He loosed the cord, and undid the gag from her mouth, careful of his fingers against her bite. Her mouth opened wide, she panted in deep, quavering breaths.

“What name?” he demanded, and pointed to her friend.

“Naroo!” she gasped, and her eyes filled with hate.

“Naroo!” He scowled down at the girl. “Nareen and Naroo—those names please me. And now, Naroo, see that you obey me, too!” Lightly he tapped Nareen on the head with his club. “I have taken out your gag now,” he snarled, “and you can scream—if you want to. And I will stretch you a bundle of dead meat on the ground!” And she read death in his savage eyes.

He undid the cords from her ankles.

“Stand up!” he ordered.

She sat there, still breathing deeply, her twisted face working back into a stubborn scowl. Again he sat across her legs to hold her unmoving, placed the cord round her neck, tightened it, and slowly increased the pressure, calmly staring into her bulging eyes, gazing down her open, choking throat with detached interest. When she seemed near her last gasp he allowed the cord to slacken, waited while agonizedly she struggled for breath, then, when her lungs were partly filled, slowly he drew tight the cord again. Not until her tongue had swollen and her eyes were bulging from their sockets did he read final surrender. When he loosened the cord he had to hold her by the hair to prevent her falling back while she moaned for breath—a painful, convulsive struggle. At last, with streaming eyes, she came despairingly to her knees, struggled weakly up, and stood there trembling, panting. Only then did he take the cord from her neck.

“Stand up, Naroo!” he ordered the other.

But she lay there glaring up at him, gritting her sharp white teeth, primitive fury in her eyes. He sat down across her legs, jerked her up by the hair, placed the cord round her neck, slowly tightened it.

She stood it even longer than Nareen had. He allowed her to struggle back to nearly her full breath, then gave her the cord again. He worked slowly and noiselessly, almost gently, as if he had all the time in the world, sitting here in the stillness and gloom of the scrub, just as if no one cared whether the sun ever went down or came up again. Naroo fought against it with all her strength, then with all her cunning. Desperately she tried to defy the cord, the cord that the strongest man cannot beat. She was almost done when he allowed her breathing space again.

She did not know he was admiring the hate in her streaming eyes as she lay panting there, making no attempt to struggle to her knees. Casually he gave her the cord again, while her distorted features fought back at him with the despairing fury of a trapped wildcat.

He gave her the cord yet again, his face expressionless but his heart exulting. “Two good girls! And what a mother of warriors this one will be!”