some day to use in making his way back to his home
city, the headquarters of Atta’s own present-day over-
lords.
This piece of information inspired considerable interest
in me, and for several nights thereafter Atta and I talked
of little else when we were alone. To my disappointment,
however, Atta finally said that he placed little confidence
in either the information or the informant. In fact, he
viewed the fellow with decided skepticism. He himself
had often been in Fusa, he said, and the class of cutters
to which Subser belonged was both stupid and limited.
He had never heard of one able to do anything more
than cut, let alone memorize landmarks and act as guide
across a trackless and illimitable country.
To this judgment I had no good answer, and, rather
unwillingly, I let the subject drop for the time being.
Then one night it occurred to me to question Subser more
closely on the route he professed to remember. And after
much difficulty and the use of endless pebbles as markers
I extracted from him the unexpected fact that the route
as he remembered it lay almost precisely in the direction
of our abandoned home. In fact, he said, our great valley
was one of his landmarks; it must be kept on the right
during what would be an ascent of some difficult uplands,
from which one turned right again in a southeasterly direction once one had reached the top of the mountains.
This description startled even Atta, with its promise
that we might once more see our gnarled stronghold, its
Fabrans and aphids, and possibly Trotta; and the anxiety
thus aroused in me over their fate had much to do with
my eventual persuasion of Atta at least to sound out
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our new acquaintance on the possibility of making a
break for freedom and, if he agreed, to attempt it.
At any rate he did consent at long last—except in fighting, one of Atta’s outstanding characteristics was his prudence—and, Subser gradually agreeing, we spent many days thereafter hoarding up mushrooms in a closet that
Atta dug in our quarters and in other ways preparing to
meet what we now considered a certainty.
There still remained, however, the question I have already mentioned: that of getting my lance outside the gates—for I was obstinately determined to take it with
me—and here, it occurred to me, we could both test Subse ts loyalty to us and at the same time, if all went well, cache my invaluable weapon against the day of our departure. So I thought, at all events, and so it eventually happened. I drilled Subser for several evenings against
a possible questioning by some Rubicundian. Eventually
he brought the lance through the corridors without mishap, I cached it in a safe place beyond the castle dump, and there for several days it stayed hidden in safety
against the moment when I should need it.
All that remained was to choose' the proper moment
for our actual escape, and this proved exceedingly simple.
Just before dawn one damp, cold morning all three of
us picked up our special burdens and in the darkness
emerged cautiously from our dungeonlike chamber and
stole swiftly up the long sleepy corridors. No one saw
us, no one challenged us. Only at the gate itself was
there anyone stirring. Here four sentinels kept a desultory watch, drugged with cold and the sense of security that sharp autumn nights bring. One of them saw us
and sleepily stepped forward to intercept us while the
others stared at us without moving.
It was the crucial moment, and there was no sense in
parleying. I did not hesitate. I was in the van, and just as
the poor fellow stepped forward I drew my hatchet from
my belt and struck him on the head without warning. He
went down like a stone, and after that it was easy. My
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two comrades, as if galvanized, suddenly lost their fear
of the authority he represented in their eyes; there was
a rush forward, two minutes of sharp work at the narrow
entrance itself, and then we were outside in the cool
dawn air—and free! Behind us were four dead Rubicun-
dian sentinels and not a soul to give the alarm. I led
Atta and Subser to the spot where the lance was cached,
we recovered it, Subser took it in charge, Atta lifted me
and my burdens into a good traveling position, and with
my rough map in my hands I took one look at the slowly
reddening horizon and gave the order to proceed.
After that I was the leader of the expedition that I had
myself conceived. As Atta told me later, the mere lifting
of my ax upon a sentinel that morning had shown him
and Subser that even the dreaded law of the Rubicun-
dians was a dead letter when confronted with resolute
will and firm purpose. With one stroke I had not only
killed a gateway guard, but had also cut the bonds of
that ingrained obedience that hitherto had appeared to
them as the condition of their existence.
All this, however, Atta told me much later. That morning all I knew was that he was carrying me swiftly along the winding path up which we had come as captives,
that I kept the sun carefully in position at every change
in direction, and that long before night we had reached
our beloved old home. Not only was it still standing, but
to my delight Trotta rushed out of the woods at our approach and after some kind words and an offering of mushrooms approached and let me stroke her. Once I
had her safely in the paddock, I spent all of two hours
refurbishing her tom bridle and watersoaked saddle.
This necessary chore done, I was all for resuming our
journey. It was an even chance, I felt, that the Rubicun-
dians were already in fast pursuit of us, the dead sentinels being a fatal advertisement of our departure. But my companions demurred. It was nearly twilight, and
the coldness of the night was beginning to affect them
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so strongly that they could scarcely set one leg in front
of another. To offset this—it is a weakness from which
all Formicans apparently suffer—I was driven to an experiment that I had often wished to make, and that now seemed decidedly called for: in brief, to make a fire.
When I was a boy I had played Indian enough to
learn how to dispense with matches in the woods by the
somewhat laborious process of rapidly twirling a pointed
stick in the hollow of a dry log until the friction produced
enough heat to kindle dry wood. A sharp stick of hardwood is necessary, as well as a flexible string or cord to make the stick revolve swiftly. I had the cord in the
string of my bow, and in the upper room of our house
there were still a few pieces of dry wood as well as a
number of pointed shafts that I had discarded when
making arrows. One of these I took, wound the string of
my bow about its middle, and, setting the pointed end
in a depression cut in a small piece of timber, began
spinning it by moving the bow itself back and forth
across it.
It was some time before the process yielded any result, but after a while one or two sparks appeared, and then a
dull red glow that I fed with bits of thistledown
from my old bed, and soon I had a small cheerful fire
blazing in the open garden before our house. Its warmth
soon restored Atta and Subser, although at first they
were unwilling to believe that I had produced the blaze.
On my assurance that there was nothing to fear and that
I could produce such warmth whenever it became necessary, they at length consented to start out, even though by this time it was quite dark. I mounted Trotta, adding
my small piece of timber to her burdens, and after a
long look at the familiar place that had so long sheltered
us we set forth.
For perhaps an hour, along the path that we already
knew very well, we traveled through the jungle, which,
now that summer was over, was dry and brittle and
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rattled and clashed in the cold wind. But the darkness
impeded us, and as soon as the effect of the fire began to
wear off my companions began to lag again. At last I
gave up the attempt to get a commanding lead on our
pursuers, and once more we stopped and rested until
morning. It is odd that the Formican, so hardy in every
other respect, should so easily succumb to a degree of
cold that would scarcely inconvenience a man. To that
circumstance, I suppose, we owed our eventual escape
beyond the Rubicundian frontiers. For even Atta was
quite incapable of moving after an hour’s exposure to
the chill of a cold fall night, and I doubt if we could have
pursued our long journey at all if I had not been able to
build an occasional fire to get us warm enough to push
on. This ability our pursuers lacked, and in all likelihood
they ceased to follow us as soon as we had gone beyond
the extreme limits of one day’s journey.
We had plenty of food, for Atta had reinforced our
supply by gathering more mushrooms in the almost
choked cellar of our old home. We were able to get an
early morning start—usually before sunrise—by simply
throwing fuel on the fire’s embers and starting up a comfortable blaze. Thus we had little difficulty in following Subser’s route with a respectable speed that soon carried
us past the cliffs and the valley, up the rough, tangled uplands, and finally over the mountain and down toward Fusa.
It was about noon on the fourth day that Subser, who
had rather importantly assumed the lead, turned in great
excitement to point out what he said was the track of a
party of his own people and announced that we must now
be within a few hours’ march of the city itself. Sure
enough, a little later we came in sight of a low range of
mesahke hills along a stream that Subser assured us
marked the extreme southwest boundary of Fusan territory. By five o’clock we had reached the woods on the outskirts of Fusa.
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Here Subser was of the opinion that we had better
wait until morning before attempting to gain entrance;
for the rules regarding strangers were very strict. I
hobbled Trotta, and we made ourselves comfortable in
a wooded glade, waiting to light a fire until darkness
should have called the last worker back to the city.
For several hours we lay talking while the gray, damp
afternoon dissolved gradually into a cold, clear autumn
night; and the conversation thus induced is still sharp in
my mind. Indeed, I still wonder sometimes what would
have happened had I followed my instinct that evening
and refused to allow either Atta or myself to enter the
city. For already, naturally, I had realized that I was in
a totally unpredictable world where only the bloody-
handed survived. Also I was more than dubious of how
far my unusual abilities with ax and lance would carry
me in a civilized Formican city. Nevertheless, until that
moment I had viewed what lay before me as principally
an excitement that would at least obliterate the sense of
what my transformation had actually done to me. I had
conceived of life in Fusa as a new and pleasant extension
of Atta’s and my joint adventure, with Atta as still my
friend and companion and Subser as, in a measure,
our Man Friday. Now, however, it began to be borne
in on me how limited was my knowledge. During the
last few days Atta himself had been increasingly silent
whenever I had attempted to discuss the subject. And
even a brief review of the conversations between him
and Subser threw little light on the kind of future I
might expect.
Now that I considered it, indeed, it seemed obvious
that not only did neither of them appear to have any
idea where we should live or what we should do, but
Fusa itself seemed to be bathed in a kind of gray, colorless twilight. Subser had lived there since childhood, and Atta had visited there many times. But nowhere in any
of their exchanges could I remember any references to
a desire to revisit some particular spot. Totally lacking
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was any nostalgia for some familiar place dear to a metropolitan citizen returning home after a long absence. Instead, both Atta and Subser appeared to be interested solely in estimating such matters as tons of grain stored
crowded condition thereof, hours of labor, the size of
the armed forces, the effectiveness of the police, the
prevalence of dwarfs or young thieves—I could not divine which—and the general division of daily work, even down to the job of rearing and educating the city’s children: all of which, I gathered, was a community affair.
But at no point had they mentioned any plans of their
own, referred to any city official by name, voiced any
criticism or opinion, or even recalled a past love affair or
living relative.
Now that I considered it dispassionately, the impression thus produced suddenly seemed more dreary than I can describe; dreary and appallingly unrelieved. And
after considering the matter of the twilight of our thicket
for some time I became uneasy enough over the situation
I might be getting into to rise and call for a conference.
For it I kindled a fire of small wood trusting to the increasing chill of the night to protect us from unwelcome guests. Atta immediately protested, although somewhat
feebly because of his slightly numb condition. But I replied briefly that the conference seemed necessary to me, because it had occurred to me that we had no plan of
action for the morning and that I ought to understand
better the nature of the problem confronting us before
I entrusted myself to a city that I knew nothing of.
This declaration thoroughly awakened both of my
companions and drew from Atta the best assurances of
which he was capable. But it was still clear to me that
neither one grapsed the extent of my ignorance or understood what it was that I wanted to know. Once we were past the guards, Atta assured me—and he would vouch
for me there—no one would pay any attention to us,
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and each would be free to seek his natural employment.
What was there to worry about?
“But,” I protested with some irritation, “I have no particular employment, and if I had I should have no idea where to go or what to do. I am a stranger.”
“You must have done something in your own country,”
Subser reminded me rather impudently. “What was your
work? Don’t you remember?”
“Naturally I remember,” I said testily. “I was a farmer,
a planter.”
“Then you are a planter now,” said Subser tranquilly.
“You will go outside the wall every morning at eight
and plant.”
I was about to protest my lack of interest in becoming
a field hand when Atta, who had been staring into the
fire, laid his feeller gently on my knee.
“Do not forget,” he said, “it is the time of the Great
Cold. It will not last long. Once the fields are clear, no
one will go out till spring.”
“Then what will I do?” I inquired grimly. “Shovel
snow?”
Subser laughed with a kind of peasant superiority.
“Follow the Formican next to you,” he said. “You will
know fast enough.”
I did not like his manner, and I think it irritated Atta
also.
“Perhaps you do not realize his abilities,” he said
coldly to the Cutter. “His place is among the soldiers. I
will see to it that that is made clear.”
“No doubt,” ejaculated Subser, “once he has passed
the tests.”
Atta shrugged his shoulders. “I know the tests,” he
said. “But I know also that strangers may serve.”
“That is true,” said Subser. “I have seen their bodies
embalmed in the Benefactor’s Museum.”
I was about to say that this did not sound exactly hospitable to me, but Atta had risen abruptly, his eyes on Subser, and he interrupted me. "Come,” he said. “The
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moon has risen, and we can gaze upon the South Gateway. Let us leave Subser to end the fire.”
With that he took me by the arm and led me through ■
the tangled thickets out into a swale of matted vines beyond which the forest ended abruptly. He said nothing as we pushed ourselves through the shadowy moonlit