. You know how jealous men are of their women. They may not like the idea that the Zanga warriors were gawking at us, even if their women were there, some of them, anyway. Maybe we'd better carefully not mention that we did that. George thinks it's not a good idea to be too familiar with the Zanga, anyway. It's best if white people keep a little mystery about ourselves. You know?"
"I know. He's compassionate, but a typical British gentleman of the upper classes. The Zanga will always be 'natives' to him. You may be right. Ned can be a little jealous. It's one thing to gyrate our butts in front of the other guys at home, but outside of our improvised little family, they're probably quite particular about who sees us. Ned loves it when I dance for him in that little ocelet hide loincloth that Cuauhtemoc made me wear in Xochilenque, but he makes me wear a little more when we girls perform for everyone, not just in our own room. You didn't help matters when you told him about those pole dancers in your century, by the way. Did you really do that?"
Finn blushed scarlet. "Give it a rest, Vee. I'm embarrassed about that. I just did it for a couple of weeks, when I needed money really bad. The other girl that I was with then got us that job through a guy she knew who owned a bar, and we didn't do any more than dance. I didn't like it, and when we heard that we were going to have to do more than dance, we split. That means, we stood not upon the order of our going, but went! Forthwith! But it was kind of cool to know that I could get men so interested in looking at me. It was an ego boost when I needed one. And the bar owner saw that we got fed well. In that time, that was a good deal."
Veronica knew that the phrase about not standing upon the order of their going sounded familiar. Then, she recalled the scene in Shakespeare's, "MacBeth", where Lady MacBeth had told their dinner guests that her husband was taken ill, and that they would have to leave, not in the order of their social rank, just to go.
Vee softened as she remembered Challenger reading this play to Finn, just as the young girl was learning to read fairly well. Shakespeare was too difficult for her to follow, so Challenger had read it to her in the living room at night, Finn sitting next to him, listening raptly and asking questions and learning new words and about life in medieval Scotland. She had loved the tragic, dramatic plot and the characters, and she sometimes quoted from the play or from, "Julius Caesar", another favorite.
Veronica realized that this was from the time when Finn and Challenger had begun the deeper part of the bonding that had led them to love one another. One night, Veronica had entered the room, to find Finn sitting on his lap, her arm around him, following the words in the book as he read from it. It had been a very tender scene, and Veronica had slipped out of the room without disturbing them. Another time, she had found them asleep, Finn curled in his lap, their tired bodies embracing. A few days later, they had begun openly sleeping together, at first to everyone's astonishment and some shock. Now they were so close that it was hard to picture one of them without the other by his or her side. Veronica felt warmed by the closeness between this loving couple, and hoped that she and Ned would always be that important to one another.
"So, you'd dance in this place, reluctantly, but no more? Did a lot of girls do that in your time? Dance in bars like that?"
"Yeah, Vee, they did. There are only so many things that men will definitely pay for in hard times. Beer and ice cream, of course. Gasoline for their beloved cars. Movies like those that you thought Ned was too interested in when I told about them. Dancers. But when the bar owner wanted us to offer something that I wasn't interested in selling, like I said, we split."
"Finn, you're right: Ned might get fussy if we tell about the Zanga dance thing, so lets' just say that we spent the night with our friends, because we stayed too late shopping." Veronica was feeling rather self concious about that now, and she wondered how prissy Ned might get.
"Agreed," said Finn, and smiled. "What the boys don't know won't hurt us. But I may confess to George later, in a few weeks. I don't like keeping secrets from him, but this isn't the best time to admit what we did. It'll be better to tell him later, after we find Marguerite and the boys have finished scolding us for staying when she left."
"There is nothing quite so exhilarating as to be shot at without effect." Sir Winston Churchill |
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Explorer
955 Posts |
Posted - September 29 2007 : 02:50:03 AM
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They waited until Finn saw the men coming, within a hundred yards. She handed down her mirror and binocular to Veronica and carefully slid down the tree, releasing the lowest branch when she was about five feet above the ground.
"Vee" and Finn had barely gathered their things and begun walking to meet the men when they appeared.
Roxton, of course, immediately saw that Marguerite was not with the other two women and asked why. "Is she hurt?", he demanded, worry clearly etched on his features.
"We, ah, really don't know," admitted Veronica. "Didn't she come home yesterday?"
Told that she indeed had not reached the Treehouse, the two blondes admitted what had happened, saying that they had urged Marguerite to stay the night with them. "But we weren't going to stay, except that she said that she'd tell you where we were, and why. We did want to stay with Assai and Sa'eera and Jacoba told Assai to tell us that our presence was especially requested at a dinner party that he was giving. We need to get along with him, so we figured this was something that we'd better do. And Marguerite was very persuasive about being able to get back to you on her own. Gosh, I've gotten around in this jungle since I was just eleven!"
"You aren't Marguerite," Roxton pointed out sternly. "You know that she hasn't got your background in surviving here!" His heat was evident, his concern suffusing his face with rage.
"Johnny, we messed up. We admit it. Vee and I have been scared silly since we found her tracks about an hour ago and tried to find her. We are definitely at fault in this, and later you guys, especially John, can give us hell about this. We deserve it. But now, we need to find Marguerite. She may be lost and injured!"
Roxton tried to control his fury. Finn was right, and being angry wasn't going to find his woman.
"John, sit down. Relax if you can. Finn, Veronica, just where did you see these tracks? Was she limping? You know how to read sign to tell?" Challenger was almost as distraught as was Roxton. He was very fond of Marguerite and loved their occasional after dinner talks as Finn and Roxton cleaned guns in the next room.
The girls told all, and the foursome decided to follow the tracks as best they could, sometimes going up a tree to scan the area. Nothing else made much sense.
"Johnny, we are both so sorry about this!", exclaimed Finn. "Vee and I just goofed. We really thought that Marguerite just had to follow the trail and stay out of trouble. I could do that."
"Finn, you are my usual hunting companion, and you soak up jungle lore like the proverbial sponge. Marguerite absorbs only what she thinks she has to. Her preferred domain is a big city with lots of shopping and elegant restaurants. Here, she just gets by when she's on her own. There's no real comparison. You know that!" Roxton was still angry.
A thought occurred to Finn. "Oh, George, this really isn't the right time for this, but I got you something at the Zanga bazaar. I thought you might know who this little guy is." Finn dug into her pack and took out the cloth wrapped jade figurine.
Challenger accepted it with the look of disappointment on his face changing to curiosity and pleasure as he registered that his woman had thought of him and had selected this gift for him.
"This is an Aztec god, I'm almost certain. I think Tlaloc, their rain god, although I can check references back at the Treehouse." He ran his hands over the six inch -tall object, savoring the superb workmanship, the savage design, the implacable features of the Mexican deity. The jade was of very high quality, rare and valuable in Europe or the USA. "Darling, this is simply splendid! How can I thank you enough?"
"You could start with a hug," said Finn shyly. "Oh, George, I love you so much! I'm so sorry to have made a fool of myself and let Marguerite take off like that by herself. I should have known better. And this reflects on you because I'm yours. Johnny, if she ever tries that again, Vee and I will insist on going with her. Really. We both feel awful about this." Finn looked so apologetic and stressed that even Roxton felt some sympathy for her and her companion.
"Lets' just hope that we find Marguerite alive and that there is no next time for anything like this," Roxton growled.
"Let me put this wonderful little statue in my pack, and we had better get underway and find Marguerite," said Challenger. He put away the gift and pulled Finn to him and kissed her and hugged her tenderly. She responded with fervor, relieved that he would still want to hold her after seeing the look on his and on Roxton's faces when they learned what had happened. But she saw not just acceptance in Challenger's face, but also the usual love and kindness.
"When you two are finished saying hello to one another, we do need to go," muttered an anxious Veronica.
Challenger gave Finn a last squeeze and they separated.
Five minutes later, they were following Marguerite's boot prints and hoping for the best, if fearing the worst.
"There is nothing quite so exhilarating as to be shot at without effect." Sir Winston Churchill |
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Explorer
955 Posts |
Posted - September 29 2007 : 4:34:41 PM
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After several minutes, Roxton gruffly said to Finn and Veronica, "Ladies, I'm sorry that I have been a bit rough in my judgement of you. I realize that Marguerite is strong-willed, and I am not sure that you could have prevented her going on her own, had you tried."
"Johnny, I feel just awful. We could have left with her, even if it did upset Jacoba. But we did need to try to keep him happy. We have to deal often with the Zanga, and Sa'eera and Assai both told us that he would be very offended if we hadn't stayed. He was pretty grumpy that Marguerite left. He especially wanted her to join us."
"Why?" demanded a suspicious Roxton.
Veronica answered. "John, he likes her and thinks that she has special powers. It gives him prestige if she favors him with her presence at his table. And Xma'Klee respects her, too. He probably wanted to talk about recent psychic visions or something. The Great Wife had a special meal prepared for us. It would have been rude to refuse her hospitality."
"Are you sure that he didn't just want her to dance for him, as well as to train his wives to dance better?" Roxton knew the male mind, and this thought naturally occurred to him. "What did he want her to wear, if anything?" He wore an angry look that alarmed the two women.
"Uh," stammered Finn. "Johnny, I didn't hear anything about him asking her to dance. Anyway, she left before we even had dinner. She didn't dance for anyone, Jacoba included. Two of his wives and some of their friends did dance for us after we ate, but Marguerite was long gone by then!"
She realized that she had better change the subject, fast. "Did you know that Marguerite helped me pick out that statuette, George? I mean, I found it and decided on it. I know you best. But she told me that it was a good choice, and she bargained with the guy who was selling those things. But she thought it might be Mayan instead of Aztec."
"I'm almost certain it is of this Tlaloc rain god, the Aztec deity," replied Challenger. "Whether Mayan or Aztec or of an even earlier tribe, I wish that we knew how it got here. Mexico is a long ways off."
"Genius, it isn't an original, as far as I know. This guy selling it was making those things. He had several others. We got it for a few iron needles and one of those trade knives that you make, Johnny. The tradesman must have seen how high quaity even your simpler knives are."
Roxton thanked her for the compliment, but suspected that there was something that the girls were withholding. He resolved to get it out of them later, especially if Marguerite had been harmed or killed.
"For now, I just want to find Marguerite. We can talk about the Zanga later." Roxton shifted his .416 Rigby from his hand to his shoulder., The rifle was heavy and the trail was long. But one had to have a powerful rifle in case of dinosaur attack, and even then, the bullets had to be precisely aimed, or they would have little effect on such large animals. The deer rifles that they often carried would kill a dinosaur, but required even greater precision. They were mainly used to hunt deer and wild pig for food, or for protection against men. Marguerite's .303 was such a rifle, and Roxton worried that she might not have been able to stop a T-rex or some other large theropod in time...
"There is nothing quite so exhilarating as to be shot at without effect." Sir Winston Churchill |
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Explorer
955 Posts |
Posted - September 29 2007 : 4:52:56 PM
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Challenger and Roxton were sobered by the sight of the allosaur tracks imposed over Marguerite's boot marks.
"This doesn't look good at all, " muttered Roxton.
They resolved to follow the tracks, dreading what they might find. Roxton promised himself to have a long talk with Marguerite about her daring and what risks she had run in trying to travel on her own. But first, he had to find her, alive!
They soon realized that she had killed one Allosaurus. Its huge body had been picked almost clean of meat by another allosaur, and by various scavengers. A flurry of vultures rose and fluttered off as the armed humans approached. Veronica shot one reluctant bird through the body with an arrow, and the rest scampered away, although most went no further than nearby trees.
Roxton and Challenger examined the remains of the dead dinosaur. They knew where Marguerite might have been able to kill it quickly, and Roxton found her bullet in a neck vertebrae. He dug it out with the point of his Bowie knife and turned it thoughtfully in his hand. This might be the last momento that he would have of her. ..
"There is nothing quite so exhilarating as to be shot at without effect." Sir Winston Churchill |
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Explorer
955 Posts |
Posted - September 30 2007 : 12:28:52 AM
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"It's noon. Where is that bloody waiter with my lunch?" Marguerite Krux complained mentally. If only fantasy would indeed fetch me my lunch...
She was seriously hungry, and had eaten the few items that she had with her. She wished now that she had found a way to transport the meat from the agouti shot the day before, but had been afraid that carrying the remains of the animal would attract predators. And she had no intention of getting blood on her clothes. Those in which she had arrived and had packed on the balloon were mostly threadbare now, and she was grateful that Veronica had allowed them to use her mother's sewing machine to copy them. And her hostess's loom had created suitable cloth for that replacement. Other cloth from the Zanga had added variety, and Challenger's genius had combined with smooth cloth to produce a satin-like material that was excelllent for lingerie. He had even contrived a very good substitute for elastic. But she was still cautious of staining her favorite blouses and skirts, as any woman would be. So, the meat had been left behind.
Now, she considered her options. She had seen Roxton make and set snares for small animals. She recalled an occasion on which she had walked up on the Gun People, when John and Finn were debating how to make and set snares. Marguerite had made a sarcastic joke, and the other two had looked at her like she was an outside heckler. She hated those times when the Gun People were bonding and she felt left out, although they usually tried to include her in their conversations...
Now, she wished desperately that she had paid attention. She searched her pack and person for the means of making a snare and found nothing really suitable. She could cut off a strip of cloth and twist it, but was loath to ruin her shirt or skirt, and didn't know if the idea would work. Wouldn't she need stiffer material? Maybe some sort of bark or a slim twig that could be tied in a loop?
I swear that I am going to make the Gun People and Veronica show me how to make and set snares if God grants me the grace to ever find them again. I am becoming truly afraid that I may be hopeessly lost and never see them again. They are my family, or the closest thing that I will ever have to one! John IS my family, I suppose, as we are engaged. I love that man more than I had thought it possible to love a human being! Especially for ME to love someone...I have come so far since we landed on this accursed Plateau. To die now, after all that I have gained, is too cruel a fate. But Fate IS so often cruel.
I am not going to cooperate in my death. If I can think of a way to get food, I am going to get it. I wish that I had worn a camisole instead of a bra. Finn had a great idea about those for uplifting and separating my treasures of the bosom, and I normally prefer bras now. But when you want to slice one up to get cloth to use as a fishline, they don't offer much. And I really don't want to ruin my blouse.
Hmmm...the bra does at least have an underwire that I can maybe use to make a hook. Wait! I do remember John showing Finn how to make a hook called a "gorge". All that one needs is a piece of bone or wood that can be sharpened at each end, with a hole or groove in the middle, to retain the thingee. Bait can be any meat that I can find, even a big grasshopper. The fish in these rivers aren't shy about biting.
She noticed a skeleton of some dead animal off to the left, and wandered over to it. This might provide a piece of bone. But she felt it and realized that it was old and dried out. The bone might break, although it wasn't ancient enough to turn to dust as she pried at it.
Wood, then. She scouted around and decided to break a slim stick off of a tree. This done, she sat on a bouider and reached into her boot for the switchblade knife. She flicked the blade open and cut the stick into three pieces and sharpened the ends of each and grooved the middle. Now, she had hooks. But what to use for line? And bait? She could rummage around and find a fallen branch suitable for a pole.
As she sat motionless, thinking, she saw a flurry of wings in the jungle and several of the brightly colored pheasants that resembled those from Asia settled near her. They strutted around and began to feed in the grass, probably looking for seeds.
Marguerite knew that the force of a rifle bullet would blast one of these birds into bits, leaving little or no edible meat. But if she waited until one passed before her, she might be able to shoot into the ground near it and kill it or stun it with a shower of stones and dirt clods. That should parallel the concept of shooting beneath a squirrel in a tree, "barking" it like Ned Malone had said that American pioneers had done in their wilderness.
Or, maybe she could shoot one with her .38. If she could aim that carefully...The birds would probably fly as soon as she moved. She might not have time to draw the Smith & Wesson and cock it, easing off a shot at just the right instant to hit the bird fatally without ruining too much meat. She had seen Roxton shoot a pheasant out of the air with a .45 once, on a bet from Malone, but her skills in that realm were lacking. They flew fast, sometmes flaring off to the side. There were good reasons why they were normally hunted with shotguns, not pistols! But she had no gunbearer to summon with a shotgun.
Anguishing over the low remaining supply of rifle ammunition, she decided to shoot at a rock when a bird got near it, maybe killing the pheasant with stone chips.
In time, a few birds fed over in that dirction, and finally, one was so close that she gave the theory a try.
Lifting her sporting version of the Lee-Enfield quickly, she fired as the birds began ro rise. To her surprise, the shot dropped not one bird, but two!
Marguerite ran over quickly and smashed one wounded bird's head with the heel of her boot. The other was fluttering around, dazed, and bleeding from stone chips and debris from a stick that was on the ground where the .303 bullet had struck. She had seen Roxton and Finn behead wounded birds with a flick from the blades of their Bowie knives. Could she do that with her switchblade dagger?
The first stroke missed, and the bird fluttered away. In a moment, it would recover from the shock of the near miss with the bullet and fly! She seized the long tail and as the bird reached back to bite her, Marguerite slashed again with the sharp knife. This time she connected, and the slash contained all of the hunger and desperation that haunted her. She was amazed to see the bird's head fly off.
It began jerking furiously, if without any purpose. Blood flew from the neck, over her clothes. She shrieked and dropped the dying bird.
Pouring water from her canteen onto her handkerchief, she dabbed at the blood spots on her skirt and boots and got most of it out of the cloth. The leather boots wiped clean, of course. Maybe I can dye the skirt darker brown and hide the flecks of blood that I can't get out, she hoped. If I ever get back to the Treehouse and get Veronica to help me dye it.
Finally, the birds lay still and she found a small branch and used a fork of it to draw the intestines, which she had seen done on pheasant shoots in England and in Germany as well as seeing the men from her present "family" do it.
She gathered twigs and small, dry branches and built a fire on rocky ground that had no grass to burn. The last thing that she needed was a forest fire!
Marguerite plucked one bird, working fast as her hunger grew. She saved the tail feathers, thinking that they would look jaunty on her hat. And they might be used to make fishing lures.
Finally, she cut a green stick and impaled the fowl on it and watched it cook, turning it as it roasted. She was ravenous, not just hungry, and woe betide any predator that sought to frighten her away and steal her meal! The rifle was ready at hand if that happened.
She ate greedily, savoring each bite that filled her stomach and gave her strength.
"There is nothing quite so exhilarating as to be shot at without effect." Sir Winston Churchill |
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Explorer
955 Posts |
Posted - October 04 2007 : 09:17:08 AM
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The other Treehouse dwellers stayed doggedly on the trail. They lost it several times, then cast around until they found Marguerite's tracks again. They retraced much of her route, but gave up at last when she had wandered onto hard ground where they were unable to decipher a spoor.
Roxton was frustrated by this, for he had learned to track elephant on hard ground, and had hunted oryx in dry areas, and generally been able to find tracks or other "sign." . Now, he could not, and his love for Marguerite and his inabiity to find her made him short tempered and terse.
Veronica snapped back at him once, and it was evident that something needed to be done. Finn took Challenger aside and spoke softly to him, and Challenger soon sidled over to Roxton and put a hand on his shoulder. "John, Old Boy, this is devlish hard work, and we are momentarily stymied. I feel sure that we will soon have better luck, but I propose that we stop and brew tea. I need a break, and Finn said that she and Veronica are also tired." He omitted to mention that Finn had suggested that they try to get Roxton to sit and take tea and defuse the stress that was consuming him...
"I don't need a damned break", barked Veronica. "I'm as tough as Roxton and I say we stay with this until we find her!" Veronica was still angry. Just when defusing was needed, she was ready to ignite an emotional powder charge.
Finn caught her eye and shook her head slightly: no, don't be this way!
Roxton had excellent peripheral vision, and he caught this gesture from the corner of his eye. He was on the verge of saying something tart and to the point when his sense kicked into gear and he realized that tempers were already too worn for further risk.
"Veronica, please rest with us. I am so emtionally wrung out that I think that George's suggestion is a good one. I apologize for what I said a few minutes ago. I have been beside myself with worry for Marguerite. It wasn't really your fault that she left alone and got lost. I shouldn't be blaming you. I am just furious that this happened. Marguerite should have known better." And so should you, Madam, he thought, but decided to let her off the hook. Both girls must be feeling considerable guilt already.
Veronica turned to snap at him, but paused as she saw his expression. Roxton was trying to make amends, and the least she could do was to try. "All right, John. Maybe you're right. But I'm not that much into tea. Have we got any coffee?"
"Indeed we have," spoke Challenger. "We were careful to pack some, thinking that Marguerite would want it if she was injured or had been caring for one of you. We have enough for several servings. Lets' find a safe, comfortable place to sit and build a small fire."
And so they did, and whether they sipped tea or coffee, they soon felt much refreshed. Challenger and Roxton also had packed some dried meat and bread, and Veronica wandered over to some wild grapes and picked enough for them. This served as an emergency lunch, and all felt better for the time they took to eat and to reflect on their options.
"There is nothing quite so exhilarating as to be shot at without effect." Sir Winston Churchill |
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Explorer
955 Posts |
Posted - October 04 2007 : 8:07:32 PM
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As they ate, Veronica shook her canteen and asked how much water they all had left. All responded that they needed to seek safe water soon. Finn had been especially thirsty, and had given some of her supply, as they all had, to make the hot drinks. Even with extra canteens carried in case the missing women had needed fluids, they had used more than they liked. The day was warm, and replenishment would soon be required. Finn's bottle was lowest, and she expressed concern.
Veronica looked around and saw some of the water-bearing vines growing in nearby trees. She announced that she would climb a slanting tree trunk and use that tree to get into others if they would pass canteens up to her on a stick.
The Challengers agreed to clean up, which used a little additional water, and Roxton and Veronica walked over to the trees. Roxton drew his machete and chopped a stick strong enough to hold the filled canteens in a fork on the end, and Veronica shinnied up the accessible trunk and into a nearby tree. She left her bow and quiver of arrows with Roxton, letting her move with much more certainty in the trees.
She carefully made her way over to one of the vines, but had to withdraw and start over when she spied an Emerald Tree Boa coiled on a branch. It reared up, hissing loudly, opening its mouth and exposing the formidable teeth. This snake wasn't venomous, but had the ability to deliver a nasty bite, and the backward curving teeth were hard to dislodge. If she was bitten or wrapped in its deadly constrictor's embrace up here, it would be hard to rescue her.
She worked her way over to a different tree, and Roxton passed up a canteen on the stick. Veronica drew her belt knife, a Bowie style much like Finn's, and also made by Roxton, who had learned his skills from a former Master Cutler from Sheffield who had worked as a blacksmith and general metal worker on his parents' estate at Avebury. As a lad, Roxton had been fascinated with studying how to make edged tools and weapons, and with a forge, anvil, and good materials, he could craft exquisite knives that looked much as if they had come from the best makers in Sheffield or Solingen.
He was also familiar with non-British knives from the better companies in America and Germany, and had suggested the Marble's Ideal pattern with a six-inch blade when Veronica had asked for a knife similar to that which he had given to Finn. They had wanted a stag antler handle, but the local deer didn't grow antlers of large enough diameter and the right quality for that. So, they had used aged dinosaur bone found in a cavern, and shaped it to look just as if the knife had come from the Marble's factory in Gladstone, Michigan, USA. The guard and a slightly convex butt cap were fashioned from nickle silver, and he had used several slim silver spacers with alternating slices of dark wood near the guard. The clip top of the blade had been honed for a backward slash in a fight and to allow easier penetration. Veronica loved the knife, and had been wearing it in a finely tooled leather sheath on a belt since she had gotten it three months before.
Now, she thrust the knife into a thick vine. After letting it leak a bit to dislodge any insects or other debris, she drained the vine into the canteen and passed it back down to Roxton. The water wasn't the best tasting, but they needed it, badly.
Challenger glanced over to this proceeding and told Finn that they needed to accelerate their efforts to create a new tablet that could be used to purify water found in the wild.
"We need to make some more iodine, too", she reminded him. This was used to purify water, also. It was more effective in the tropics than halazone tablets.
They packed their cleaned utensils and Finn walked over to assist Roxton. Challenger sat atop a tall rock and began scanning a valley below with his binocular. He spotted a scorpion creeping toward him and smashed it with another rock. "Bloody place!," he growled. This Plateau was fascinating, but he longed to discover a way to get them to England and to settle affairs with Jessie and take up lawful, wedded life with Finn. He could not yet know that Jessie was already dead of flu before he and Finn had even met...George Challenger was an unknowing widower.
All started as a shot rang out, drifting up from the jungle, not far from the nearby river that eventually ran fairly close to the Treehouse.
"Was that what I think it was?" Veronica called down from a branch where she was filling the fourth of their canteens.
"It damned sure was!", exclaimed Roxton. "Lets' finish here and go see if that was Marguerite. Unless some of the Zanga are hunting with those Mausers they got from Burton's people, it pretty well has to be her, and she may be in trouble!"
"There is nothing quite so exhilarating as to be shot at without effect." Sir Winston Churchill |
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Explorer
955 Posts |
Posted - October 06 2007 : 2:12:07 PM
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After she ate, Marguerite wandered, finding some berries. She ate them, recognizing them as safe, but they were not really very filling. She drank some more of her precious supply of water.
She looked for other vines that she might pierce to get more water, but saw none that were low enough to reach. Veronica, being more athletic, might climb that high in those trees, but Marguerite was afraid that she would slip and fall, even if she took off her boots.
She swore and continued to look up periodically as she walked, hoping for lower vines.
She did find a tree that was called the blood sap tree, for its smooth trunk was easily cut with a knife and yielded a dark red sap that could be used to dress wounds, preventing infection. She had a small cut and two scratches from brush, and she drew her switchblade knife and slashed the bark of a tree and got some of the sap on her hands. She washed out these wounds before they could become infected in the tropical heat and humidity. She felt better for this, as if she still had some power to determine her fate.
She carried the second dead pheasant by a length of line made by splitting and twisting a certain kind of tough grass. She had learned this from Veronica, and found herself very pleased that she had remembered the technique. Survivor Susie, that's me, she smirked. England conquers all!
She took off her brown hat and wiped her brow. The tree sap was still a little sticky on her hands, and she was loath to use her valuable water to wash. Marguerite found some sand by the river's edge and used it to clean her hands, brushing them off on her khaki skirt.
Wary now of the river, she retreated far enough from the shore that she wouldn't be caught easily if a crocodile or a caiman was lurking near the bank.
Wandering further in the jungle, she came across some ancient stone ruins. Always fascinated by these, she entered the ruins of one temple or town hall, or whatever it had been. She went out for a stick of wood that could serve as a torch and started a small fire to light it. She left it burning to cook the other pheasant when she grew hungry that night. The temple could serve as shelter and protection from predators. She would have built the fire inside, but the roof was solid, and the smoke would have choked her.
Inspecting the walls, she found incised writing that indicated that this was once a place of worship for a tribe now long gone.
She turned, only to run into a spider's web. Marguerite recoiled in horror, few things frightening her more than spiders! She saw one creeping toward her, and quickly incinerated it with the torch.
Shuddering, she burned two other webs. Was this a safe place to stay that night, after all? The spiders here were often deadly poisonous, and Challenger had no remedy for their bites.
She went out again and saw that all was quiet. She was far enough from the river that nothing living there was likely to come this far inland and try to eat her. She longed to bask in luxury by the Thames, after a picnic lunch wth Roxton, fearing nothing but the excitement that he could rouse in her loins by playing artfully with her body. These tropical rivers were far different from the Thames. And only the foolish and the dead forgot that...
Marguerite looked at the sun. Still high. She had nothing better to do, and she wanted to cool off and get some sun all over. She stripped to her panties and spread her blanket over a low, flat rock near the ruined temple. She kept her guns near, and resolved to open her eyes and look around often. Her ears should also warn her if anything approached. Soon, she was all but dozing in the afternoon sun, the jungle sounds being music to her ears.
"There is nothing quite so exhilarating as to be shot at without effect." Sir Winston Churchill |
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Explorer
955 Posts |
Posted - October 06 2007 : 3:56:23 PM
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Jarl, husband of Assai, was hunting with another man. They had killed a spider monkey and were returning to their village when they saw the explorers.
They selected a clearing where all could identify each other rather than being mistaken for enemies.
When the whites approached, Jarl stepped out and showed himself.
He was warmly greeted by Veronica, who had known him since childhood, and now as the man of her best Indian friend.
The Zanga men bragged about their kill, Jarl explaining in pidgin English how his friend had killed the monkey with his blowgun from a considerable distance. Roxton listened, and congratulated the hunter on his kill.Personally, he avoided monkey meat. Cultural issues. He thought that a skinned monkey looked too human for his tastes.
Jarl looked at Veronica and said, "I see you and Woman Who Kills dance last night. You dance well, Veronica. Jacoba much pleased. You do that more often, I give you arm of this monkey!" He smiled, enjoying the reaction that he thought the offer would produce in Finn and the men. He was aware of some of their cultural differences.
"Eh?", demanded Challenger. "Veronica, what is this about you two dancing for Jacoba? Was anyone else but he and Jarl present? What were you two wearing, if I may ask? "
Finn blushed and she and Veronica stumbled over one anothers' words. Veronica explained what had happened,and why. She replied to Roxton's repetition of Challenger's question about their attire by admitting that it had been little, about what they wore in the Treehouse for dances there. Once the sarongs came off to be twirled, they had been in less than most white women wore even at home alone with their mates. The loincloths were trimmed slim enough that she avoided mentioning just how bare she and Finn had been in those and the trim halter tops.
Roxton looked doubtful, and asked whether Ned had known in advance that they would dance for the Zanga king. Had he approved this?
No, admitted the blonde girls. "It was sort of spur of the moment, Genius," stammered Finn. "He sort of sprang that on us after it was too late to leave, and the Great Wife had already planned the ceremony. But Assai and Sa'eera and two other Royal wives danced, too, and some other girls. It wasn't just Vee and me."
"And some of the senior warriors who attended had their wives and daughters, too," explained Veronica. "It wasn't like we only danced for men." She was blushing, as was Finn. They looked at one another and giggled self conciously.
"I was going to tell you later, George," Finn said shyly. "I was too embarrassed to do that today. But we didn't take everything off, and other women were there, like Vee said. They liked it, and looked to learn how they could do that, too. And it bought us some good will from Jacoba, which can always come in handy when needed."
Roxton was still suspicious. "And you ladies waited to take off your clothes and wiggle for the Zanga men until well after Marguerite left? She wasn't part of this exhibition?"
"No, John, she was long gone by then," Veronica said, a little testily now. "I'll confess to Ned later, and I hope that he will understand. And ALL we did was dance. Now, if you fellows have had your dose of scandal for today, can we please get back to finding Marguerite?"
Jarl showed concern. "Ma'Greet not here? Where she go?" He had learned some English from his wife and Veronica, but was far from proficient.
They explained what had happened, and Jarl and the other hunter said that they would take the monkey home and return with other warriors to help seek the missing British woman.
"We find her, you girls and she dance more?" Jarl was amused now, knowing that his revelation of the performance had irritated the white men.
"Perhaps another time", Challenger said, a little tautly. "Finn, we will discuss this when we get home. I am not at all sure that I approve of that little demonstration of your talents."
"Yes, George," said Finn meekly. She was already thinking of how to cool his anger. Probably, he would calm somewhat by the time that they were talking privately at home. If he was still simmering with jealousy, she would offer to be spanked and swear not to again dance outside the Treehouse without getting his prior approval. She half hoped that he would spank her to dispel his resentment. That excited her, and often led to other, very intimate actions...and would get this out of his system.
They agreed on an area that the Zanga would search, and the explorers bade Jarl and his friend goodbye, saying that if either group found Marguerite, drum signals would be sent. With Veronica back with them, the whites could tell what was being transmitted by the drums, and she could reply with the big drum in the Treehouse.
They parted, with the Zanga promising to send help as soon as they had reached their village. As the explorers continued on their way, Finn made a point of walking next to her man, using her eyes to show contrition and admiration. She knew George Challenger well, and this might satisfy him. He couldn't stay mad at her for long, and seldom was inclined to even raise his voice to her. Their love was very real and very deep, and neither was inclined to hurt the other. But Finn thought that if she played her cards right and told him that she felt really guilty and that she would feel better if he punished her for this indiscretion, he might still spank her. That could be fun. And she probably really shouldn't have danced for other men while wearing so little. It could change the way they thought of white women. But, she smiled secretly, it had been so cool to see how they looked at her, admiration and desire evident on their faces. And the women had also given either admiring or jealous looks. Finn had felt very female and very alive. She really didn't feel too bad about having danced, but she did feel guilty that it bothered Challenger. But maybe she also felt a little smug that he was jealous. That felt good! If he didn't care, that would worry her more than maybe being punished for embarrassing her man and their friends. She liked feeling responsible to him for her actions. It made her more his. And being "all his" with George Challenger was what made Finn feel all woman and all happy about it! She smiled now, thinking of how she was lonely no longer, and secure in belonging to one of history's greatest men.
"What the devil are you smiling about, Nicole?," growled Challenger. "Do you find this funny?"
"No, Genius," she said, and snuggled quickly against him. "I'm just thinking of how glad I am to be back with you. I missed you pretty badly last night."
He relented and hugged her to his side, then leaned over and kissed her upturned face.
She was delighted that he was so affectionate. But she might have to work at it now to get that spanking...
Veronica and Roxton looked at one another and smiled. Roxton shook his head admiringly at the ease with which his friends had seemingly settled their issues over the dancing. Veronica rolled her eyes dramatically, and Roxton actually laughed. He hoped that she and Ned could as easily resolve their own controversy when Ned heard of this. He was more likely to be really angry, and Veronica might have to endure his lectures and sulking for awhile. Sometimes, Veronica thought, I wish that Ned would just spank me like George does Finn, and not hold grudges for so long. Not that that arouses me like it does her, but I'd definitely go over his knee if it would clear the air between us. But he's usually too considerate to paddle my butt when I upset him. Thankfully, we have very few quarrels, compared to most married people. Gad. Married. Well, we are, in all but name. I can't wait to see a priest or judge somewhere someday and get whatever rings he gives me on my finger. Independent as I am, I very much like being Mrs. Ned Malone. Who would have thought it a couple of years ago? Now, what will I tell him about that dance? It had better be good...
And they pressed on until the time came that they had heard the shot.
"There is nothing quite so exhilarating as to be shot at without effect." Sir Winston Churchill |
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Explorer
955 Posts |
Posted - October 06 2007 : 6:11:09 PM
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Four men of the Wariru tribe were hunting on Zanga lands. They had to be careful, for the Zanga would kill them if they were found. But being able to hunt there and bring home a good kill would give them prestige in the eyes of their fellow braves. Sometimes, young Wariru men were sent onto Zanga land to do just this, as a rite of passage into the warrior society. Officially, their tribes were at an armed truce, with neither supposed to violate the lands of the other. Jacoba enforced this, but the Wariru chief looked the other way, as long as his men caused no open warfare and proved their gallantry.
One now climbed a tree to scout the terrain. He spied Marguerite, almost nude, stretched out near the temple ruins. Excited, he descended to tell his fellows. They walked rapidly to some tall rocks, where all could see this.
Along the way, he told them that this girl was one of the pale skinned ones of whom he had heard.
Another recalled that in his father's day, a yellow-haired white woman had been sold to a friend of his father by the slavers who had captured her. She was from a tribe called Hagens. She had told her new master that this was because her people had once come from a land where the capital was some place called Den Haague.
The girl was beautiful, worth her high price, and once she had learned her place, was obedient and served well. The man who owned her was proud of her, and he was envied by others.
This warrior thought that this pale girl sunning herself near the ruins might be a Hagen. Or, she could be a Brazilian. He had heard of Brazilians, although few reached the Plateau. Some were said to be this light in color. And her hair was the right hue to be from that race.
Atop the tall rocks, they carefully viewed Marguerite, speaking softly because they were barely 150 yards away. They resolved to take her. She was clearly not Zanga, so Jacoba probably wouldn't be incensed that she was taken. He might not even know of her. And she was sleeping. She would be bound and leashed, ready to be led away, before she knew what was happening.
But to whom would she belong? There were four of them! The man who first saw her tried to claim her, saying that he would capture her by himself if the others would lay no claim to her. They, in turn, insisted that all should share. Either they would sell her and split the profit, or all must share in her ownership, rotating her between their huts, perhaps on a weekly basis. "I do not wish to have to wait a whole month for my turn to have her," said one. "Weekly rotation is better."
They all agreed, one demurring because he was married, and sharing Marguerite would just cause trouble in his hut. "But she can serve me food and drink and I will admire her as I visit each of you while she serves you who will own her. It will be a great 'coup' to possess this pale woman. She seems comely from here. Let us go and get her. There is no man present."
"Be cautious," admonished another. "We must move softly, or she will wake and flee. She may hide well in this jungle."
As they conferred, a pterodactyl passed over, and its shadow fell on Marguerite. She opened her eyes, and saw it glide past and was uneasy. This one was big enough that it might attack, especially if she lay there looking like she might be dead. Many pterodactyls were scavengers, and she had no wish to feel its teeth.
Grumbling at being so disturbed, she pulled on her boots and fastened her bra. She put on her hat and drank from her canteen, shaking it. Only about a third full now. She would soon HAVE to find a source of water.
She shrugged into her blouse and reached for her skirt. Something moved at the corner of her vision and she looked up to see three men walking toward her. She hastily buttoned her skirt and donned her revolver. She lifted the rifle and called out to them. "Who are you? Whence come you? I do not know your people."
They paused and looked at her. The leader said, "We are Wariru. We are brave warriors who conqueor all that we encounter. You should be honored to belong to us. You are ours now. Take off those strange clothes again and kneel. We will be kind to you if you surrender. Where is your man? Women such as you do not go long without being chosen by a man of your kind. You are too pretty to be lonely. Is he dead? Killed by Zanga?"
"He is very much alive and looking for me now, I'm sure. He and my other friends should be here at any moment." She blessed her ability to speak almost any language, and these men spoke a tongue not too dissimilar from that of the Zanga.
"I belong to only one man, who is called Lord John Roxton. He is a mighty warrior and a noble of our people. You must not speak thus to me. He is jealous of me, and will kill you if you offend him. Let us instead be at peace. Where do you come from? Are you friends of the Zanga? I am a friend of their paramount king, Jacoba."
They looked at one another. Now, they would not only be getting a desirable female; they could wound Jacoba, whom they wished their own chief would make war on.
"Female, you will know where we come from when we take you there. We have agreed that we will share your ownership. Obey, and you will be well treated and exhibited to all of our friends, that they may admire you as our possession. Now, submit! You must learn prompt obedience."
"I don't really think so," she replied heatedly. "I told you: I already have a man, to whom I am faithful. I am pledged to be his wife. I will defend myself if you keep coming. Stop now, and we will talk. But you must not try to take me, or I will fight. You will die. This does not have to happen if you will be friends with me."
The leader of the strange Indians smirked. "Woman, I tire of telling you what you must do to avoid being punished. I do not fear you, a mere girl. Do as you are told, or feel my whip!" And he led the other two straight at her.
"Wait!" shouted Marguerite. "I have a weapon of great magic. I can kill at a distance. Look at that tree with the coconuts. See what happens!"
They looked where she pointed and even the fourth man, who was sneaking around in the jungle to catch her if she ran, looked. What idiocy was this? Did this fool woman not realize that they could not be bluffed?
Marguerite lifted the .303 and fired at a large coconut. It exploded and the sound of the shot shocked the Indians, as did the result of the bullet striking the coconut.
And that shot carried further afield, to be heard by Marguerite's friends, who recognized gunfire for what it was. They now had some idea of where to look for her!
"There is nothing quite so exhilarating as to be shot at without effect." Sir Winston Churchill |
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Explorer
955 Posts |
Posted - October 07 2007 : 4:34:45 PM
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The Indians stood stunned, then the boldest ran directly at Marguerite, raising his spear. She swung up the rifle and dropped him with the shot making a nasty exit wound, she having used a softpoint hunting bullet.
Then, a dart from a blowgun flashed past her ear and lodged in the rotting wooden frame to the door of the temple.
Marguerite dashed back into the temple, firing a second shot to distract the enemy as she went. It hit no one, but did make the Indians take cover for a moment. That gave her time to reload and to impress on them that she was well armed and behind cover in her stone refuge. They would be wise to leave, taking their dead friend, and she said so.
"Pale female!", screamed the leader. "You have slain our companion. For that, you will suffer. Surrender now, and I will make you feel pain, but in an hour or two, it will fade. I do not wish to mark you, that you may be more impressive when you return to our village as my slave. But if you do not disrobe and come out with your hands high, we will punish you further when we take you! Beware! I have spoken!"
"You have spoken, all right," she retorted. "Be careful that it is not the final time that you will speak in this life! I warned you: I am meant for the pleasure of one man alone, and you are not him! Leave while you may! My friends will hear my shots and come to my aid. You will die!" She hoped that this was true. Maybe there was some faint hope that her shooting really would be heard by her companions.
"Woman, you cannot last for long in there. You have not much water. The day is hot, and you will thirst. Throw out your clothes and crawl out to me. Beg prettily, and perhaps I will not whip you too hard!"
The smugness in his voice enraged Marguerite, but she held her fire, planning to make each cartridge count. It was true that she would soon need water. If she didn't get some, she might pass out that night, and they could surprise her and take her easily. And she did not relish a night in here with so many spiders. She lifted the torch, which still burned, and incinerated another spider and its web. What could she do? She thought desperately.
The man who had been trying to get behind her saw that she was trapped in the temple and came around to the right side of it. Now, she had enemies on each side. This man told her that he could easily gather brush and throw it inside, on fire. "The smoke will drive you out, white girl! Submit now!"
"Let me think!, "Marguerite screamed. "I am only a woman, and much is at stake! I must have some time to know what is best!" How much time this might earn was a good question, but anything at all would be in her favor.
"There is nothing quite so exhilarating as to be shot at without effect." Sir Winston Churchill |
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Explorer
955 Posts |
Posted - October 07 2007 : 5:28:56 PM
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The Indian leader thought, then said, "White female! I hear your call. You may have until I have clucked my tongue slowly for one hundred times. Then, you must come out and offer yourself for my binding rope. It is soft, and will feel good on your wrists." He laughed. "Leave your strange weapons and your clothes in there. I will get them later. I wish to study your odd weapons. I will begin to cluck my tongue now. My friend will count the clucks. Do you hear?"
"Will you count for two hundred clucks?" Marguerite was on the verge of nervous laughter. What an absurd situation, and this idiot, primitive savage did not even know how to measure time with a watch! He had to cluck his infernal tongue, which he loved to wag at her. But what difference if he had worn a watch and given her one or two minutes by it? Same result. And he was right: without water, she could not last forever. Her friends had no idea where she was. And there were probably more Indians coming soon.
"I will count for one hundred clucks, then for fifty more. After that, you will have exhausted my patience. Even a woman should be able to make up her mind in that time! You really have no choice. Kill another of us, and you will die when we take you, slowly and painfully. I will start to cluck now!"
"Well, cluck slowly! I am not giving up if I can see any hope, and I think fast, actually." She did laugh now, the sound of her laughter scaring her. What real choice did she have? Would they let her keep her boots on? Maybe Roxton would find the tracks and follow...
"Wait! " she called. "Stop counting for a moment. I have a question. May I wear my boots as you lead me to your village? My feet are tender. I am not an Indian. I am different, with softer feet." Thin reed of hope, there, Marguerite. How much time did that buy? Ten seconds?
He laughed. "Girl, how are you called by your race? You amuse me. "
"My name is Marguerite. What about my boots? If my feet are bleeding I will not look good or move well at the end of your leash when you take me before your people!"
"Very well, I will think on this. But leave the boots inside the temple until after you have been examined and we have whipped you for the death of our friend. You will suffer more punishment later, but first, we will take you home." He had begun to wonder if the loud noises made by her weapon might attract Zanga scouts. He could not linger for long.
"I am afraid to be leashed! What if I stumble and fall, and break my neck? You said that you would leash me!"
"Ma'Greet! Stop interrupting me. I will begin my clucking anew. But when I am done, you must say that you are ready to come out. Do not fear my leash. You make a good point. I will leash you by the waist, after tying your hands behind you and then, to your waist. The end of the rope can then be your leash. Your neck will not be in danger. I want you as a live prisoner and slave, not a dead one."
"Ah, how long a leash? Can I wear my hat? The sun is warm." This was becoming ridiculous. She looked all over the room, hoping against hope for a secret door. She felt along the walls, using the torch, pressing anywhere that might become an unseen opening to an escape passage.
"Ma'Greet! You will wear nothing except for your bonds. Maybe later, I will grant you your hat and boots for most of the journey. But you must be bare when I lead you into my village, as is proper for a slave girl being led home by her master. Later, you will be allowed to dress in some of what our women wear, after all have seen you. If you please me, you may later have some small clothing, for much of the time. Your own clothes will be be exhibited to those who come to admire my catch. Then, we will burn them as you watch. Your weapons will be used by me or given to my chief, that I may have his great favor. Now, no more talk! I will commence clucking. Remember, you have no hope at all, save as my prisoner!"
"There is nothing quite so exhilarating as to be shot at without effect." Sir Winston Churchill |
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Explorer
955 Posts |
Posted - October 07 2007 : 6:08:49 PM
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Veronica looked up sharply as Marguerite fired the rifle as she ran for the temple entrance, to take refuge there.
"Was that a second shot?", she asked Roxton.
"It damned well was! Veronica, hurry and finish draining that vine into the canteen, then, we will go with what water we have gotten. We need to see who is shooting at what!"
Soon, the explorers were underway toward the sound of the shots, which Challenger had pretty well determined from his perch atop the rocks. But he had seen no one.
After several hundred yards, they came to a rise of ground, topped by a lookout station of some forgotten tribe. It had decayed, but a foothold at the top was possible for a slim person.
Roxton sent Finn up the tower, and she soon saw the temple, with the Indians shouting something to someone inside. Then, for an instant, she saw into the shadows within the temple as Marguerite moved across her vision. The binocular let her see deeper into the interior of the structure than she could have done with the naked eye.She also saw a dead Indian near the temple.
Urgently, Finn called out her discovery to those below.
"What do the Indians look like?", asked Veronica. "They surely aren't Zanga?!"
"No, Vee. They have some blue fringe stuff on their knees and blue and yellow macaw feathers in their hair. Their loincloths seem blue, and they have blue paint on one side of their faces, I think. It's hard to be sure at this distance."
"Wariru!", exclaimed Veronica. "They must have sneaked onto Zanga lands. They do that sometimes, in spite of a treaty not to. And they're after Marguerite?"
"Yes! I think she shot one that I see looking dead, but another is on top of this temple thing getting brush together. I think he's about to smoke her out. And two others are waiting outside with a bow and what I think is a blowgun!"
"Can you get a shot at them?" demanded Roxton. He offered Finn her rifle.
She accepted the Mannlicher-Schoenauer. "I think so, Johnny. The distance is maybe 250 yards. But I can knock that jerk off of the temple roof. He's in good sight, and a tall target if my aim is a little high or low." She lowered the Zeiss binocular and snugged the butt of the rifle into her shoulder socket.
"Well, give us a few seconds to get under cover and we are going to rush over there. George, come on! Veronica, wait for Finn to fire three shots to kill as many as she can, then you girls follow us! Maybe we can even get close enough for Veronica to use her bow!"
"You're just thinking of Agincourt again," accused Veronica, trying to pretend to be funny, when she was really very frightened for her friend. "You Limeys love that! Or, am I supposed to be a merry maid in Robin Hood's band of thieves?"
"I don't care which bloody role you want to play, just get some arrows into the right people, if George and I don't kill them all before you ladies arrive!" And Roxton left his pack by the watchtower and followed Challenger, already moving toward the old temple.
"There is nothing quite so exhilarating as to be shot at without effect." Sir Winston Churchill |
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Explorer
955 Posts |
Posted - October 07 2007 : 6:58:44 PM
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Within the temple, Marguerite was about at her wit's end.
"Stop!," she shouted. "Quit clucking your tongue for a moment. Look, if I give up, will one of you at least carry my purse to your village? All of my cosmetics and my brush and comb and mirror are in it! Don't you want me to put on makeup and brush my hair before you take me into your village? I look awful without my hair done, really, I do!"
"Woman...," warned the Wiriru spokesman.
"After I apply makeup and lipstick and comb my hair, you can tie me again and put your leash on my neck, if there isn't any uneven ground before we'd get there. I think I'd look best with the leash on my neck, don't you? Should I put my hair in a ponytail, or would it look better if I leave it loose? A girl wants to make a good first impression when her master leads her home, you know. We white women are very vain, you see." But what I DON'T see is a way out of this, she reluctantly concluded. She could hear the man on the roof, and she guessed what he was doing.
"Ma'Greet, time is up. Will you surrender, or must we throw burning brush in there? My friend is making a fire now to burn the wood. If you refuse to come out, you will be punished more, both here and in our village. I will give you to our women to taunt. They resent foreign females. As long as they do not permanently injure you, they can punish you as they will. You will be greatly humiliated, before men, as well as before other females! If you harm another of us, you will not live for long, and your passing will be painful! No more talk!"
"All right!" Marguerite had reached a decision. Maybe Roxton would find her boot prints someday and guess where she had been taken, IF they let her put on her boots again..."Don't shoot any darts or arrows in here. I'm starting to strip now. I'll be out in a moment."
"If this is a trick..", warned the Wariru man.
"No, no, no tricks! I wish to be treated as well as you will treat me, and to become your favorite girl someday." It beats dying here, she reasoned. And maybe I can escape once I know where I am, and there is still an outside hope that Veronica or John can find and follow my trail. She set down her rifle,and unbuckled her gunbelt, laying it on the floor beside the rifle.
Slipping off her skirt, she called, "Should I place my hands on my head, or just raise them? I'm undressing now, I swear that I am! PLEASE don't shoot any darts in here! I HATE poison darts!"
The man laughed and exchanged looks with his friend, who lowered his blowgun.
Then, she heard a sound that she recognized. A shot in the distance followed a nasty, hollow, smacking sound as a bullet made contact with flesh. The man on the roof screamed, and she saw him fall past the entrance, clutching his chest!
Marguerite threw her blouse aside and grabbed the rifle. She was about to go back on her word to the Wariru leader, but what the hell: didn't a girl have a right to change her mind?!
"There is nothing quite so exhilarating as to be shot at without effect." Sir Winston Churchill |
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Explorer
955 Posts |
Posted - October 08 2007 : 03:55:25 AM
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Marguerite cocked the rifle, expecting the Wariru men to charge in. Then, it struck her that if she fired the .303 in this enclosed space, her ears would ring for days, and she might have permanently impaired hearing. She set it down and pulled the .38 from its holster. This would also be loud, but not as bad, and it would be easier to manipulate than a rifle in close quarters.
What was happening out there? It was quiet for a moment, then she saw one Indian go over to his friend and look to see what had killed him. He raised his head, a look of black rage suffusing his features. "Ma'Greet, you do this? How?"
"I told you: I have friends looking for me. You must flee now to avoid being killed. Go quickly, that you may live!"
THe man's next sentence was never uttered. Another shot rang out, and he was violently propelled forward. Blood shot from his stomach, and he screamed as he collapsed. The sound of the shot reached her ears a second later. It sounded like Finn's litle 6.5mm, and probably was. It was too light for Roxton's rifles, unless maybe he had brought a .275 Rigby. He was a superb shot, but sometimes gave the long range jobs to Finn, as she had learned very well from him and was a cool and careful markswoman. If the shot had to be taken from a tree, she could climb better than he could, where higher branches supported her lower weight better.
She heard running feet as the remaining Indian fled and stepped out. The one who had just fallen looked at her, anger and surprise on his face. He was bleeding badly and looked as if he might be going into shock.
Marguerite stepped over to him, said, "I told you this would happen," and shot him him between the eyes.
She swung up the Smith & Wesson and fired two shots at the running man, who turned and launched an arrow that nearly struck her. That jolted her to awareness of the need to shoot well. She cocked the hammer with her thumb and stood in a target shooter's stance, the gun held out at the end of her arm, the sight picture right, releasing a portion of her breath before holding it, and squeezing the trigger as the sights rested between his shoulder blades.
The .38 fired, and the man went down, a bullet in his leg. He twisted, trying to launch a second arrow from his awkward position, lifting his head to see her. Before she could shoot again, the report of a heavy rifle rocked the jungle afternoon and the man jerked violently and collapsed, dead.
"I expect that shot broke both of his shoulders, and the impact may have broken his neck," said George Challenger. He opened the breech of his .450 Nitro Express Holland & Holland elephant gun and dropped a new cartridge into the barrel which had just ejected the empty brass case.
"George! Where did you come from? Where is Roxton?" Marguerite was just able to stop herself from crying, so great was her relief on seeing Prof. Challenger and his trusty rifle.
"I'm here, Marguerite!," called the tall hunter, striding from a copse of trees. His rifle was ready, and he asked if there were more Indians.
"No, John, just these four, I think. But more may be nearby. Oh, Lord Roxton, I am so glad to see you!" And she ran to him and almost jumped into his arms.
"There is nothing quite so exhilarating as to be shot at without effect." Sir Winston Churchill |
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On Her Own
