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Danhall was standing above them. ā€œI was too far away to hear what she was saying.ā€ Dikar hadnā€™t heard anyone come up, but Danhall and the other two were there. ā€œI shot her. I couldnā€™t hear what she was sayinā€™ to you, thought you were holdinā€™ your arrow because you couldnā€™t get a clear aim at her. I could, so I shot her. Can you forgive me, Dikar? Can you-?ā€

ā€œForgive you, Danhall?ā€ The words fell like stones from Dikarā€™s lips. ā€œYou didnā€™t knowā€”Sure, I forgive you for killinā€™ Marilee.ā€

ā€œKillinā€™ her!ā€ Bengreen exclaimed. ā€œBunk! Sheā€™s not killed. Look at the way sheā€™s bleedinā€™. Iā€™ve killed too many deer not to know bleedinā€™ stops when oneā€™s dead. Sheā€™s alive, you nuts, but she wonā€™t be alive long if you keep on sittinā€™ there, holdinā€™ her like a ninny anā€™ lettinā€™ her bleed.ā€

ā€œNot dead,ā€ Dikar whispered, staring down at the redness that welled out of Marileeā€™s side and ran down over his thighs. ā€œSheā€™s notā€”ā€

He could think again, could move again. He lifted Marilee across his arms, laid her gently down on a bed of soft moss near the foot of the tree out of which Danhall had shot her, knelt again.

ā€œFind me some of those leaves that stop bleedinā€™,ā€ he threw over his shoulder. ā€œQuick.ā€ He saw now that the arrow had gone deep in Marileeā€™s side, but its point had hit bone and so it had not gone in far enough to kill her, not even far enough for its barbs to be held except by a little skin. Dikar pulled the arrow out, flung it away. Blood spurted and he put his hands down on the wound, pressed.

ā€œLift hanā€™s up, you fella!ā€ a new voice ordered, hoarse and terrible. ā€œHurry befoh you get one big lot lead in you.ā€

Dikarā€™s hands were red with Marileeā€™s blood, but the bleeding had stopped and if he lifted them it would start again. He turned his head to say so, saw a great long gun pointing from out in the light, saw the black hands that held the gun, and the man against whose shoulder the hands held the gun.

The man stood straddle-legged out in the yellow field. He was dressed in dark green, and the little round things that held the green together were yellow bright in the fading light. His black face was flat-nosed and shiny, animal like. His thick, purplish lips snarled like those of a wildcat, just before it pounces on its prey.

Chapter VII: REFUGE

The brush rustled, a little way from Dikar, where Bengreen and Danhall and Henfield had been looking for the leaves Dikar needed. ā€œCome out you fella,ā€ the black man ordered. His big eyes, that had too much white in them, moved back and forth a little and his long gun moved back and forth. ā€œCome out fom dere.ā€

Dikarā€™s heart bumped his ribs. Neither eyes nor gun were moving quite to where he was. The black man hadnā€™t seen him! The black man was out there in the light but Dikar, bent down behind the tall brush that marked off the field and the woods, was in the deep shadow of the woods and so the man with the gun hadnā€™t seen Dikar at all.

Arms above his head, Bengreen came out in the field, and Henfield and Danhall came out beside him. ā€œStop dere,ā€ the man said, and the look on his black face, gaping at them, was funny. ā€œWat kind fella you are?ā€ the black gasped. ā€œWā€™ere your cloā€™es?ā€

ā€œWhat clothes?ā€ Bengreen asked, grinning. ā€œThis ainā€™t winter, is it?ā€ Dikar looked down at his hands. They were red with Marileeā€™s blood but she wasnā€™t bleeding any more. If he took his hands away she would start bleeding again, and she would die.

ā€œYou one fella tink you smart, huh?ā€ Dikar heard the black manā€™s hoarse voice, but Dikar was remembering what he had seen men like him do to white women, that dreadful day when he had been in this far land before. Better for Marilee to die than that. ā€œBut Jubal smarter,ā€ he heard. ā€œJubal know you ā€˜scape from one fella jail camp anā€™ take all cloā€™es off so if you get killed nobody know wat guards you pay to let you ā€˜scape. See? No use try fool Jubal. You tell Jubal were you come from, so Jubal get rewahd, anā€™ Jubal make fings easier foh you.ā€

Dikar took his hands away from the wound in Marileeā€™s side. ā€œA good sleep to you, Marilee,ā€ he whispered. ā€œA good night. Iā€™ll be with you soon.ā€

ā€œWā€™ere you come from?ā€ Jubal asked again, slow and hoarse, and there was something in his voice that made Dikar shiver. A gust of wind brought the smell of Jubal to Dikar, and that was worse than his voice.

Dikar pulled an arrow from his quiver, looked around for his bow. ā€œIf we told you,ā€ā€”the grin was still in Bengreenā€™s voiceā€”ā€œyou would know as much as we do.ā€ Dikar remembered that his bow was out there in the field, dropped there when he jumped to catch Marilee. The arrow was no good without the bow.

ā€œWā€™at you gonna know after Jubal blow you to little pieces witā€™ dis gun? Donā€™t fink Jubal, no do it. Tā€™ree more dead ā€˜Merican make no diffā€™rence, Jubal kill plenty already.ā€

ā€œGo ahead. Blow us to pieces anā€™ see if we care. I dare you, anā€™ doubleā€”ā€ Dikar didnā€™t hear the rest of what Bengreen was saying because Dikar had slithered silent as a snake, behind the great trunk of the tree. And now he was erect, was leaping high to the treeā€™s lowermost bough, was lying motionless along that bough while all about him was the rustle of leaves, loud and terrifying.

ā€œWā€™at dat,ā€ he heard Jubalā€™s shout. ā€œWā€™at dat in de tree?ā€ All of Dikar, inside him, pulled together, waiting for the thunder of Jubalā€™s gun, waiting for Jubalā€™s lead to tear through him, but he managed to make a sound through his rounded mouth, the ā€œkoooo-hoooā€ of an owl.

ā€œNothinā€™ but an owl, Jubal,ā€ Danball laughed. ā€œAinā€™t you ashamed, beinā€™ scared by an owl?ā€

Dikar slid along the bough, slowly, very slowly, very carefully, and now the treeā€™s leaves made no more sound than as if the wind were blowing through them.

ā€œJubal no scared,ā€ the blackā€™s voice came up to him. ā€œJubal not scared of notā€™inā€™, but you better be big fella scared of Jubal. You tell were you come from, befoh Jubal count five or Jubal shoot. One on end, with yella hair, first. All right. Oneā€”ā€

Dikar could see them now, through the leaves, the three Boys from the Mountain standing in a line, their arms over their beads, brown and naked except for their little aprons, Jubal, spraddle-legged, black and huge, his eyes small now, and red, his long gun butted against his green shoulder and pointing straight at Henfield.

ā€œTwoā€”ā€

The Boys were under the tip of the tree boughs, but Jubal was farther out in the field, seven paces at least. Dikar slid further out along the swaying bough.

ā€œThreeā€”ā€

Dikar was almost to the end of the bough, and it was bending with his weight. If Jubal looked up now, he would see Dikar, couldnā€™t help but see him.

ā€œFourā€”ā€

Dikar, gathering his legs under him, saw cords stand out on the back of the black hand whose finger was curled around the little thing on the gun that, pulled, would shoot it off. Jubal was going to say five now, and thenā€”

ā€œNo,ā€ Henfield screamed. ā€œDonā€™t shoot. Donā€™t shoot me. Iā€™ll tell. Weā€™re fromā€”ā€

Dikar leaped, the whip of the bough added to the lash of his muscles sending him out, far out over the heads of the Boys. He hurtled down, straight down on top of Jubal, pounding the black down. Thunder deafened Dikar but his hand slashed down, the arrow clenched in it, lifted and slashed down again on the heaving, screaming thing beneath him, and warm wetness spurted over Dikarā€™s hand and that which was beneath him heaved no longer.

Dikar was on his feet, and the Boys were around him, jabbering words he could not get. Dikar saw Henfieldā€™s face, eyes still wide, mouth still agape. Dikarā€™s hand lashed out, slapped, open-palmed, across Henfieldā€™s cheek.

ā€œYou yellow-belly,ā€ Dikar heard himself say. ā€œYou lousy yellow-belly,ā€ and then he was striding, stiff-legged, back to Marilee, was once more kneeling beside her.

Marilee lay on the green moss, terribly still and terribly white except where the blood was scarlet on her side and browning at the edges. Browning! The blood flowed no more out of Marileeā€™s wound. Sheā€™d stopped bleedingā€”

But Dikar saw the pale nostrils flutter, and he breathed again. Her wound, he saw, had closed of itself. That was why sheā€™d stopped bleeding. The wound wasnā€™t bad, Dikar saw now. Many of the Bunch had been hurt lots worse and none had diedā€¦

ā€œHereā€™s your bow, Dikar,ā€ Bengreen said, bending to him, ā€œAnā€™ Jubalā€™s gun.ā€ Dikar looked up.

ā€œYou keep the gun,ā€ he said, ā€œanā€™ take the Boys back to the Mountain. Go in the tops of the trees, that way youā€™ll leave no trail. It will be night very soon now, anā€™ you have a good chance to get back without their beinā€™ able to follow you.ā€

ā€œTo follow us!ā€ Bengreen exclaimed. ā€œWhat about you? What about Marilee?ā€

ā€œMarilee canā€™t be carried through the treetops,ā€ Dikar sat back on his haunches, ā€œwithout openinā€™ her wound, anā€™ so she will surely bleed to death on the way. If we make somethinā€™ on which to carry her along the ground, we will make so many signs that we would lead them straight to the Mountain. So Marilee must stay here. I will stay with her, but I promise you that if they come, they will not find either of us alive. Now go, Boys. The quicker you start, the better your chances. Go.ā€

Bengreen shook his head. ā€œNo, Dikar. We do not go without you anā€™ Marilee. But you are right about leavinā€™ a trail to the Mountain if we carry her, so we must stay here with you. I must stay, I should say. I have no right to speak for the others.ā€

ā€œYou speak also for me, Bengreen,ā€ Danhall said. ā€œI do not go back to the Bunch without you anā€™ Dikar and Marilee.ā€

ā€œI speak for myself.ā€ Henfield stood straight in the forest shadows that had grown so dark that he too, seemed a shadow. ā€œDikar! You slapped my face. You called me a yellow-belly. Did you have a gun pointinā€™ at you? Did you bear a voice count, ā€˜One, two, three, four,ā€™ very slow, anā€™ know that when it counted ā€˜five,ā€™ you would die?ā€

ā€œNo, Henfield.ā€

ā€œThen what right did you have to slap my face anā€™ call me a yellow-belly?ā€

ā€œI suppose I had no right, Henfield. I suppose I was no fair.ā€

ā€œYou had no right, Dikar, but you were right to call me that. I was a yellow-belly, but I am not, anā€™ never will be again. I looked death in the face, anā€™ I did not die, anā€™ I never again will be afraid to die. Dikar, will you let me stay with you anā€™ Bengreen anā€™ Danhall anā€™ Marilee? Because I want to. I want to very much.ā€

Dikar lifted to his feet, put his arm around Henfieldā€™s shoulder, and smiled. ā€œYou are no yellow-belly,ā€ he said, very quietly. ā€œBut I will not let you stay, anā€™ I will not let Bengreen or Danhall stay. The Bunch needs you three, anā€™ you can do nothinā€™ by stayinā€™ here. I am still your Boss, Boys, anā€™ I order you to go, anā€™ it is for the good of the Bunch that I order youā€”ā€ Dikar whirled to a rustle in the brush, saw that a formless shape blotched

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