On Her Own

by Gemini Explorer

Marguerite is lost in the jungle on the way home from the Zanga village, where Vee and Finn get in trouble for a sensual dance. Marguerite must avoid capture by hostile Indians and later, M&R are menaced by a T-rex. Relationships in the Treehouse are examined. Strong M&R sentiment and interaction.

Although this Fic is not "explicit" by modern literary standards, it is rated Mature, and should be read with that in mind. The story is meant for an adult audience. It includes nudity, sexual situations, and limited adult language. It is set after the Third Season on TV, without regard for the cancelled Fourth Season. All three of the couples in the Treehouse are engaged: John and Marguerite, George and Finn, and Ned and Veronica. See my Profile for info on the G&F pairing, or read, "Challenger's Birthday." to see why they got together. Read, "The Death of Zoth" for the introduction to Finn's pregnancy. That has been confirmed by the time this story opens.

NOTE: This story is marked with 18 chapter headings, to let the reader find a convenient stopping place if he/she can't finish the entire novelette in one sitting. PLEASE READ AND REVIEW. Reviews are the sole pay that a Fic author receives! But read it all before jumping to any conclusions about characters or plot. Keep in mind the 1924 time period and how that affects customs and attitudes.

This is for Jovana, one of her country's brightest university students, and a fan of Marguerite Krux! Jovie, you asked for it, and here it is!

"On Her Own"

By Gemini Explorer

"I bet that George would like this one best," mused Nicole Finnegan as she turned the carved jade statuette of a stylized human figure in her hands.

Her friend Marguerite Krux glanced over at it. They were standing in the Zanga Indian bazaar in a village on a remote plateau in northern Brazil. Nicole, usually known to her friends by her nickname of Finn, was shopping the wares of an old Zanga craftsman whose work had caught the young blonde's eye as they browsed the bazaar with their hostess and close companion, Veronica Layton.

"It isn't without interest," conceded Marguerite. "The workmanship is admittedly exquisite, and I suspect that it has strong Aztec overtones that would interest your beloved 'genius' ". She smiled to take any sting from her words, but both knew that Nicole was being teased for her devotion to her man, Professor George Challenger, leader of their little expedition. Slightly in awe of Challenger, Nicole often called him, "Genius" as a pet name. It has been said that familiarity breeds contempt, but in this case, the opposite was true. At first somewhat of a smart alec and a bit sarcastic toward her friends after she had been rescued from the horror of her own society in 21st Century New Amazonia, Finn had grown fonder of them, and of Challenger in particular. Now more polished and better educated than she had been, Finn had grown to respect and love each of her companions. But in the two years that she had known him, she had come not only to love Challenger; she was a little overwhelmed that he should be as brilliant as she had discovered him to be. And that he should love her left her feeling humble and thankful. There was some truth in the other girls' playful taunt that Finn nearly worshipped the man. Now, she wanted to please him by buying him some item from the bazaar that he would treasure not just because it had come from her, but because it would arouse his scientific curiosity.

"How much do you think I should offer for this?" asked Finn. "It really is well made and I just know that the Genius would like it. Look how the light catches the jade as I turn it. Isn't this, like, awesome?!" She stroked it appreciatively, thoughtfully.

"How much were you thinking of giving?" countered Marguerite. "However much, it's probably excessive. One can't expect a blonde to know the value of things." She smirked, looking out the corner of her eye to be sure that Finn felt gouged by her barb. Sarcasm was characteristic of Marguerite, even when she did it in fun, to prick her companions in jest. Fortunately, she had eased off considerably since her arrival here nearly four years before.

"Cool it, Marguerite," said the third woman of their number. "I get tired of being hassled about being blonde, and I know that Finn does, too. We aren't as stupid as legend suggests. We've certainly pulled your brunette hide out of the fire on occasion." She smirked a bit, herself, to the entertainment of her longtime Zanga friend, Assai, and the fifth woman in their group, Sa'eera, youngest wife of Zanga king Jacoba. Assai shook her head in amusement. Sa'eera laughed out loud. She was also a blonde, via a hair formula concocted by Challenger to color her naturally brown hair. Sa'eera was half white, fathered by a man who had been an associate of Veronica's dead father. (Her mother was still missing after 15 years, her fate unknown.)

"I don't know what to offer for it, Marguerite. That's why I'm asking your wise counsel," retorted Finn. "You know how to bargain with primitive people in bazaars all over the world. What do I know? I was born here a hundred years in the future and raised in the ruins of a world gone mad. I'm still getting used to being able to just go to the Zanga mall here and buy things. It beats hell out of not knowing where to find even my next meal, I can tell you."

"Ouch!" winced Veronica. "Touché, Finn. Marguerite lay off of her. She really wants your help. She trusts you, and she's earned your assistance. You'd probably have died in Xochilenque if Finn and George hadn't risked their lives to save yours." She arched her eyebrows meaningfully at the dark-haired woman. (See, "The Crystal Skull" for their adventures in Xochilenque.)

"Oh, all right!" snapped Marguerite. "Finnykins, I apologize. I was just having fun with you. Offer this chap some trifle and see if he 'bites'. It's best not to start the bidding too high. He's going to want more than you offer, whatever amount it is. That's how merchants are. Make him take less than he wants, if he wants to sell that grotesque thing. Still, the jade is pretty, and George would like the Maya or Aztec resemblance."

Finn fumbled for a small gold coin in her pouch, worn like a purse on a sling over her shoulder. It held money, a few other trinkets that might have trade value, a comb, lipstick, watch, a mirror, and a box of ammunition for her Mannlicher-Schoenauer rifle. The coin had come from the dreaded Tecamaya city of Xochilenque, from which the adventurers had taken a treasure of enormous value. The rifle had been recovered from another (perished) expedition, and had replaced her small crossbow. She also wore a revolver and a hunting knife on her hand-tooled black belt, made for her by John Roxton.

"That coin is worth far more than this savage needs," grumped Marguerite. "You are much too generous, Nicole. It's sweet of you, but you'd go broke without me to help you bargain."

"Well, what should I offer then, Marguerite? And cool it about this guy being a savage. Our Zanga pals will hear you, and he's a respected member of their tribe. I bet he's one of their best artists, and that jade statuette took a lot of work to shape and to carve. And it's for George. I'm willing to give the man a good price for it."

Marguerite sighed theatrically, inferring that she was long put upon by inferior beings, but was prepared to suffer graciously for them. "Sweetie, why don't you put the little statue down and you and the other girls drift off and look at something else. I'll do that, too. Then, in a few minutes, I'll wander back over here and see what the man will settle for to let it go. I bet I'll get you a good price."

Finn, who was considerably brighter than Marguerite pretended that blondes were likely to be, knew this technique. If it pleased her friend to act imposed upon to help her, she knew that Marguerite was not really being condescending. She was playing a role, apparently designed to bolster her own self image and to tease her friends. It pleased Marguerite Krux to feel needed, and she liked to think of herself as worldly, which she in fact was. The needy sophisticate, mused Finn, but said nothing aloud. She also knew how easily wounded her worldly near sister was. For much of her life, she had felt unloved, and had taken refuge in her image. The sarcasm and pretended superiority were her way of dealing with her lack of self esteem.

Finn knew that she shared some of Marguerite's esteem issues, and she was still amazed that she had been able to capture the heart of one of history's greatest scientific minds. Just as Marguerite had only recently accepted the place in her own man's heart that she had won after much self doubt... That Lord John Roxton had come to love her, former jewel thief, onetime slave to an Arab master, and double agent in wartime still thrilled Marguerite. She tried to be more blasé than Finn about being in love, but both women actually marveled that they were loved so openly and genuinely.

"Okay, Marguerite, let's get some punch over at that refreshment stand and you can come back here and deal with this guy later. But take a good look at this statue. It looks a lot like his others, but I just know that this is the one that George would like best."

"I don't doubt that," quipped her Treehouse mate. "I sometimes think that you know George better than he does himself. He's lucky to have you looking after him. All right. I've seen the bloody little troll that you want. Let's get some limeade or guava juice or whatever it is that the refreshment stand lady is hawking this afternoon. I feel sure they haven't got any tea, like civilized people would."

Finn looked anxiously at her. "Sure that you'll remember the right jade thingee? Okay, okay: don't look at me that way! I believe you. Hey, Marguerite, will you and John teach me how to behave in London tea shops? I don't want to embarrass George when we finally get to one." Finn knew somehow that she and the others would get off of the Plateau and reach Britain. Her man had said they would, and she believed him. And she wanted to know how to behave when they did.

Marguerite softened, for she loved Finn deeply. They had endured many adventures together, and she knew what it was like to be apprehensive about whether one would be accepted. She took Finn's hand and they strolled over to the refreshment stand together. The other girls followed, chattering away in the Zanga tongue, which Veronica spoke fluently. She should, for she had been born here, and this tribe had raised her for much of her childhood.

Finn tugged Marguerite over to the refreshment "stands", where Zanga women sold food and drink on bazaar days.

They bought drinks of fruit juice, and vegetables with meat of deer, peccary, and tapir. Marguerite chose fowl, probably from chickens raised in the village. The food was served on huge leaves of a local tree. The glazed clay cups would be returned by customers, the Zanga being basically honest in such matters.

Both women sat on stone benches and began eating, chatting about the trip, the jade statuette, and some cloth that they wanted to use in making replacement garments for their original clothes. Most of their cloth came from Zanga looms or what Veronica wove on her mother's loom in the huge Treehouse that they shared. More sophisticated fabrics like a faux satin, were devised by Challenger, who used natural silk from silkworms, too. This was used for undergarments, which Finn designed, to reflect 21st Century tastes. The resulting lingerie was much briefer than that known in 1924, the present year, and both Marguerite and Veronica had taken to these undies with enthusiasm. Finn had often dreamed of owning those that she had seen in old catalogs or on women who had retained or made such things after the disaster that had devastated her society.

Now the fiancée of one of the great scientific geniuses of all time, she had the opportunity to have these wonderful, sexy clothes. Sometimes, Marguerite helped her in designing, for she had quickly grasped the concept and had enormous fashion sense.

For a time, they had mulled over the idea of offering a line of sexy lingerie in Paris and in London when they left the Plateau, but had regretfully decided that the moral temper of the times would probably not let them reach mass markets with bikini briefs, pushup or demi bras, thongs (also called tanga panties), and similar items. But Marguerite knew that certain women would pay well for these when bought privately, to impress their men and to feel free and desirable. They planned an underground market to please such women and themselves, laughing as they plotted.

Finn rose to go after more rice and yams from a vendor, and Veronica cast an envious eye on her virtual sister. Finn and Marguerite were blessed with excellent metabolisms and ate pretty much what they desired, within reason. Veronica, on the other hand, had sometimes to think of her figure, and be glad that her active lifestyle let her retain her looks while eating as much as she dared. That was not usually as much as the other women were able to enjoy without ill effects. She soothed her bruised ego by reflecting that she had the best bosom of the three, something not lost on most men whose eyes she felt on her. She sat up straighter and adjusted her top to display a little more flesh. It was a small thing, and more vain than she had once been. But living with two other attractive women and seeing how their men reacted had made her more conscious of such matters.

Sa'eera saw, and checked her own neckline. Her brief green floral print top was cut so as to let her display her charms, and she basked in male attention, as did her friend Finn. Both were teased for this by their close female friends, and by Jacoba's other wives, in Sa'eera's case.

Finn sat down again beside Marguerite and asked, "Hey, is it too soon to go back and see what that guy will take for George's statuette? I don't want anyone else buying it out from under us." She looked pleadingly at Marguerite, whose heart was stirred to pity, if also amusement. Finn was so honest and open in her adoration of Challenger and in her constant nurturing of him...Then, it struck Marguerite just how much Challenger's love meant to the young survivor of harsh times, who had lost all of those whom she had loved in her own day. What she and George Challenger shared must seem to Finn like an unexpected opening of Paradise!

Marguerite's heart went out to Finn and she took her hand and smiled. "I'll do my best, Finnykins, but I can't promise anything. Just pay me back whatever I manage to get that thing for. I'm going to start by offering him a few of those iron needles that John makes." She rose and straightened her khaki skirt, adjusted her gun belt, and headed for the jade vendor.

Marguerite had a mischievous thought and returned, asking Sa'eera to go with her, for companionship. Sa'eera thought that mildly odd, for she knew that Marguerite was not usually especially forthcoming with "native" girls. Her closest white friend was Finn, just as Assai was especially close to Veronica. Still, Marguerite had taught her Middle Eastern dance, and she had earned many a pleased accolade from her Royal husband when she performed for him.

Curious, she agreed to join Marguerite and the girls excused themselves.

"What do you suppose that is about?" asked Veronica.

Assai shrugged, looking puzzled. Finn smirked. "I bet that Marguerite wants one of Jacoba's wives with her while she bargains, to intimidate that craftsman into selling to her for a low price."

They all laughed at this, admitting that such a tactic was clever on Marguerite's part.

Some 20 minutes later, Marguerite returned. Sa'eera was nowhere to be seen.

"Well?" demanded Finn. "Did you get it? And, where's Sa'eera?"

Marguerite had a sad expression as she sat beside Finn. "Nicole, I may have been wrong to tell you not to buy that thing with your gold. He had only one. I'm sorry, but it has been sold." (Finn's full name was Nicole Elizabeth Finnegan.)

"What?!" exclaimed the disgusted Finn. "Marguerite, you jerk! Next time, let me splurge a little if I'm willing. George would have loved that creepy little Aztec-like god or whatever it was, He'd probably find out who it was supposed to be, too. Well, which ones were left? The pyramid wasn't bad. Maybe the Genius would like it..."

"Did you promise to bring him something? Maybe George isn't expecting anything, so he won't be disappointed if you don't bring something. The main thing that he REALLY wants is for you to come home safe and sound. Right?" Marguerite reached out and hugged Finn as if comforting her.

Finn shrugged free, a pout on her face. "It's okay, Marguerite. You meant well. I'll just go over and see if that little pyramid is left. It was cute." She rose to go to the jade vendor.

"You can get the pyramid if you like. It's still there. But I thought that what you wanted was that grotesque little heathen god." Marguerite suppressed a smile.

"Well, gee, Marguerite," exclaimed the younger woman, "Yeah! But how the hell am I supposed to get it now that it's been sold?!" Marguerite could be so vexing at times...

Marguerite motioned, and Sa'eera emerged from behind a large tree. She was grinning and she held the very statuette that Finn had desired. She and Marguerite broke into laughter at the same time, and Finn realized that she'd been "had".

Veronica caught on and told Assai to look. Soon, all five women were enjoying Marguerite's little joke. But Finn could have done without it, had she been given a choice...

"I said that it had been sold, Finnykins. I didn't say to whom. I bought it for four needles and one of those trade knives that John forges. You owe me, Blondebrain! How about dusting the Treehouse the next time Veronica bugs me to do that?" Her dislike of housework was well known.

Finn looked serious. "Johnny works hard to make those knives. Those blades are all hand forged. Marguerite, you should have just let me pay with the coin. Okay, I'll do some housework for you. The main thing is, George gets the jade carving. I think he'll love it. And, to answer your question: no, he isn't especially expecting me to bring him anything. But the look on his face when I do is worth more to me than gold." She beamed, thinking of how Challenger would react on seeing the trinket.

Marguerite sniffed dramatically. "Clearly, you will never be a success as a banker or tax collector, Finnykins. You value decency, love, and happiness above riches."

Veronica intervened. "Marguerite, you're trying to be funny, and it is sort of cute. But I'm glad that Finn does think that way. She's one of the sweetest and best friends that we could ask for. And she and George are both rich enough for life with the loot that we took out of Cuauhtémoc's treasure vault. Let her spend what she wants next time if it means getting something before someone else buys it. Finn, finish lunch and think of us girls who starve ourselves in hopes of looking as trim as you do. We need to finish shopping and start back before dark. What time is it?" Veronica had never worn a watch.

Finn dug out her Patek Phillipe pocket watch, carried in her purse/pouch. It was in a fine case of soft pebble-grained leather made for her by Roxton, to prevent the valuable timepiece from being scratched. Like a number of her other prized possessions, it had been taken from the dead slavers who had held her and Marguerite for a time the previous year. Finn had been told the value of this watch, and she was impressed. But she treasured it mainly for its beauty, the Roman numerals on the face, and the hunting scene carved into the gold case. And she loved being able to own a watch for the first time in her life, not to mention the advantage of being able to tell time. That could be useful, even here in the jungle.

"It's about ten minutes till two," she announced. She picked up the jade carving and ran her fingers lovingly over it. It really was a nice piece of work.

"Why not stay tonight with us? " asked Assai. "Cousin, will Jacoba not host our other guests if Veronica stays with me? Maybe Marguerite will give you more dancing lessons." Her eyes twinkled.

Sa'eera agreed that her lord and master would host the other two women, especially if Marguerite would dance for him.

"We can shop all we want and swim too, if you stay tonight, and I can finish weaving that cloth that you want." Assai missed Veronica now that she no longer lived in her village.

Finn shrugged. "Vee, I'll stay if you want. But we need to tell the boys that we're okay. None of them understands drum signals. We can't just not tell them. Ned, Johnny, and George would go nuts, thinking that raiders or dinosaurs had gotten us." She was disappointed not to take the carving straight to Challenger, but relished the idea of frolicking in the pool downriver with her friends whom she hadn't seen for over a month. Alone for so much of her life, she loved having trustworthy female companions to play with. And they did need that cloth from Assai.

Marguerite blanched at the thought of staying the night in a native hut. And she missed John Roxton too much to linger here, once her shopping was finished.

"I'll go back by myself and take word to the men that you're fine. I'll even help them make dinner. It might be fun being the only woman there, for a change. I daresay that they'll all be very gallant and will probably spoil me rotten." Marguerite also wanted to finish some sewing. Certainly, she did not relish a night spent here.

Veronica shrewdly guessed what was in her brunette friend's mind and why. She regarded Marguerite as an elitist, and wasn't happy with her British pal's aversion to "natives." This was less pronounced than it once was, but Marguerite's nature just didn't allow for much more than basic civility toward the Zanga, apart from Sa'eera and Assai. She shared psychic impressions with the shaman, Xma'Klee, but didn't really have a close bond with him. And she surely wasn't thrilled at Jacoba's likely insistence that she dance for him, no doubt having shed most of her clothing for the purpose. What she would do in the Treehouse wasn't necessarily what she wanted to display here.

"Marguerite, we'll all have to go back together. It's too dangerous for you to go alone. Assai, Sa'eera, will you excuse us if we decline your kind offer?" Veronica wanted to stay with her Zanga friend, but knew that the reality of the situation precluded that.

Finn was willing to stay with Veronica, her first and best friend here ever, other than George Challenger. She shared some of Marguerite's aversion to "natives", but Sa'eera and she were firm friends, she wanted that swim, and to shop more. If Jacoba wanted a white girl to undress and swing her loins to music for him to see, well, Finn was not above occasional acts of exhibitionism, if the circumstances were right. It thrilled her to know that men liked looking at her. Her heart was with Challenger, but her ego was still open to being appreciated by others. She was willing to join Sa'eera in a performance that would much please the king, and one never knew when his favor might be needed in this savage land. Sa'eera could loan her a spare loincloth and halter top. And Finn danced nearly as well as could Marguerite. It should be fun!

Finn told everyone that she would stay with Veronica if Marguerite could convince them that she would be safe on the way home.

Marguerite argued that they had often used the path to the Treehouse, which branched off from a game trail within half a mile of their aerial dwelling. It was still daylight, and she would travel fast. And she had her rifle. Why worry?

A discussion ensued, and Marguerite won. She would shop for a few minutes more, than head for home. The others reluctantly agreed, not at all sure that this was wise. Still, they knew her aversion to staying here, and they did need to show their respects to Jacoba and Xma'Klee and their families. Finn consoled herself that she and Sa'eera could find a private place and practice with their slings. Use of weapons other than kitchen knives being basically forbidden to Zanga women, they had to sneak off to practice with them. It was a tradition with Sa'eera and Finn that they enjoyed violating this taboo.

So it was that Marguerite returned to the Treehouse alone that day. Had she known what lay in store for her, she might well have reconsidered her eagerness to travel on her own.

She walked out of the village easily, rifle on her right shoulder, canteen freshly filled, her step light and spry. She felt good, and had enjoyed lunch and the companionship.

But she really hadn't wanted to linger in the primitive kraal of the native chief, who was often pompous and dictatorial. He was moody, and Marguerite didn't like playing to the attitudes of savages. A few of his people rose above the norm, and Marguerite actually liked Assai and Sa'eera. But they were exceptions, and she also wanted to reach home soon to spend the night in John Roxton's bed, not on a crude native couch. Finn and Veronica endured that sort of thing better, having been raised, if that was the word, in less civilized venues than she had been. The Princess and the Pea, that's me, she laughed. My favorite fairy tale...

Home beckoned, and a good cup of coffee, drunk with her preferred friends, although only the men would be there. But they would be gallant, and might not even expect her to make dinner. John would help or Ned, if she did have to labor in the kitchen. Perhaps they would fear letting her prepare their meal, for she was not renowned for her culinary skills. That was it: Ned and John would probably cook, and she could just smile and bat her eyelashes and charm them. All would be done for her. But she could serve coffee, especially for John.

She blushed as she realized that she looked forward to pouring his coffee and maybe to serving his plate, once dinner was ready. Now that she had fallen so completely for this wonderful man, it was the most natural thing in the world to want to wait on him, to some degree. The knowledge that she wanted to take care of him, and not just in bed, had been a clanging alarm call to her that she was in love. For the first time in her life, she truly WANTED to take care of a man's needs. Finn had been right when she told Marguerite that being in love made a woman want to nurture her man, and that if she managed to at least cook eggs without burning them, she would feel more fulfilled and feminine. The other girls had given her a crash course in egg frying, and she had indeed felt pretty good when she had set eggs before Roxton, knowing that she had cooked them herself.

He had been thrilled that she had overcome her fear of the kitchen for him, and had praised her beyond what a normal woman would expect for that degree of effort on his behalf. Maybe in time, she would attempt something more ambitious than breakfast...Not that she was going to routinely spoil Roxton to the level that Finn did Challenger. The idea of buttering his bread was just silly. Not that she hadn't done it a few times, watched with amusement by Finn. Her blonde friend had been razzed for that very thing by Marguerite. But Finn was fun to tease, and she nearly fawned over her scientist! Marguerite found that excessive, even for Roxton, who would be embarrassed if Marguerite took as good care of him as Finn did of George. Well, he PROBABLY would feel that way. Who knew how much a man might like to be cared for, if he could find a woman who would do that for him?! George Challenger was exceptionally fortunate in that regard. Marguerite smiled as she recalled the small, intimate gestures between the Challengers. The casual, affectionate touching, the looks of pure love that passed between them. Maybe they did deserve one another. Although it was sort of unseemly, the way that Finn often sat on George's lap, her arm around him like some hussy in a house of ill repute. Marguerite flushed as she realized that this was exactly what she wanted to do tonight, on John's lap, whether Malone and Challenger looked at her with raised eyebrows or not. At least, Arthur Summerlee wasn't there to chide her, or to give a reproving glance. Arthur had been sweet in some ways, but he could be a bit of a prig, and he had fancied himself to be the expedition's conscience.

The thought of the deceased scientist made Marguerite's eyes water as she remembered how it had been when they were all still together, save for Finn, who had yet to arrive. He could be a moral scold, but she missed Arthur and his contentious discussions with Challenger...

She was jolted from her reverie by a scuttling sound in the brush off the path. It came from ahead and some forty yards distant. Marguerite swung the .303 Lee-Enfield sporting rifle off her shoulder and cycled the bolt, shoving a cartridge into the chamber.

With any luck, this would be nothing sinister, perhaps a hare or a harmless snake or lizard. If it was an agouti or similar rodent that could provide meat for the Treehouse, should she shoot? Probably not, she decided. She was a long way from home, and a few pounds of added weight would be unpleasant, not to mention the issue of keeping blood off of her clothes. She was usually quite content to let the men hunt, or for Finn to join Roxton in the partnership that she drolly dubbed the Gun People or the Orion-Diana team.

Now she scanned the jungle ahead carefully. She was already nearly a mile from the gates of the Zanga compound, and no one was there to help if she got into anything serious. At times like this, she wished that she could just shout ROXTON! and John would ride up on a white horse, silver lance in hand, and save her from whatever menace threatened. Men were so useful...when they were there!

Marguerite walked off the path to the left, at the edge, keeping the rifle to her shoulder, her eyes on the area where the scuffling noise had come from. She moved sideways past that point, seeing nothing more, but hearing additional sounds from the jungle beyond vision. Something was definitely there. With luck, it wasn't large and hungry, or maybe it ate plants instead of British brunettes. Not that plant eaters were not dangerous, themselves. Modern elephants and rhinos killed people they didn't eat, and so would some herbivorous dinosaurs. Hippos kill more people in Africa every year than do lions and leopards together! Still, she'd rather meet a Trachodon than a Tyrannosaur! The duckbilled dinosaurs had so far never attacked her or anyone else in the Treehouse. With luck, this wouldn't be one of the aggressive raptor dinosaurs that were so often a threat. The primary form was very similar to Deinonychus, although Challenger said that it was some species unknown to him.

She was tempted to follow, to see what had caused the sound. But she was also smart enough to know that curiosity killed the cat, and her feline instincts were well honed from a life of adventure in nefarious places. Marguerite decided to leave well enough alone.

Passing on down the trail, she remained watchful and cautious. It was well that she did, for she passed almost within striking range of an eyelash viper coiled on a branch at about neck level. It was vivid green with pale yellow accents, beautiful but dangerous...

Recoiling from the sight of the snake, she swore an unladylike oath and muttered, "Can this day possibly get any better?" It was a saying so typical of her that her companions twitted her about it, but it still slipped out when she was under stress.

Vexed now that she had uttered this trite comment once again, she walked carefully down the jungle path until she had put the scuffling sound well behind her. Finally, she rocked the safety lever back onto "Safe" and slung her rifle again. She quickened her pace, eager to get home.

The day was hot, and after half a mile, she tired and sat on a fallen tree to rest and to drink from her canteen. "Water bottle," she thought, and laughed at the way she had razzed Ned Malone about the different names in British and American English for this sort of container. To her, a "canteen" was a sort of club or bar that served food and drink. It became "cantina" in Spanish and probably, in Portuguese. Her prodding of Ned about that had eased her irritation during the recent time that they had stalked the returned demons who sought to force Challenger to tell them how to make some of his inventions that would have let their vile leader, Zoth, control the world.

They had sought to use Finn's safety as a means of forcing her lover to disclose his atomic secrets, but Finn had escaped with the aid of Sa'eera, and Zoth and his minions had paid dearly for their re-entry into this dimension. (See, "The Death of Zoth" on this board, in the Mature TLW Fiction.)

Oh, well: "canteen" or "water bottle", Marguerite was glad to have one, and she quenched her thirst and sloshed some water into a hand to moisten her face and neck. The sun was relentless today, with few clouds to offer respite or hope of rain. Not that rain wouldn't be an added problem...

Finished, she shook the aluminum water bottle to determine how much it still held. About two thirds full. Enough, if she didn't drink when she didn't need to. She would be home in about two hours. What a pity this blasted jungle didn't have decent roads and rail or taxi service. And nice pubs along the way, where one could get a cup of tea and a croissant or sandwich. One of the first things she'd do if they ever made it back to England was to have a cucumber sandwich and a delicious cup of tea. Probably Darjeeling on the tea, she decided.

She ducked as a pair of colorful macaws chased one another past. They landed in a nearby tree and continued squawking at one another. Gad, she reflected. I hope that John and I never behave that way. She laughed at the blue and yellow birds and marched on, her spirits restored.

All went well for nearly another mile. Then, with a sudden crash of hooves, a small herd of wild horses galloped past, something obviously having panicked them. They had wandered into this area from the savannah below, and had found something dreadful, as well as less forage and limited room to run. Horses seldom came this high into the montane jungle and Marguerite was startled to see them.

She had just regained her composure when she learned the cause of the disturbance. The horses had winded carnivorous dinosaurs ahead. She heard growling and a hoarse scream, and on coming around a bend, saw two Allosaurs locked in combat with a Stegosaurus. The latter pivoted more quickly than she would have believed that the massive beast could move, and struck one Allosaurus a stunning blow with the spiked club on its tail. The large carnivore let loose a howl of pain and rage. Its fellow Allosaur seized the moment to grasp the plant eater by the throat, low, beneath the armor. A horrendous battle ensured, the second Allosaurus joining in as soon as it regained its balance.

Then, Marguerite Krux discovered that this day could indeed get worse. Three more Allosaurs came up the trail, intent on reaching the fray and either assisting in killing the stegosaurus and joining in the feast, or perhaps they wished to dispossess the original killers. It was unusual to see so many of the big predators in the same area. They were solitary hunters, not pack animals.

Those two finished off the huge herbivore as Marguerite huddled low, near the trunk of a tree that she hoped would conceal her from their sharp vision. They had ample meat, but might relish a side dish.

When the others arrived, a squabble broke out and the two smallest of the big dinosaurs were driven off of the kill. They left in fury. One saw Marguerite, and scented her. It wheeled and charged intent on grabbing this morsel to appease the hunger left unslaked by the intended victim.

Marguerite screamed, swung up her rifle and fired. She hoped that she had remembered where to aim, so that her relatively light rifle might kill quickly enough to stop the animal before it was on her.

She had half listened as Roxton, Finn, and Challenger had studied skeletal remains of a Tyrannosaurus rex, divining the shape and thickness of the bones, and studying the passages in the massive skull where a bullet might reach the brain. (Not many!) She remembered John saying that unless one knew just where to shoot an elephant, the frontal brain shot was futile and would result in a dead hunter. Only a small passage in the skull would allow the bullet to reach its mark and save a human facing a charge. So it was with the T-rex and other big carnivores. Failing the brain shot, the best bet might be to break the neck or smash the windpipe. A heart shot would kill, but probably not in time. Reptiles have strong systems and take a while to die, even if mortally wounded.

Marguerite was terrified, and with good cause. Allosaurus was smaller than its successor, the T-rex and similar dinosaurs, but was still large. Some had survived here, having filled the niche of hunting the upper reaches of the jungle, with the T-rex being more likely to be found in drier regions and on the open beaches and savannah. Allosaurs were the equivalent to the leopard in Africa, where it ruled the jungle and mixed forest, with lions being dominant on the plains. Leopards (and Allosaurs) could be found anywhere, but the forest was their prime habitat, where they were largely not menaced by even bigger predators.

Now, she saw her .303 bullet strike the throat just beneath the gaping jaws of the charging beast. The bullet went home, and the animal tripped and fell, struck in the spine. It thrashed mightily, the vertebrae not quite severed. She shot again, hitting the carotid artery, and was rewarded with a shower of blood, pumping out the life of her assailant.

Marguerite heard the other Allosaurs respond to the shots and realized that they were trying to scent her and stalk her. Two returned to the dead stegosaur, but the other sought her! Perhaps it was the mate to the one she'd shot.

Slipping between two large trees that precluded it from seeing her, Marguerite hid her pack under some ferns and shivered among nearby large rocks as the questing beast paraded past, trying to find her. The air currents shifted in this pocket in the jungle, and the smell of blood and feces from the already dead animals confused the horrid theropod.

Finally, she saw her chance and took it, Bolting across a clearing, she ran briskly into the jungle beyond, off of the trail and deeper into the primeval forest. She ran as fast and as far as she could, sure that at any moment, she would feel the hot breath of a hungry pursuer on her neck!

Taking cover at last under a large fern, she realized that her white shirt might give her away to the sharp-sighted theropod. What to do?

She recalled the light blanket that she had bought in the Zanga village, and that it was woven mostly in dark colors. She slipped off her pack and dug it out.

Covering herself under the fern none too soon, she heard an Allosaurus tread nearby, sniffing the wind for her scent. Thankfully, the eddies of the evening breeze in this jungle glade confused the scent and the animal growled in a low rumble of frustration in not being able to locate the woman.

Suddenly, something large broke from cover to her right and ran rapidly past. In an instant, the Allosaurus switched directions and went in pursuit, roaring loudly.

Marguerite huddled in horror under the fern, covered by her thin blanket as another big theropod streaked past. These Allosaurs were nearly 30 feet long, and Challenger and Roxton had pointed out tracks of some that must have been even larger!

A scuffle and howls of rage and pain drifted down on the breeze and it was evident that a life and death struggle was taking place some 150 yards from her. The theropods had caught whatever had run past. In the instant that she had seen it in the failing light, it had resembled a duckbilled dinosaur. But those lived along waterways and the beaches of the Inland Sea, where their specialized snouts let them feed on water plants. This was probably a similar looking species that had a beak designed for eating grasses and reeds and similar forage in upland areas. It had no scientific name as yet, none having been discovered in the outside world. It resembled Iguanodon. Challenger said that he would probably name it for Roxton, who had tracked the first they saw and had called Challenger's attention to it when he located one in his binocular field. They had already named several new species of plant and one other dinosaur after the late Arthur Summerlee, and Challenger felt that it was proper to honor others of the expedition. He had named two new mammals after himself. Given his ego, it was remarkable that there were not more animals bearing his name.

He had promised a wide-eyed, admiring Finn that he would name some species after her, which thrilled her, and amused Marguerite and Veronica. Now that Finn carried Challenger's first child in her womb, she would probably soon find some squirmy reptile bearing her species name. The genus name would be assigned, of course, as science dictated, given its relationships to other animals.

Marguerite thought of Finn and Veronica then and wished that she had decided to stay with them in the Zanga kraal. Or, better yet, that all three had gone home when they should have, but had avoided this frightening reptilian drama. At least, her friends were safe now, probably getting ready to eat supper with Jacoba, his wives, and his courtiers. She wondered what the Great Wife had had prepared for their repast. The thought reminded her of how hungry she was becoming.

CHAPTER TWO

Back in the Treehouse, Lord John Roxton took out his watch and opened it. He studied the face and saw the late hour, and he saw the setting sun through the window. He grew uneasy, and his face reflected that anxiety as Ned Malone came into the main living area from the kitchen.

Ned noticed the look on Roxton's face and saw the watch in his right hand. That prompted him to check his own watch. Alone among the Treehouse dwellers, Ned wore a wrist watch, something that had gained popularity during the recent world war.

"Isn't it time for the girls to be getting back?" asked Ned.

"It certainly is," Roxton mused. "I'm beginning to worry."

Challenger heard as he ascended the stairs from his lab.

He, too, checked his watch. "Hmmm. This just goes to show what can happen when women are allowed to go shopping on their own. They have probably lost all track of time." He frowned as he saw the lowering sun.

Finn knew better than to linger too late in the Zanga village. He hoped that she had not had some emergency connected with her pregnancy, which they had determined was real soon after defeating Zoth and his retinue of demons about a month prior. At that time, Finn had strongly suspected that she was with child, and now they knew that she was indeed expecting. Challenger had fussed over her ever since, to the amusement and sometimes, the mild pique of the other women, who knew that everything was fine. Nonetheless, they were very supportive of Finn, and thrilled that Challenger and she were going to have the first baby to be born in the Treehouse.

"Shall we do something?" asked Malone.

Roxton and Challenger looked at one another, trying to assess each others' minds. "No," said Challenger, their leader. "It is still too early to become really alarmed, and it is growing dark. We should be unable to find them in the night, and might become lost or injured, ourselves."

Roxton agreed, but added, "If they aren't here within another hour, I want to take a torch and see what we can discover. They may have run out of daylight and need our help to reach home. We needn't go far, but I feel that that much is required."

Challenger relented. "Very well, we can search for a time and see if they are nearby. I cannot rest easy knowing that they are missing. Damn it, Finn knows better than to worry me in this way. I hope that all is well."

xxx

In the Zanga village, the Treehouse women were talking happily with Jacoba's and Xma'Klee's wives, and selecting outfits for the evening's entertainment, for Jacoba had indeed asked that they dance for him and his closer advisors and war chiefs.

"I told you so," grinned Finn when the request came, via Assai, the king's favorite daughter. Assai, Veronica, Sa'eera, and Finn all looked at one another and laughed.

"Father is rather predictable in some regards," admitted Assai.

Ta'leea, Jacoba's second youngest wife, brought loincloths and halter tops that she knew would fit the white girls trimly and present them well to her royal husband.

The girls giggled as they looked through the clothes. They undressed and tried on several outfits each. Finn stood before a long mirror at one point, running her hands over her stomach and womb. She looked thoughtfully at her image in the mirror.

"Am I 'showing' too much, Vee?" she asked her best friend.

Veronica decided to pretend to misunderstand. "No. Jacoba will probably love a nearly nude dancer. Why would you think that you're showing too much? You do that when we dance for the boys at home; why not here?" She suppressed a grin. The other women tinkled with laughter, the sound of musical notes. It was true that Finn's dance outfits were briefer than either Marguerite's (save for a spectacular red one), or Veronica's.

"Oh, ha-ha," Finn said drily, smiling at the jest. She did look rather good, she thought. "You know what I mean, 'Sis'. Can you tell that I'm in a family way?"

"No," said Veronica, now serious. "You still look great, Finn. What are you, maybe three months along, or less? You just look like you might have eaten a big meal, if that. Get dressed and let's go eat. Ta'leea says that we're having roast pork, rice, and yams. That sure sounds good to me. We have pineapple, too, and you like that."

"Cool," said Finn "Where do we put our stuff? Will anyone steal it?"

"No," said Assai. "They know that you are guests of my father and that your things would all be recognizable. Father deals harshly with thieves. But unload the guns. I'll see that Father places a guard on the door, but some child or curious adult might wander in and play with them. We don't want any accidents."

That done, Veronica selected a deep lavender loincloth that was narrower than she really preferred, but it fit her, and all of the other girls told her how superb she looked in it. Sa'eera helped her to tie the matching top and she helped Finn fasten the top that she had chosen, in dark green. Veronica thought that the panels to Finn's loincloth were too narrow, but said nothing, for her own attire was hardly more...more! Still, it excited her to know that she would soon be assessed by men other than Ned Malone, and she was confident that she would not be found wanting.

Assai chose deep yellow, a color that they made with dye tablets that had been molded by Challenger. Sa'eera chose white, which looked wonderful against her tanned skin. Born of an Anglo father, Sa'eera looked for all the world like a European girl with a slight suntan. Yet, on her mother's side, she was Assai's cousin and mighty shaman Xma'Klee's niece. She wore a slender black crocodile belt to support the slim loincloth, and liked the contrast of the black belt and the finely woven, smooth white cloth.

Sandals were provided, and when all was ready, Assai led the women in single file into the great hut used for meetings of the senior elements of Zanga society.

The men saw, some with their wives, for Jacoba had allowed spouses to attend, that they might see and learn to perform as the dancers did. A round of applause broke out, the Zanga slapping their right thighs with their hands. Finn and Veronica blushed, making them look even more desirable. They sat where shown and accepted wooden spoons and wide, thick leaves as plates.

Veronica smelled the pork, and savored the aroma.

CHAPTET THREE

Huddling beneath a bush in the jungle, Marguerite took out her compass, but couldn't see the face. Maybe later, when the nearly full moon had risen higher, she could distinguish the dial. If she risked lighting a match, someone or something might see or smell it, and this might not be to her benefit. She also had only 20 matches, and wanted to reserve them for lighting torches and cooking and signal fires. She cursed her decision not to bring a flashlight, but hadn't wanted to bother with the weight, and they had expected to return home by dusk.

She slipped carefully away from the Allosaurs arguing over their meal, and eventually felt safe enough to rise from hands and knees and walk upright.

She settled at the base of a huge tree, but looked across at a squiggle of motion in the shadows and realized that a large Bushmaster (Lachesis muta), some 12 feet long, had coiled itself and was looking at her, its forked tongue flickering as it tasted the air, trying to sense what manner of creature she was. Its tail began to vibrate in the dead leaves that were its bed, and she rose quickly and left, seeing the deadly reptile slither forward a few feet after her.

Fighting panic and reminding herself of all the ordeals that she had survived to date, Marguerite stumbled on, trying not to trip and fall in the darkness of the ancient forest.

When her legs warned that they would soon carry her no further, she located a clump of rocks atop a slope. She hoped desperately that the rocks harbored no hidden snakes, centipedes, or scorpions.

Shrugging off her pack, she sank down on a stone and unscrewed the cap to her water bottle. She greedily drank several swallows and shook the bottle. Less than half full now, and it would have to last her until she could get more. River water that had not been boiled was unsafe, so she would have to think of a way to boil water, and she had no pan or kettle.

Marguerite rummaged though her pack and found a can of sardines and some home-made cornmeal crackers sealed in a tube. She hated sardines, but they had few emergency foods left, and Roxton had insisted that she take a tin of them.

She managed to peel the lid off of the can via a tab, and used the switchblade knife (flick knife, in some countries) from her boot to pry out the sardines and consume them. The flavor wasn't delectable to her, but she knew that she needed the protein. They had been packed in mustard, making the taste more tolerable.

Washing down the fish and the crackers took more of her precious water.

She was glad of her new lightweight blanket, although the night was not yet cold enough to need it.

She had no knife on her belt, having forgone it, because in her mind she could always have one of the men cut something for her. The spring-opening pocketknife carried hidden in her boot was one that she had stolen from the late Avery Burton: scoundrel, slaver, thief, and general all-round no-good rascal. It was mainly intended as an emergency weapon against humans, and wasn't designed for jungle survival. She longed for Finn's Swiss Army pocketknife, but of course, it wasn't here, nor was its wry, brave, and loyal owner. Finn also wore a small Bowie knife on her gun belt, made for her by John Roxton two Christmases ago. (See, "Christmas at the Treehouse.") Its six-inch (15cm) blade could handle most cutting too heavy for a pocketknife. So would Veronica's dagger, if less well, but again, neither the blonde vixen who owned it or the knife was here, helping her out on this terrible night. She knew that the basic survival tool in the wilderness was a good knife and she began to regret not carrying one.

Marguerite shook her canteen again, lamenting the sloshing noise that told her that not much water remained in it.

She unloaded the magazine of the .303, counting the cartridges. She looked at all five, being sure that none was dirty or corroded, and pressed them back into the magazine and closed the bolt and set the safety. Normally, she would have left the chamber empty, but she was afraid that she might have to shoot on short notice. Operating the bolt made noise, too. That might prove perilous if some large predator was near. So, she left the chamber loaded and the safety on. She wished that she had exchanged the five-shot magazine of this sporting rifle for a ten - shot military magazine. It wouldn't look as trim, but held more cartridges. Often, she carried the rifle with the longer magazine, but not today!

She checked the spare rifle ammunition in her pack. Just 20 more rounds...She opened a flat yellow box of the the Kynoch softpoint hunting loads, and rolled the cartridges around in her hand, the clinking of the brass cartridge cases being music to her ears. She put it away and checked the spare revolver ammunition in her belt pouch. Just twelve rounds (shots) ...and she hadn't brought more in her pack. That, and the six in the gun would have to do, but she would try not to shoot at anything unless she saw a chance to kill some animal for food after the sun rose in the morning. Until then, she would remain here and try to be quiet.

She took out the revolver and swung out the cylinder. Yes, all six chambers were loaded. She dumped out the cartridges and closed the gun and pulled the trigger a few times. It worked fine, very smooth and reliable. This wasn't her usual gun, a top-opening model by the same maker that shot a .38 cartridge, but shorter and of less power than this one used.

What she had been wearing for the past two weeks was a Smith & Wesson like Finn's, but with a barrel an inch shorter, at four inches. It had the optional rounded butt profile, whereas Finn's had the more common square butt. Both guns had finely checkered walnut grip panels with a gold medallion bearing the manufacturer's initials at the top of each panel. Like Finn's gun, Marguerite's had been recovered from weapons owned by Burton's now dead slavers, over a year ago. The two .38's had actually been kept in a supply room, and were new in the maroon-colored boxes, never having been used.

Finn and Roxton had urged Marguerite to try this more powerful .38 Special, which was stronger and easier to shoot well than the older design. The straight-through trigger pull (double-action) was smoother and lighter than on her older gun, and the exposed hammer could be cocked by the thumb for a more precise aim, especially at distant targets. She had preferred her older gun because it was smaller and more easily hidden, and the concealed hammer wouldn't catch on clothing or on a ladies' muff. These considerations were moot here in the jungle, where she wore the gun openly on her belt and the added power was nice, and recoil was still not too severe. Certainly, not like trying to shoot the .45 pistols carried by the men...

Marguerite had grudgingly accepted the new gun, which felt very nice in her hands, and after firing a box of ammunition, she admitted that the new one was accurate and she knew where it shot. She was easily able to hit vital zones on human targets to 15 yards, and with more practice, might be able to equal Finn, who could score kills on men to at least 75 yards when she had a few seconds to take cool, careful aim and use two hands to steady the gun. She had personally seen Finn drop one Xingu headhunter with her .38 at a distance that they had later measured at 60 yards. Marguerite knew that if she had to use a revolver, the range was more likely to be within 50 feet, and she knew that she was deadly at such distances.

She shivered as she recalled the closest shot that she had seen anyone take with a handgun. In that, Finn had seized the hair of a Xingu warrior, pulling his head back while Finn thrust the barrel of her Smith & Wesson .38 under his chin. The shot had blown off the top of his skull and the sight of the dead man's shattered brain still haunted Marguerite's dreams. But Finn had saved her, for the Xingu man had her down and had been tying her hands behind her back when Finn had rescued her. She shuddered at the recollection, loaded the .38 again, and holstered it. (See, "Xingu!" on this board for that story.)

She went through her other things, but found little else with survival value, and regretted that her lofty attitude had kept her from assembling a compact kit of vital items that could prove useful in a situation such as this.

She did find a small container of raisins, which she ate gratefully. When the sun rose, she would look for vines of a certain sort that held rain water. If she could reach one from the ground, her switchblade knife could slice it open, and she would drain the water from the vine into her canteen. "Water bottle," she corrected herself, amused at her smugness. She wished that she had Ned Malone there to tease over speech differences. Besides, if the American had been there, his lover, Veronica, would soon arrive, for where there was one Malone, the other soon joined the first. She missed Veronica, with a pang of guilt over the way that she had sometimes treated her blonde hostess. But I'm the new, improved Marguerite Krux now, she thought, and smiled. Loving a man like Lord John Roxton will do that to a girl...Oh, John! Where are you while I need you so much to be with me tonight!

Marguerite tried to stay awake, her back to a large stone so that nothing could get at her from behind. But she woke several times during the night, jolted awake as she started to fall over. For over an hour, she sat stiffly, thumb poised to release the safety of her rifle, as a jaguar prowled the night near her.

Its distinctive throaty growl frightened her almost as much as did the rumble of a carnivorous dinosaur. She shivered, as had countless other women when the sound reached their ears over the millennia that jaguars and humans had shared tropical American jungles. She knew that they were potential maneaters, and she had heard some scary stories from the Zanga and from their guides on the way to the plateau. She recalled, in particular, one that was black. It had killed and mauled several Zanga hunters before she and Roxton had shot it. Even in the minutes before its death, it had killed one man and mangled another. (See, "A Night in the Lost World." ) That was on the same adventure during which she and Finn had been kidnapped by the villainous Avery Burton. They had no more than overcome Burton and his slavers than she had been called upon to face that ferocious cat.

The beautiful Briton shivered again as she recalled Finn's comment when she had helped Challenger save the life of the man who had been mauled by the big cat. The blonde girl from the future had looked shocked and exclaimed, "Holy guacamole! Which shredder did this guy fall into?" But they had saved the injured Indan's life, although it was touch and go for several weeks. Challenger's new antibiotic had made all the difference in his patient's survival, impressing even the Zanga shaman, Xma'Klee.

Marguerite had carried her .275 Rigby rifle then, but the .303 would handle the same class of animals, and she knew that a well placed 180 grain bullet or two would write "finis" to the career of any jaguar foolish enough to let her get a good shot at it. But in the dark, it would probably be on her before she could distinguish its feline shape from the other shadows. If she slept when it came, its jaws would crush her throat and break her spine before she woke enough to grasp what was happening. She knew that in the Mato Grosso region of Brazil, they could grow to 400 pounds. She had seen examples that reached 300 pounds dead in the Zanga village, and those that she had seen taken by Roxton and Challenger were also formidable. Finn had shot just one, which was raiding an outlying Zanga village, stealing goats and a child. They had weighed it at 233 pounds on the Layton expedition's scale. Finn had been white-faced for an hour after she had killed it in full charge after her first shot had only wounded it. If she had not been well hidden, it would have been on her before she could cycle the bolt of her Mannlicher-Schoenauer 6.5mm rifle. The Zanga man with her had risen to receive the big cat on the point of his heavy spear as her second shot tore out its heart. Even as it squirmed dying, it had tried to reach them, and the warrior had speared it. That had damaged the hide considerably, but Finn insisted on keeping it, sewn shut by Marguerite's skilled hands where the spear had rent it. Finn now displayed it proudly in the room that she shared with Challenger. If he caught her looking at it, he sometimes playfully hoisted her onto the wooden stool that he had made for her as her "pedestal", where he proudly placed her when she had done something especially praiseworthy.

Finn often felt that her man was being charitable or just showing his love when he put her up there, although she had grown to love the attention, embarrassing as it was if Challenger called in anyone else to watch the ceremony. But when he had first put her there for killing that livestock raider and child killer, Finn somberly admitted to herself that she probably deserved the honor. She had been scared out of her wits. And now, Marguerite felt nearly the same!

The moon crept gradually across the sky and Marguerite stirred several times, walking into a clearing from which she could see stars above the tall trees. Finally, she slept against the boulder that had become her refuge, starting awake two hours later as the jabber of birds and monkeys announced the arrival of day.

Stiff, she rose and walked around, rubbing her sore neck.

Finally, hearing nothing out of the expected, she shouldered her pack and crept carefully toward what she hoped was the trail home. But she soon admitted that she was hopelessly lost!

CHAPTER FOUR

After dinner, the Zanga cleared the main floor area in the big hut and ten girls demonstrated tribal dances. They wore halter tops like those of the Treehouse girls and their friends, but instead of the short sarongs that the others would soon remove as part of their routine, these dancers wore short grass skirts over their brief loincloths. The lead girl wore a skirt comprised of tough green leaves about two feet long on a lace about her waist. These leaves were of the same sort used as plates, but selected for size, to suit her physique. The girls whom she led were very skilled and graceful, as if Jacoba had carefully chosen them to say to the Treehouse girls and their friends, Beat This!

Their dancing reminded Veronica and Finn of tales they had heard from Roxton and Malone about girls who performed similar routines in such locales as Hawaii and Tahiti. Veronica wondered for the hundredth time whether Challenger was correct in surmising that the Zanga had originated with some Polynesian tribe that had reached South America long ago, and had interbred with Spanish or Portuguese explorers or settlers. They simply did not resemble local Indians of other races as closely as they should have. There was some overlap, but not to the degree that one would expect. Assai, for instance, could have passed for a Spaniard of the slightly dusky sort. And there was that tribal treasure that her father had inherited, looking like something from a Spanish conquistador's hoard.

When this group was finished, they were greeted with substantial applause and their family members who were present showed admiration for their sensual performance. Several clearly were married to men present, and Assai whispered that another was the daughter of a senior warrior/statesman who sat near Jacoba.

Then, it was time for the visitors and the Royal girls to show their stuff.

Assai led the dance, beginning in a circle. She had briefed Finn and Veronica on what to expect. They had had an hour for choreography, and they had planned well. Circling the watchers, Assai stopped before her father, before whom she knelt gracefully. Then, she rose and moved one space over, and Finn did the same, until all four girls had paid their respects to the powerful native monarch. Finn tried not to look amused and disgusted at the same time. She blushed and tried to look sexy without betraying her troth to another man, George Challenger. Veronica smiled dutifully, but resented this submission to the man who had once sought to buy her from Marguerite in a tawdry little deal intended to get the brunette off of the Plateau, with riches.

A tunnel cave-in had prevented Marguerite and the other explorers from leaving, but Veronica still sometimes resented what had happened, although Marguerite had apologized many times over for her treachery. In recent months, Veronica had come to accept that she now was sincere in regretting what she had done when she was colder and more self serving. She did seem to have changed, and was embarrassed by who and what she had been. Still, Veronica was not too fond of Jacoba and only the need to retain his good will and not upset his daughter compelled her to appear this way in front of the king and his savage court and some of their women.

Sa'eera clearly knew how to milk the occasion for her husband's favor and she was probably not faking her obeisance by much. She did feel honored to have been chosen as one of this jungle strongman's brides, and he took good care of her. When it was her turn to kneel before Jacoba, she didn't stop at a brief kneel and inclination of her head before rising and moving on. Sa'eera knelt low, putting her head to Jacoba's feet and casting her eyes shyly down as she blushed and beamed at his expression. She then lifted her eyes to the Great Wife and curtsied to her senior, which caused that lovely woman to smile back and wave encouragingly at her. Sa'eera's submission was received with applause from the assembled Zanga elders and even their women approved of the young queen's example, for they felt less self conscious about pleasing their own husbands if one of the Royal women so honored her husband.

Then, the two sets of girls, Finn and Sa'eera in one and Veronica and Assai in the other, stood back to back with hands lifted, the backs of their wrists touching, until the music began. On hearing the drums, bells, flutes, shells, gourds filled with stones, and other primitive instruments, the four girls rotated to trade places and began the choreography that they had planned. After some two minutes, each girl faced a senior man present and began dancing Middle Eastern style, as if performing for him in a palace in the Arab states. Finn danced for Xma'Klee, who looked startled but pleased. Sa'eera performed before her husband, and his often somber countenance glowed at this symbol of her wifely devotion. She was indeed a favorite in his harem.

The girls writhed and wiggled and there was not a man there who was not stirred by this stunning display of female charms. Their women were either interested and intent on memorizing the moves, or dour-faced and jealous -looking, according to the woman and her relationship with her man and how she felt about herself as a female.

When the sarongs, the short, wraparound skirts, came off and were waved in the dance, the brief, rather narrow loincloths hid little and the girls' legs and superb bodies caused the watchers to lean forward and stare all the more. Finn felt embarrassed to dance this way out of the Treehouse, but her natural inclination to play to a male audience stood her in good stead. At one point, Veronica looked her straight in the eye and winked, suppressing a smile. Finn managed to avoid laughing outright, covering by grinning widely. She knew that later, Veronica was going to tease her for enjoying the opportunity to display herself this way, and with her being nearly three months' pregnant, at that! She actually felt a little guilty, but consoled herself by resolving to talk Vee into another Treehouse party where the girls would dance this way for their own men. That was one way to get George's head out of the lab!

They swirled and swayed, and Xma'Klee caught Jacoba's eye. The monarch was clearly enjoying himself. He said softly to those near, "Perhaps I should order these white girls detained, that they may entertain us thus more often."

Sa'eera heard and blanched as much as her light skin would allow. She looked half panic stricken, and Jacoba was jolted as he realized how much his youngest wife cared for her Treehouse friends.

On Jacoba's right, the Great Wife leaned to his ear and whispered, "Lord, do not threaten such things. These girls are here as your honored guests, and their friends and they have risked their lives at times that our sick and wounded might live. Veronica has many friends here since childhood. They would be displeased if you take her by force. You would shame your people, and earn the wrath of these girls' men, who love them jealously."

Xma'Klee, the Paramount Shaman of All the Zanga, and the man next to Jacoba in power, agreed. "Great Chief, surely you must have jested. I know that you do not fear three normal white men, even with guns, but the woman who left earlier today is a sorceress of I know not how much power. I myself confer with Ma'Greet about extrasensory visions, and I respect her. She speaks many languages, which she has not even studied! And Professor Challenger, whose medicines have saved our wounded and our ill, has the means to send against us grave pestilences that would destroy all of our kind! He is a great wizard, and loves Finn deeply. She will soon bear his child, the first to be born in that Treehouse since Veronica herself. He will be very angry if you order his woman and his hostess and friend seized. There are other women to be had if you feel jaded by your own wives."

The Great Wife saw her chance. "Are you jaded by us wives, Lord? Shall we find you a new bride to give you fresh joys?" She knew the answer before she asked the question, but it jolted Jacoba to hear this.

"I was making a joke, and this only, to show how much I enjoy this performance. Do not become concerned. I know my obligations as a host." But he had thought it worth a try to float this trial balloon. He tried not to sulk.

The Great Wife looked at Sa'eera and smiled and shook her head head slightly, NO. Sa'eera understood and smiled back. She danced to Jacoba and moved seductively within a foot and a half of him. He brightened.

Later, as they prepared for bed, Veronica asked Sa'eera what Jacoba had said that seemed to have caused a minor stir. Sa'eera blushed and told them, for she had asked others who had heard, to be sure that her own ears had not deceived her.

"But Husband was merely joking. He only meant to express how much he enjoyed your dancing."

"Yeah, I'll just bet," muttered Veronica.

"Vee, it is surely so! I have asked my 'mother', the Great Wife. She said that she and Xma'Klee both counseled him not to think of such things, and she said that it was a joke. I know Husband well. He might think of this, but he knows better, especially when you are honored guests. There are many in this village and throughout our tribe generally who admire you and remember that you saved several of us who were sick and others who were injured by jaguars or pumas and by the Xingu. Together, we went to the terrible city of Xochilenque, and you assisted me when I granted amnesty to the Zanga rebels who would have seized Husband's throne. They are again valued members of this tribe. You are in no danger from Jacoba." (See, "The Crystal Skull" for the story of our adventurers in Xochilenque. That city's name is pronounced as, "Show-shay-LEN-kay." I created it by combining the name of the Aztec city of Xochimilco with the name of the Mayan city of Palenque.)

But after their Zanga friends left, Finn looked seriously at Veronica and loaded her rifle and her .38 revolver.

"What was that about?" asked Veronica as Finn set out the weapons near the beds that she and Veronica would share in Sa'eera's hut behind the king's own palace. (Sa'eera was summoned to her husband's bed that night, and offered her individual wife's hut to the visitors.)

"Just in case, Vee. I trust Sa'eera. But I don't really trust Jacoba. I'm beginning to be afraid. I wish that we hadn't stayed. Marguerite had the right idea. I'm not staying in this fleabag village again."

"Finn, I resent that. I was raised for most of my youth in this 'fleabag' village. It's really pretty clean. Certainly, by Indian standards. Here, take this basin and wash up. There's a towel on the table there." Veronica had just finshed washing from a similar basin, for the girls were sweaty after their performance.

Finn stripped and washed herself, but after she had dried, Veronica noticed that she put on her clothes, except for her boots, and she set these beside her rifle. She put her pack beside these items and put her beloved Zeiss binocular in its case in her pack, to have less to grab in event of a hasty departure.

"Why are you dressing, Nicole?" asked Veronica. "Are you planning on leaving suddenly?"

"Sim, Senhorita. (Finn's second tongue, used at one time as much as English, was Portuguese, as is the norm in Brazil.) And you'd better put on some clothes, too, Vee. I don't really think anything will happen, but we need to be ready to get the hell of here if anything starts."

"Nothing is going to start, Finnykins, as Marguerite would say. Sa'eera just told us that what Jacoba said was a joke. I believe her. Assai would have told me if she suspected anything."

Finn thought carefully, weighing Assai's and Sa'eera's personal loyalties to them against their loyalty to their tribe and king. She knew better than to tell Veronica, but she, Finn, wasn't totally sure of the Indian girls' loyalty to the two of them against their loyalty to the chief. Finn's attitude toward the Zanga was in reality more akin to Marguerite's than to Veronica's. A life lived in suspicion made it so. And she had racial reservations about the Indios, of all tribes.

"I'm sure that you're right, Vee," she said carefully. "But just to humor me, at least put on the bare minimum, and put the rest where you can grab it and dress fast, in case we have to leave."

"And what, Finn? Shoot our way out through my friends!?"

They talked a bit more before agreeing that probably, all would be well. Veronica tried to see Finn's position, although she was angry that Finn would imply that she might have to shoot people whom Veronica had known since she was a child. She tried hard to recall that Finn, though Anglo ancestrally, was brasileira, a Brazilian girl. But she had had little exposure to Indians, and much of what she would have heard wouldn't have been reassuring.

More to reassure Finn than because she thought it would be needed, Veronica found a piece of wood and blocked the door by lodging it in the recesses provided for that purpose. Probably, this was the first time that door had been locked since the Xingu had been defeated in their latest foray against the Zanga.

Veronica lifted the jug left with them and poured a drink of water and thought. She did feel exposed a bit. But she trusted Assai.

They talked more, and then blew out the lamp. By then, Veronica had calmed and Finn had apologized for her unease. "Vee, I can't help it. I don't really trust anyone in this world except for you and our own Treehouse family. I do finally trust Marguerite. That took a while. I think I trust Assai and Sa'eera. That's the best I can do. Try to think of my life before I came here. I'll never be really too trusting of most people."

Her tone was pleading and apologetic, and Veronica, for all of her pique, admitted that Finn was sincere. She reached across the foot of space that separated their beds and held Finn's hand. "Okay, 'Sis'. I forgive you. Stay dressed if it makes you feel better. But don't shoot anyone unless we see that it's a have-to thing. We probably couldn't fight our way out, anyway. I'll try to shame the Zanga into releasing us if Jacoba tries anything, and threaten them with George's potent bacterial warfare potential if we have to get tough. But nothing is going to happen. I know these people. The situation isn't right for that."

But she too, was somewhat relieved when, after a cordial breakfast the following morning, they were allowed to walk peacefully out of Jacoba's village.

CHAPTER FIVE

Dawn had hardly broken when Roxton summoned his companions.

"Gentlemen, we have to admit that something has happened, or the women would have been home by now. I propose that we eat and set out to find them. The sun will be fully up by then, and the sooner we locate them, the better."

"I concur," said Challenger. "Ned, will you agree to stay here? If they reach the Treehouse before we find them, one of them may be injured. They will need help."

"Why do I have to stay?" the American rejoined. "Don't you think that I'm as worried about Veronica as the two of you are about your ladies?"

"A good point, Ned," admitted Challenger. "But as leader of this expedition, I feel that I should seek them out, and John is better able to deal with some dangers than you are...somewhat, at least. And you are better equipped to administer to them if they get here first and need aid. You are a good medic, my lad, and you are sensitive and have a better feel for that than John and I have. Besides, you are Veronica's man, and this is her Treehouse. It is logically your place to stay. She will expect to find you here if she needs you."

This seemed somewhat convoluted thinking to Ned, but he reluctantly agreed to remain.

The men made a hasty meal, and then Challenger and Roxton gathered their favorite rifles and their packs, including emergency medical supplies, and went down in the elevator.

"Do you think we'll find them, John?" worried Challenger. Like Roxton and Malone, he had slept badly, deeply worried about Finn and the others.

"We'll find them, George," replied the tall Englishman. "If nothing else we'll see vultures or scavenger species of pterodactyls. That will lead us to them, in a worst case scenario. But I think it is more likely that one has just been injured, or Finn may have had maternal trouble. They may have stayed in the Zanga village. Xma'Klee may be treating her."

"Then, wouldn't he have sent a runner to tell us?"

Roxton reflected. "Maybe it was too late. He wouldn't have gotten here by dark. We may encounter one on the way today. I'm sure there's a good explanation."

"That's what worries me," admitted Challenger. "Most of the 'good' explanations are unpleasant ones."

CHAPTER SIX

Marguerite found a vine with water in it and managed to climb a slanted trunk to reach it in the next tree over. She took out her knife and cut a hole in the bottom and let a few drops seep out, hopefully carrying with them any small bugs or other debris that might have wound up in the hollow vine. Then, she let the vine drain its precious burden into her water bottle. She repeated the procedure three times, pausing to drink as she worked. Finally, she had drunk her fill and the water bottle was full to the brim.

She came back down the tree and sighted her compass on a NW course, the most likely to bring her within sight of the Treehouse...if she was lucky. Her knowledge of using a compass was rudimentary, but she did know to go in that direction.

She fretted that John wouldn't have had any word of either her or the other women, and he and all of the men would be frantic with worry.

Well, maybe not 'frantic', she corrected herself. It is hard to imagine John Roxton as being frantic. But he will be substantially concerned. She smiled. Maybe Ned Malone would be 'frantic". She laughed out loud at that, and felt better for it.

Marguerite found and ate some berries, washing them with the precious water from her canteen/water bottle. She would have to find additional vines with water or some other source that was pure, but the berries needed washing. There were no pesticides here, but dust and animal urine might be on them, or poison arrow frogs might have run across them, leaving their deadly sweat. Well, that was stretching matters, but Marguerite was feeling a little paranoid. She felt better about washing the berries.

They were good, resembling blackberries in temperate climes, and she was glad to have something in her stomach. But berries were not very filling, and she needed more nourishment.

The sun was higher now, and she decided to find the river. The one that she knew was nearby was fairly narrow, maybe 75 yards across on average, and maybe five to 12 feet deep except for deeper holes.

She worked her way through the jungle, eventually finding the river or a tributary. It looked serene, with no caimans or crocodiles in it. When she had first come here, she had thought that there were no crocodiles in South America. She had since learned about the American crocodile and that there was another large crocodilian further north, the Orinoco crocodile. They were big, 23 feet having been officially recorded, and they ate people. Some caimans were also very dangerous; the black caiman reaching at least 20 feet and being quite inclined to attack people if it was in the mood and saw a chance. Caimans were intermediate between alligators and crocodiles, and like most such large reptiles, might dine on the unwary. And there were snakes that swam, and prehistoric beasts. There were stingrays and electric eels. The wise didn't wade in rivers here without very carefully examining them. Alas, the water was often so opaque that one couldn't know what lurked in the depths. Most South Americans rivers so far north are muddy.

Fortunately, many on the Plateau were clearer, if usually greenish.

She found a fallen stick from a tree and used her knife to sharpen the end, making an improvised spear. With luck she could spear a fish, although this was harder than it sounded. She wished that she had included line in her gear, and she could have found bait and tried for fish that way. A hook of the "gorge" sort could be carved from wood or bone, had she had a better, sharper knife.

She was unable to find a shallow, clear pool where she could see fish, and gave up after an hour. Frustrated and worried now about food, she saw a young agouti watching her from the edge of the river. She drew the .38 Smith & Wesson and managed to kill it with one shot. It rushed into the river as it died, but the current brought it within reach of her spear, and she caught it and pulled it ashore.

Marguerite found a clearing some distance from the river and skinned the animal, which weighed about ten pounds. She quartered it and hung smaller pieces on sharp, green sticks over a small fire to cook. With luck, the cooking meat wouldn't draw predators or scavengers. It smelled wonderful, and she was ravenous.

She felt better now about her day, and really was quite proud of herself. Jungle Jane, that's me, she smirked. Even Roxton would be proud of me now.

After she ate, Marguerite took the remaining meat and hid it on a tree limb, hoping that nothing would find and eat it by evening. The meat might get a glaze on it that would prevent flies from contaminating it if she washed it well later. She saw no ants on the tree, thank goodness. She walked around, hoping to find anything familiar, like the long pool where she and the others swam, but to no avail.

Finally, she decided to strike off in the direction that she thought might lead to the Treehouse.

After an hour of paralleling the river, she found a pool that looked similar to the one that she sought. It was not that pool, but came close. The water was transparent enough to see the bottom, and nothing dangerous was in sight in the gin-clear water.

Marguerite was hot, tired, and angry at events and at her inability to overcome her frustration at being lost. She wanted a swim and she meant to have one.

She undressed and entered the water, keeping a wary eye out for crocodilians or snakes. Nothing... She submerged and swam across the pool and back several times, enjoying herself immensely. She tread water, recalling a similar occasion that had occurred soon after the expedition had first reached this horrible Plateau. She had been swimming thus when Lord Roxton had arrived to spy on her from behind a bush. When she had seen him, he had arrogantly, teasingly, lifted her camisole on the barrel of his rifle, giving her one of those cocky, smirky masculine grins. It had irritated her, but she had felt also a secret thrill in the pit of her stomach, something that she had suppressed as she engaged in barbed banter with the cocksure hunter.

Marguerite laughed now as she thought of how her relationship with Roxton had changed, Today, she would be delighted to see him show up on the shore, teasing her, looking so jauntily masculine! She colored at the thought of her man and what he now meant to her. She would now be happy to ask him to join her instead of being rude to him! Oh, how she missed John! If only he was here!

She walked out of the water and stood in the reeds at the edge, using her hands to stroke off the moisture that clung to her body.

When she had done this as well as she could, she used her shirt to finish drying, then smelled the sweaty garment. Ugh! she mentally exclaimed. She waded out a few feet and washed the blouse as best she could without soap. Wading ashore again, she hung it on the branches of a nearby bush to dry and shook out her skirt, flapping it to air it as best she could. Tossing the skirt over a low limb, she washed her white bikini panties and the matching bra, a pushup style designed by Finn and sewn by herself and Veronica. Marguerite usually sewed the more delicate portions of their lingerie by hand, with her blonde hostess and friend using her mother's sewing machine for most of the other work.

Marguerite hung the underwear over small branches to dry and decided to sun herself on a low, wide rock.

In time, she dozed, the day halcyon: the breeze mild, the sun temperate instead of the glaring heat of the morning. It was still very warm and she had no doubt that her clothes would dry before too long. She shifted slightly, lying on the blanket that she had bought in the Zanga bazaar.

She never knew precisely what woke her, but suddenly, she sat bolt upright, knowing with chilling certainty that danger was near. She looked around hastily, knowing that something evil and dangerous was close and was watching her.

Marguerite put on her hat and reached for her boots, pulling them on with alacrity. She slung her gun belt over her body and grabbed the rifle. Still nothing. Was she imagining things?

No. Now came a rapid slither through the jungle and the hoarse scream of a charging raptor dinosaur. It had hoped to cover the last 175 yards to her on the rock and seize her in its jaws before she woke.

Marguerite ran for all she was worth toward a slope that was clear of trees and brush, from which she could see what was after her and get a clear shot at it. She swept off the rifle safety and turned as she reached a patch of open ground. Recognizing the raptor, she led it in the sights so as to let the speeding animal run directly into her bullet. She saw it stagger at the shot, and pumped the bolt handle back and forth to reload and fired again into the snarling beast. It had no more than fallen than its mate charged at her from the left, and she pivoted, cycling the bolt to chamber a fresh cartridge. She shot three times before this thrashing raptor died, using all of the ammunition in the rifle. She needed more, but her pack was back at the rock where she had been sleeping.

On looking there, she saw a large crocodile within 20 feet of where she had lain! It had swum across the river and was feeding on the first raptor. The croc looked at her and growled. It had probably been stalking her and seen the raptor fall at her shots and decided to eat that instead of her. With it where it was, Marguerite couldn't even retrieve her clothes! She wondered whether it was really the crocodile that had awakened her sixth sense. She had probably barely avoided it when she ran from the raptors!

She swore softly and retreated to the cover of some bushes. Can this day possibly get any (bleeping!) better?! she demanded, not even concerned that she would sound like a parody of herself had anyone heard her. Furious, she crouched beneath a large fallen tree and cursed the luck that had led her to want to go home alone!

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? Marguerite 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 until the crocodile swam 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 pack 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, almost 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.

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 focused 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, sometimes 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. It was defimitely a ratel, not an eyra or some other similar animal native to South America.

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 this 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 later 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!

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 could 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, "A Night in the Lost World.")

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...

CHAPTER SEVEN

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 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.

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 expensive German 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 settled 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 silent thanks, afraid to insult or hurt Roxton by being vocally thankful that Finn was all right when Marguerite or Veronica might not be.

"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 us. 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 ocelot hide loincloth that Cuauhtémoc 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 for a girl."

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 let's just say that we spent the night with our friends, because we stayed too late shopping." Veronica was feeling rather self conscious about that now, and she wondered how prissy Ned might become.

"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."

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.

"Let's 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.

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 quality 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...

Challenger and Roxton were sobered by the sight of the Allosaurus 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 Allosaurus, 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 memento that he would have of her!

CHAPTER EIGHT

"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 excellent 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 hopelessly 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 fish line, 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 boulder 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 gorge 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, sometimes flaring off to the side. There were good reasons why they were normally hunted with shotguns, not pistols! But she had no gun bearer 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 direction, 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! She stacked rocks around the fire to keep it contained and to concentrate the heat.

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.

CHAPTER NINE

The other Treehouse dwellers stayed doggedly on the trail. They lost it several times, and 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 inability 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 devilish 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 emotionally 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, fruit, 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.

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 Marble's Ideal pattern with six-inch blade and stag antler handle that she'd recovered from the camp of the expedition that had perished from the effects of a demon. (See the episode, "Suspicion.") Veronica loved the knife, and had been wearing it in a finely made leather sheath on a belt made by Roxton since she had gotten it some months before. The blade shape was more that of a Bowie, better suiting it to multi-task use. Her dagger was mainly a weapon, still worn on her right boot.

Now, she thrust the knife into a thick vine, boring a hole. 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 painful 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. "Let's 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!"

CHAPTER TEN

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 with 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.

XXX

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 Finn 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 another's' 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 snug halter tops.

Roxton looked thoughtful, 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 there, 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 consciously.

"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 or embarrassment, she would swear not to again dance outside the Treehouse without getting his prior approval. She hoped this would get this out of his system. But he was likely to sulk and scold for awhile if he deemed it serious.

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 when they reached home.

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. 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 she probably really shouldn't have danced for other men while wearing so little. It could change the way Zanga men thought of the Treehouse 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, within reason. It made her more his. 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, looking down fondly at her.

She was delighted that he was so affectionate. But she might have to work at it now to get a spanking... Maybe if she waited a few days until this had blown over and it was no longer really a punishment issue, she could just introduce the idea as a bedtime game, normally the only reason why the big scientist took her over his knee, knowing that it aroused her. Many men then did indeed spank wives to discipline them, but it was not Challenger's usual solution to domestic difficulties. And Finn acknowledged the difference between a real spanking for punishment if she upset George enough and what she sometimes craved in fun and passion. She would actually be deeply embarrassed and remorseful if she warranted being spanked for cause. She would endure it if George so decreed, but was glad that they normally handled arguments or transgressions differently. In fact, she had never angered her mate enough that it had been an issue. Usually, a stern look from him or a hurt one was enough to elicit an apology from her and tension was dispelled. Finn was mature enough and considerate enough that the only time she had upset George was being careless once in the lab, and she had soon left that behind her. She found herself wanting his trust and his respect enough that she set out to earn them, and she had done that. The Zanga dance issue was the first to raise the question of how Challenger would deal with a serious indiscretion on her part. What really bothered Finn was a growing fear that more might be involved than the girls had thought about before performing.

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 issue over the dancing. Veronica rolled her eyes dramatically, and Roxton actually laughed. He hoped that Veronica 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. Thankfully, we have very few quarrels, compared to most married people, thought Veronica. Gad. Married. Well, we are, in all but name. I can't wait to see a priest or judge and get whatever rings he gives me on my finger, if I don't just use the ones I wear now. 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, hoping that they were moving in the direction from which they had heard the gun shot.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

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 people.

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 in the Zanga tongue. "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 conquer 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 really don't 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 the sound of the shot reached the ears of her friends, who knew well what a gunshot was, and it gave them an idea of where to look for her!

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. Poison was visible on its shaft.

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. The enemy clearly regarded her as being intellectually and physically inferior to men. Could she turn that ego issue in her favor?

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 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!"

XXX

Veronica paused and listened. "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 direction 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 snuggled 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.

XXX

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 pack 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 gun belt, 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?!

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, and 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 little 6.5mm, and probably was. It was too light for Roxton's rifles, unless maybe he had brought a .275 Rigby or a .303. 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. And her Mannlicher had a 4X Hensoldt telescopic sight that would let Finn make long shots more easily than if she had only iron sights.

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 an 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.

Roxton saw her running to him, set his rifle against a tree and opened his arms. Marguerite ran into them, almost jumping up and wrapping her legs around him as she had seen Finn do to Challenger after the women had escaped Avery Burton's clutches.

But Marguerite still had some shreds of dignity, and as they kissed like there was no tomorrow, she realized that she was hardly dressed to welcome guests. And Challenger was certainly getting an eyeful! Soon, the other women would arrive and tease her. She almost pulled away from her man, then thought, Oh, hell! I don't care who sees me in my underwear! I want John to know that I am so glad to see him that I would do this in Piccadilly Circus in front of thousands of bystanders if he wanted me to! Maybe in Trafalgar Square. Yes, I like the statue of Lord Nelson there, and the pigeons...

The thought of hugging and kissing Roxton in her lingerie in Trafalgar Square was too much, and she broke their embrace, giggling with relief and the thought.

She told Roxton why she was laughing. "I have to put on some clothes, John."

"Not just yet. I'm not done holding you and being glad that you're alive. Marguerite, are you hurt in any way? Did those Indian devils harm you?"

"No, but they had just forced me to surrender. I look like this because they told me to strip before I came out of that temple. When someone shot their man off of the roof, I changed my plans. Was that Finn? It sounded like her rifle, from what I could hear."

"Yes, she got up on some old tower and had a go at them. She was to shoot three times, then come, with Veronica. With no more targets for her, I daresay they will arrive at any moment, They have both been feeling very guilty for letting you leave the Zanga village alone. What on earth got into you, Madam? Did you not know that that would be dangerous? Have you any idea how much I have worried? I have been virtually beside myself, in agony that I might lose you!"

"I missed you pretty badly, too," she confessed. "Oh, John, I am SO glad to see you!" And she kissed him again, thinking furiously how she might devise an excuse for having travelled alone.

She heard someone whistle appreciatively, and broke her embrace for a moment to see her blonde friends walk up. Veronica had an arrow nocked in her bow, but Challenger told her that all of the enemy they knew about were dead.

"Nice outfit, Marguerite!" Veronica couldn't resist teasing her brunette friend. "Will you make me a bra like that? I love the way you sewed the lace on the cups!" And she broke out laughing. Finn stood by her, blushing and smiling, but said nothing, knowing how embarrassed Marguerite must be.

"Veronica, go into that temple, please, and bring out Marguerite's things. I think she is unwilling to break her embrace with John just now, so we will give them another moment together before she has to dress and behave civilly. Finn, come with me. I want to check that savage whom I shot. I am curious to see the effects of a .450 Nitro Express softnosed bullet on a man." Challenger knew that they had better get underway soon, before predators or other Indians came. And he wanted the Roxton couple to have some privacy.

When the others had gone about this business, Marguerite looked up at Roxton, who still held her close. "John, I love you, and I am so sorry that I have been the cause of all this trouble. Have you been looking for me for very long?" She looked anxiously into his face, hoping that he was not angry with her.

"Yes, Marguerite," he replied. "I have been looking for you for all of my life, and I mean to have you for the rest of my time on this earth. Now shut up and show me how well you can kiss, with your maximum effort. I happen to know that you were trained to make love in a harem where failure to please your master was not an option. And I mean to profit from that training!" He chuckled and pulled her to him, her body pressing into his so forcefully that he thought that they might merge. Their spirits soon did merge, and neither paid any attention to anything until Veronica stood next to them, noisily clearing her throat until they finally registered the sound and looked at her. Marguerite's face went scarlet as she saw her friend holding out her clothing with a wide grin on her face. "Sunbathing time is over, Marguerite. Put on some clothes and pretend to be a lady!"

Roxton smiled and did not release Marguerite as she tried to turn and get her clothing. His hands clasped her bottom, and began playing with her flesh through the thin, silky fabric of the panties. She felt a rush of adrenaline, and goose bumps rose on her skin in spite of her efforts to suppress them.

"Veronica, the only kind of lady she has to be is Lady Roxton, as soon as I can get her to a church. Maybe we should build a small ship, with Challenger as the captain. We could launch it on the Inland Sea and have George marry us. Can't ships' captains do that?" He reached down and nuzzled Marguerite's nose with his, and her knees went all weak.

Ohmigosh, she thought. I am actually going wet inside, hardly able to stand, and wanting John to carry me into that temple, spiders and all, and do whatever he wants to me. And I have a pretty good idea what that might be! And if he does that, I may just be wanton enough to do precisely what he chooses, because I lust for it at least as much as he must. I have become shameless in my love!" She reddened; humiliated at the knowledge that Veronica probably knew exactly what was on her mind.

Veronica did know, and she looked down, her own blush deepening. "Uh, hey, you two. I think I'll just leave these clothes on this log, and go see what George and Finn are doing. I want to take some of those feathers from the dead guys' heads, too, to show Jacoba that the Wariru have trespassed here and tried to capture Marguerite. Oh: your gun belt is here, too. Don't forget to reload that .38." And she placed these items on the log and walked quickly away, desire for Ned rising in her as she thought about what she absolutely knew that John and Marguerite were contemplating. She hoped that Ned would not be so angry at her dancing for Jacoba that he would refuse her his embrace, and much more.

George Challenger stood looking down at the dead Indian who had tried to shoot Marguerite with his bow as he lay on the ground, lamed by her revolver. The effect that a softnosed .450 bullet made on a man was considerable, he saw. Both shoulders had been broken, and the neck, held at an awkward angle as the man had tried to operate his bow in that position, had possibly been broken by the force of the 480 grain bullet impacting. Everything inside between the shoulders was ruined, and bits of bone and bullet had probably been sprayed down into his lungs and heart. The far arm had been blown almost off of the body.

"I suppose that I shouldn't be surprised at how devastating this was," he murmured. "Roxton told me that he has used .450 rifles with great success on Cape buffalo, rhino, even elephant. I think I'm using too much gun. Still, I had to bring something that might be able to stop a dinosaur."

"Genius, when you do something, you do it thoroughly, whether it's in the lab, or this, or having me in bed," Finn looked with shock and disgust at the evidence of the bullet's passage. "Come on." She took Challenger's hand, her own rifle now slung from her shoulder. "Let's go over and see the ones that I shot, too."

"Darling, you needn't do that. I'll go, and I'm sure that they are quite dead. I saw Marguerite finish off one with her revolver."

"George, I have to look. If I can't look at what my bullets do, it may get to be too easy to shoot people from a distance. I don't want that on my conscience. I want to hate that I had to do it. Shooting game is one thing: we need the meat. And someday, you, Mr. Rich Professor, are going to take me to Africa and to India, where I will shoot lions and tigers and all sorts of antelope to get rugs and head mounts for the den of the house that we will have in Britain. But shooting people is different, and I want it to be. I couldn't be me if I got to be casual about it. I've known people who did. I didn't like them very much. Now, let's go see what my little Mannlicher did today."

They walked over to the dead Indians, turning the one who had fallen from the roof to better see the entry wound.

"Looks like I got him right in the solar plexus, like I wanted to," Finn remarked. "Excuse me, Lover. I think I'm going to be sick." She staggered over to a wall and leaned on it, her stomach heaving.

Nothing actually came up, and she stood, gasping as she tried to recover control. Challenger went over, set his rifle aside, and stroked her hair and shoulders. She took his hand and buried her face in his chest. After a moment, she broke the embrace, reaching for her canteen. "I need a drink. I feel acid bile trying to get up my throat," she gasped, and drank. After a few swallows, she shook the canteen. "We need more water soon," she mentioned, trying to get her mind off of the killing and the terror that she had felt for Marguerite.

"I know where some is," said Veronica. She held Finn to her. "Poor baby. I don't like killing, either. The only way to deal with this is to remember that if you hadn't shot those men, they might have killed Marguerite. For all of her faults, she is like family to us, and I shudder to think of how her death or loss would have affected John. I don't know how well he would handle that. You did what you had to do, and you did it well, Nicole. George, hold her while I go break up the lovebirds. We need to get out of here before unwelcome guests arrive. Look." She pointed at the sky above, where vultures and scavenger pterodactyls were already swirling in endless circles.

Veronica walked over to the Roxtons and slapped Marguerite on the butt, fairly forcefully. "Hey, Marguerite! Quit acting like a slut in public and get dressed. Scavengers are already gathered above and raptors or other dinos will be here soon, or big cats."

Roxton looked at her a bit testily. "Veronica, if Marguerite needs her bottom slapped, I will attend to that, myself. I feel rather proprietary about her. But you are right, of course. Marguerite, hand me the gun and put your clothes on. I'll reload the .38 while you dress." The Roxtons kissed a final time, and broke their embrace, John trailing a hand along her waist as Marguerite turned. The touch of his fingers was like electricity to her, and she longed to be back in their room at the Treehouse where they could finish what they had started.

Soon, they were ready, packs on, things gathered, Veronica putting the blue macaw feathers from the dead men's headdresses into her arrow quiver. Later that week, Assai was due to visit, and she could take home the evidence of the Wariru intrusion, that her Royal father might see it. She would alert him by drum signal in the meantime.

They set out, Veronica guiding them on a shortcut to their home, now that she had seen where they were. She knew this jungle well, although it had been baffling to Marguerite, who had never come this way before.

CHAPTER TWELVE

As they trekked homeward, Veronica noticed that the Challengers walked side- by- side when the trail was wide enough and sometimes held hands, their fingers intertwined. They often looked at each other, and twice, they paused to kiss. She almost bumped into them once as they turned sideways, openly embracing, kissing, and not caring who saw. The tension of the past two days must have affected George and Finn as much as it had John and Marguerite. If George is that glad to see her, Finn may not be getting spanked for dancing, after all, she mused, and grinned at the thought. I just hope that Ned isn't going to lecture me and give me the cold shoulder for a week over that. I really should have used better judgement. But I see how Finn gets off on guys looking at her. It was sort of fun! And she smiled at the memory of the faces of the men in the audience in that hut. It certainly made me feel like a real, desirable woman, and not an untamed jungle beauty, she realized. Mr. Ned Malone has done a pretty good job of taming me, once I realized just how much I care for him. Oh, I hope he isn't too upset with me! Dancing for the Zanga men is bad enough; almost losing Marguerite is even worse!

"Hey!" she called to John Roxton and his lady. "You two pay attention to something besides each other! There are snakes here, and centipedes. Watch where you're going!"

After stopping to draw water from a clear pool, they funneled it through a new device that Challenger called an activated charcoal filter. They then treated it with iodine to further insure its purity. They filled all canteens and had a snack, eating under cover, where any remaining Wariru scouts would be unlikely to see them.

The group finally arrived home about four PM, to find Ned Malone rather agitated.

"Ned, we would have signaled, but we were never in a place from which we could heliograph to you with mirrors, " Roxton apologized.

Ned accepted this grumpily, but believed it. "I have dinner laid out and can have it ready in less than an hour," he announced. "A couple of you come into the kitchen with me and tell me just what the hell has been going on. Veronica, are you sure that you're all right?" He looked at his love anxiously.

"Veronica can confess all to you," declared Marguerite. "I am going to take a shower. Coming, John? I need someone to wash my back, and you can manage simple tasks like that nicely when you try really hard." She smirked at him. He reached over and jerked her playfully by the hair and they walked off toward their room, arms around each other.

"Well?" demanded Malone.

"Darling, we should join Ned at the table with Veronica and tell him all. I feel sure that he has been in agony the whole time that we have been gone. I know how I felt last night worrying about you! The least we can do is to tell Ned what all occurred." Challenger looked at Finn, who nodded, and let him lead her to the dining table.

Coffee served, Ned sat attentively as they told him what had happened to Marguerite and why. "And you two just let her go home alone, on her own?" Malone marveled when they were done. He cast an incredulous look at the blonde girls.

"Ned, she is rather, ah, persuasive, when she really wants her way," mentioned Challenger.

"That's not really an excuse, George, and we all know it. You two should have made her listen to reason, somehow. Veronica, you in particular, know how dangerous that jungle can be if she got off of the trail. For her, that's probably not too hard to do, especially if she followed another game path by mistake. And, those Indians! Things are supposed to be peaceful now, but there are always renegades and slavers who may come this far onto Zanga lands. I have to say that I am disappointed in you girls."

Veronica looked at Finn. They studied one another's faces while Challenger made a show of looking into his coffee cup, trying not to make eye contact with anyone.

"What?" Ned demanded. "There's more?"

"Tell him, Vee," Finn said. "He has a right to know, and he needs to hear it from you. I'll fill in the gaps, and share in the blame."

Veronica looked at Ned and took his hand shyly. "We- Finn and me - we, ah, sort of danced for some Zanga men."

Ned sat up straighter and gave her a stern look. "How do you 'sort of' dance? For just who, and how?"

"Like we dance here, basically. And they had their wives and daughters with them. Some of them. But mainly, we did it to please Jacoba. He thought we were really good. He had Assai and Sa'eera tell us later."

"Jacoba. I think I'm beginning to see what happened." Ned looked closely at Veronica. "And just what did you charming ladies wear while you danced in this Royal performance?"

"Pretty much what we do here. I had on this really pretty lavender loincloth and bra with a matching sarong. There were flowers, white ones, on the lavender background. Finn had on a dark green outfit very like the one she has here."

"Yeah, Vee looked really great," contributed Finn. "She had this white flower in her hair, too. She looked really good."

"You two danced for these Indians, including Jacoba, while wearing that little? And I bet that the sarongs came off, too?" He raised his eyebrows.

Finn looked at Veronica and they looked at Ned and nodded. "Ned, Ta'leea and another Royal wife joined us and some other girls. It wasn't just Finn and me..."

"But that jolly little group did include you two. In tops and loincloths as brief as those you wear here? Is that correct?"

"Ned." interjected Challenger, "They did say that Jacoba had the Great Wife prepare a special feast and he invited Xma'Klee and some other dignitaries. It would have been rude to refuse his hospitality." Challenger had his own reservations, but decided to try to bail out Veronica with her man as best he could.

"Oh, I don't especially mind them having dinner there," Ned remonstrated. "What I'm having a little trouble understanding is why two supposedly intelligent women like ours thought it was a good idea to take off their clothes and gyrate for that man and a bunch of his cronies. Might that not cause them to see white girls differently, and maybe renew his lust toward Veronica? Did he do anything?"

No," said Veronica, "but Finn was anxious later and got dressed when we were back in our guest hut. I'd kind of thought about that by then too, but Ned, I grew up there. People there know me. Nothing was likely to happen."

"Like nothing was going to happen when Marguerite traded you to him when we first got here, huh? What almost happened then, Veronica?" Ned's face was going redder and he was tight-lipped, clearly not pleased.

Voices were raised, and painful things were said. Finally, Challenger insisted that Ned think the matter over, and that the Malones continue their discussion later in private.

"Let's cook and eat dinner and cool off for now," he suggested. "Perhaps we should have a family meeting about this when we eat, or the couples involved can reach their own decisions. But this was serious, and it affected all of us. Bad decisions were made."

They agreed to begin dinner, which Ned had laid out, and Finn and Veronica shooed the men out of the kitchen. They set them up in the living room with second cups of coffee and honey cakes to tide them over until dinner was ready.

"Whew! That's that, for now, at least," breathed Veronica with relief. "By the time they talk awhile, maybe they'll cool off, and getting those cakes into them will get them in a better mood. How upset is George? You two seemed very friendly on the trail home."

"Yes," Finn said carefully. She seemed nervous and fidgeted as she helped set out plates on the table and started the cooking.

"Well?" asked Veronica. "What's wrong?"

"George was very supportive about finding us alive and getting Marguerite back from those Indians safely. He was so glad that he didn't say too much about what happened in the village. Just that we needed to talk later and that it was obvious that you and I had screwed up. Of course, he phrased it nicer. But he is angry; I can tell. I know him. And I know that he's right: I did disappoint him and did something thoughtless and careless. Our letting Marguerite go home on her own was irresponsible. I feel pretty guilty."

"Finn, neither of us could have argued successfully with Marguerite when her mind was made up. You know that. Even Roxton knows that. And I really saw no problem in dancing for Jacoba. You were hesitant, and I talked you into it. Well, Assai, Sa'eera, and I did. I'll tell George that it wasn't your idea."

"Thanks, Vee. But I did go along with it, and I had fun until I thought about it later, after I saw Jacoba's face while he looked at us. Especially at you."

"Well, what's done is done. I think we should ask Assai about it when she and Sa'eera come day after tomorrow."

A freshly bathed Lord Roxton stuck his head into the kitchen and asked whether Veronica had sent a drum signal to the Zanga telling them that Marguerite had been found and that all was well. "Did you warn them about those other Indians?" he wanted to know.

Finn and Veronica looked at one another in shock. "Oh, John, thank you!," said Veronica. "Ned and I got into an argument, and I completely forgot to do that. I'll go use the drum now." And she did.

Dinner went better than any of them had expected, but there was no question that all of the men were unhappy about the dance in the village. It went without saying that the issue of Marguerite travelling on her own was another sore point. No one thought very highly of that, including Marguerite herself, now.

She apologized to all of them, saying to the other women that she should have listened to them when they had tried to dissuade her. She was as embarrassed over this indiscretion as were the other girls over their dancing. For Marguerite, this was something of an event, for she usually defended herself vigorously against any criticism.

Roxton was visibly upset, but so glad that she was safe that he wasn't as vituperative as everyone had expected. On the trail home, he had told her pretty frankly that she was rash to have taken that approach. But once he had scolded her and asked what in the devil she had been thinking, they had quickly made up after her apology. She now repeated this to all of them, for all had had to share Roxton's anxiety and participate in the search for her, and fight the Indians. Even Ned Malone had had to bear the burden of not knowing where she was or if she was alive, or what had become of his own woman and Finn. All because Marguerite had insisted on going off by herself! (Well, truthfully, the blondes were to blame for staying behind. That was not Marguerite's doing. Indeed, she was the only one to leave the village on time.)

"At least, when I mess up, I manage to do a colossal job of it," she said in a contrite voice.

Roxton took her hand and smiled at her, and she squeezed his hand back and told him with her large, expressive eyes how much he meant to her.

Tell me something, Marguerite," asked Ned. "If you had stayed with the Zanga that night, would you have danced for them? You usually have good sense and highly honed survival instincts. The social kind of instincts, not the jungle competence sort. Would YOU be concerned that Jacoba might turn out to have ulterior motives? That he might just seize all of you ladies and come kill off us guys, so that he could keep you?"

She thought carefully before answering. "Ned, that might go either way. Without actually being there and assessing the situation in person, I can't be certain. But, yes, I would have reservations. I've taught Sa'eera, Assai, and a couple of his other women to dance, and not been too uneasy, especially when I teach them here, on our ground. But to undress and perform in front of Jacoba himself...that would leave me uneasy. He has an enormous amount of power, is moody, and somewhat unstable. And he likes getting his way.

"On the other hand," she continued, "the Zanga do not practice actual slavery, unlike many other peoples on this Plateau. So, his holding us would fly in the face of tribal tradition, even of Zanga law. Xma'Klee, Assai, and others would probably try to convince him that his actions were improper. I'd like to think they'd succeed, and this seems to be exactly what happened after he made the remark about keeping the girls. I think he may have been assessing his nobles' reaction, and that of their women who attended. When he saw that what he said had a negative effect on everyone, he pretended that he was joking. Yes, I think that is what really happened."

Veronica shuddered. "That is so scary! He is such a despot! He might have just decided to overrule his elders and the women and grab us."

"And, Honey," noted Malone, "if he had gone that route, he would have almost had to send war parties to the Treehouse to kill us guys so that we couldn't come try to take our women back. That is why this thing is so serious. Do you see now why George, John, and I are so mad?"

Veronica nodded meekly. "I'm sorry, Neddy. I was stupid. I just assumed that the Zanga know me and that they wouldn't accept that. But if he had really wanted to...he probably could have done it. He could keep us girls locked in a spare hut and make us behave the way he wanted by threatening one of us to force the others to do his bidding! Okay, I apologize to everyone and especially to Finn for putting her at risk. And to Ned and the other men for risking their lives. Can you all forgive me?"

"Vee, there is nothing to forgive. You just misread the situation, and it did work out all right." Finn was quick to defend her best friend. "If you hadn't offered us all shelter here, and taught us how to cope in this unforgiving place, we'd probably all be dead by now."

"You can say that again," intoned Challenger. "Veronica, we are all in your debt, many times over. But you ladies must not do that again without us all conferring and seeing the situation at the time, and with the men present. And I think I will ask Xma'Klee to slip the word to Jacoba that Marguerite is a powerful sorceress and that I have great powers to send a plague against his people if we are menaced. But subtly. I don't want to threaten Jacoba outright; that would just trip his emotional trigger. In that case, we might suddenly be in very grave danger. He has his pride and his public image to maintain, and working behind the scenes and cautiously will bear fruit, I think. He will be warned in a way that he can accept."

Finn noticed that Challenger had been eating heartily, for he had worked up an appetite from all the walking of the day.

"More potatoes, Genius?" she asked, rising to take his plate.

"Thank you, Finn, but I will get them myself," he said, with noticeable stiffness.

She looked shocked and everyone registered what was happening. "George, I messed up, and really badly. But am I or am I not still your woman?"

"Well, yes, come to that, you are," he gruffly conceded. "But I must say, Darling, I am rather vexed with you at the moment." He looked away from her and she saw that he was angrier than she had realized.

"Uh, oh," she thought. "Veronica and I really put our feet in the doggy doo doo this time." She was scared inside, more than ever before, for her relationship with Challenger. He wouldn't reject her, she knew that, but she was in for a rough time for awhile.

Everyone sensed this and shifted uncomfortably.

"George, "Finn continued, "I am your woman even if I am in the figurative doghouse for now. But I love you and I want to serve you like always. Please let me refill your plate. It means a lot to me to take care of you. If you want to punish me later, okay. I know that I deserve whatever you decide to do. I will make a point of bringing a paddle from the ping-pong table upstairs later tonight so that you can whack my cute little butt with it like I know that I have coming. But for now, I am yours and I deserve the right to care for you. I almost never get out of line and I love you. Please?" And she looked at him so pleadingly that Challenger was almost moved to tears by her devotion.

"Well, ah, um, Finn...Yes, thank you. I will have more potatoes, and gravy, too, please, and some more of the turkey. And coffee. And thank you for offering." He passed her his plate which she took with alacrity.

"Honey, I can use more turkey, too," said Ned Malone. "And coffee. Do you want help? Does anyone else want anything?"

The Roxtons shook their heads, looking at each other, then down at the table as they reflected on what they had just heard.

Veronica got Ned's plate and joined Finn in the kitchen.

"My gosh, Finnykins, that was really something! You made quite an impression on George. I could see how he was moved by that little speech. It was so wonderful of you to say that! You must really love him, even more than we all knew!"

"I fucked up royally, Vee, and so did you. The least that I can do is to offer to take my punishment like a responsible woman and ask my man's forgiveness, and to let me take care of him like is my duty. That will at least help us to heal, as a couple. I am carrying George's child, and I have an obligation not to risk what we have here just because my vanity and my desire for some fun went to my head in that village. I enjoyed it so much until I really looked at Jacoba's face that I feel especially guilty." She colored slightly in shame and made a point of concentrating on getting Challenger's food and coffee ready.

Veronica reached over and touched Finn's shoulder. "Nicole, you're right. We did goof up. Just how bad has only just now really hit me. The boys could all have been killed if things had gone the wrong way. I shouldn't have talked back to Ned the way that I did earlier, let alone forgotten to use the signal drum to tell the Zanga that Marguerite was all right and that the Wariru might have other warriors nearby."

Finn smiled wanly, and leaned over and kissed Veronica on the shoulder. "I still love you, Vee. Like Marguerite said, if we Treehouse women get into trouble, we do a colossal job of it. Here: put some more gravy on Ned's turkey. You know how he likes that."

Veronica added gravy to the turkey and both girls started back toward the dining table, Veronica carrying the coffee pot.

"Finn," she said and looked her friend in the eye as she turned. "I've reached a decision. There are two paddles on that ping pong table and I am going to offer the other one to Ned to use on me later tonight. Don't tell anyone. I think we should keep it between Neddy and me, and you. Tell me tomorrow how hard George spanked you. I'll confess to you, too. At least, we can share our misery." She smiled ruefully, and Finn grinned back, a little happier now.

Following dinner and a dessert of orange slices and more honey cake, the Roxtons and the Challengers began cleaning up.

"We'll get the kitchen, you two," Roxton said to the Malones. "It's our turn, anyway, and you have things to discuss in private."

Marguerite nodded and kissed Veronica and squeezed her shoulder comfortingly. Finn kissed Ned in a sisterly fashion and apologized to him for the distress that he had undergone during the recent trouble. He smiled his appreciation and took her hand briefly before he led Veronica away from the table.

As they neared the stairs, Veronica veered off and headed for the den, where the ping pong table was located.

Ned pulled her back and said, "Where do you think you're going?"

"To get one of those paddles that Finn mentioned," she said. "Oh, I guess that I forgot to tell you. Finn is right: she and I both deserve a spanking, and if she is getting that, I certainly need the same. It was me who talked her into dancing. She just went along with it. Wait here, Ned. I'll be right back with the instrument of my punishment. And I am so sorry that I truly deserve it." She gave him a sad smile and turned again toward the den.

"No," he said, and took her hand. "It's up to me to decide your punishment, and someday, I may spank you if the situation seems to call for that. This does, but I sense that it isn't the best answer for us. We aren't the Challengers. That may be best for them, but that couple is operating on at least three different levels. They're really complex. What we have is more simple and equal. And I will think of a suitable punishment that fits our relationship. Give me an hour or so, and I'll come up with something."

She looked anxiously at him. "Neddy, are you sure? I really don't mind taking off my loincloth and getting over your lap while you use that paddle on me. I feel terribly responsible to you over this, and I'd much rather get paddled and have you stay with me in our bed tonight than have you take a blanket and come down to the den and sulk by yourself because you're mad at me. Really. I swear." She squeezed his hand reassuringly, searching his face with her eyes.

"I'm sure," he said. "Let's go on up to our room and I'll think of some way to punish you without that. And I want to tell you about George and Finn and how they function as a couple."

In their room, Veronica pulled over a chair and Ned sat in it as she sat opposite him on the bed. "Okay, tell me about George and Finn and how they function on three levels. How can that be? They each seem to me to have just one head and one body."

"Take off your boots. In fact, take the rest off. I want to stare at you while I talk." Ned loved looking at Veronica, and no longer cared who knew.

When she was ready, he took one of her legs and massaged it gently as she sighed in pleasure. Well, he's not quite as mad as he was, she rejoiced internally. But he is up to something. I might find that I'd rather have been paddled, after all... "Ummm... that feels wonderful. Do the other leg when you're done, Ned. Please?"

"Not to worry, as our housemates say," he told her. "Give me awhile, and I'll rub every spot on you. It helps take the tension and stress out of both of us."

"Oh, how true! Anyway, about George and Finn..."

"Oh, yeah: them. Well, first of all, they're man and woman, like any couple, right? He is older, but that happens sometimes, especially when the man has more money or a secure position and fame.

"Then, they have this almost father and daughter thing going on. He represents the dad she can't remember having ever had. He fills an emotional need for her, and cherishes her and teaches her, and he was her rescuer in New Amazonia. He became the main man for her, the first to see her as she is and love her, and tell her that she isn't to blame for having been a penniless orphan who had to do some iffy things to get by. He loved her still, unconditionally, after they got acquainted, and she felt that, and it hit her like a ton of bricks, to coin a term. Okay, that's trite, but you know what I mean.

"Then, he is the world famous scientist, one of the foremost brains and talents of our day. He's pretty impressed with himself, even if he has become more modest by far than he was when we got here. He's good, and he knows it. That level of confidence is infectious, and it impresses women, especially when they know that he has money and renown to back it up. He's a little larger than life to her: teacher, researcher, scientific giant who will go down in history! And if she is his woman, maybe she, too, will have her name in history books and biographies. That means a lot to Finn, who has a self esteem problem. She's as bold as brass on one level, but inside, she's hurting, wanting to be loved and accepted and desired for more than just her body, which has always attracted guys. But the inner 'her' had never really been nourished until she realized that George cared for her and wanted to help her learn about the world and how to get by in it. And he takes care of her. He shelters and protects and listens to her and puts her on that danged wooden pedestal. She acts embarrassed when he does that and brags about her, but she relishes it, too. It fulfills her and makes her think that she's okay, after all, and pretty special. At least, special to him."

Veronica interrupted. "I see where you're going, Ned. May I turn around and get my back and neck done?"

"Yeah. You want to sit like that, or lie down?"

Veronica lay along the edge of the bed, and he resumed massaging her, making the tightness leave her, physically and emotionally. She almost purred with happiness.

Ned continued. "So, George is larger than life to Finn in all of these ways, except maybe for the basic man-woman deal. And even there, he's older and more confident and sheltering. She's younger, feels secure emotionally for the first time in her life, and knows that he adores her. And he is probably going to be a famous inventor who can give her and their children a very secure future. Because she doesn't even have a birth certificate, let alone a high school diploma, she's between a rock and a hard place if she leaves this Plateau without him. He will look out for her and give her status, but she craves even more knowing that he does truly love her and wants the absolute best for her. And he tells her that she is the absolute best for him. That gets to her. She loves it!

"You've heard her bragging about how they have the love affair of all time? I think she isn't kidding or just bragging. I think Finn really believes that, and she just may be right. No, don't roll over and ask me about us. You know what I mean, and I'm talking about this from Finn's viewpoint."

"But what about us?" demanded Veronica. She did roll over and look at him, plumbing the depths of his heart.

He leaned down and kissed her. "Baby, I love you with all of my heart and soul, and I damned nearly had a heart attack worrying about you while you were off dancing for that creep Jacoba! Now, let me finish." An idea occurred to him and he showed her a wicked grin. "Vee, I think I just decided how to punish you. And you have it coming."

"How?" She hated that he must have heard the quaver in her voice.

"It's a secret for now. I want to think this over while we talk. I'll tell you in a few minutes. Back to the Challengers."

"Ned, wait: you were going to tell me why she should get spanked, or probably would, and I won't, for doing the same thing! Where is the difference between doing what I did and her doing that?"

"I was coming to that, Veronica. Hold on for a few minutes, and you'll know all from Dr. Ned, boy shrink. I actually did study psychology some in college, so I know this stuff. Anyway, here's Finn with her self image and some esteem problems, although she's come a long way. And here's Challenger, man of the world and provider/protector for her. He has the strong male role image, and she is the female subordinate, admiring the great man on the mental pedestal where she has him. And that mental pedestal she sees him on is probably quite a bit taller than the real pedestal that he sets her on in their room. She thinks the world of him; you've heard them arguing which of them the very sun rises and sets on." He grinned and shook his head ruefully. "I used to wish that girls would see me the way that she does George. Or, better yet, the way they see John Roxton. I just am not large enough to trigger that reaction in them, I guess."

She rolled over and stood, pulling Malone from his chair and into her arms.

"Ned Malone, don't say another word like that. You are about my height physically, but you are as tall as you need to be in my heart. When you and Finn risked your lives to save me in Xochilenque, I was thrilled to see how well you dealt with those Tecamaya guards and got me out of that cage and back home."

Ned looked down, a little crestfallen. "It was Finn and her little red -handled Swiss pocketknife with the saw blade on it that got you out of that cage. And it was her who handed me that ring and told me to put it on your finger. I was trying to work up the courage to ask. I didn't know for sure if you'd marry me."

"But, Ned, I accepted that ring, and with it your love, authority, and protection. I have always taken care of myself, and I still can. But I have you for that now, and I yield to you when only one of us is needed to deal with some problem. That has let me flourish as a woman. I feel more secure inside and I love waking up next to you. You may not be as physically large as George or John, but you are as tall as I need. And I don't have to wait for you to lean down and kiss me. I can just reach across and kiss you on the same level. See the advantages of being your height?" She smiled and showed him what she meant.

When they came up for air, he held her and told her how much she meant to him.

Veronica pulled his shirt out and asked again why Finn should need spanking and she, Veronica, shouldn't. She reached under his shirt and pulled her fingernails gently along Ned's chest and he moaned and kissed her cheek and began playing with her hair.

"Finn sees George as taller than life. He is a he-man, a big guy, inside and out. And he is the man to whom she feels responsible, the one who loves and will care for her. On one level, she is still a teenage daughter who wants to know that she has to mind Daddy. She used to be a smart alec, but she wants really to feel that George is sort of a parent as well as her guy. She missed having a dad, remember, and he fills that role for her. She bends over backward to nurture him in return, and lets him be the authority male in her life. She wants to belong, to feel that she has to report to some man who looks after her and will discipline her if she strays too much. It gives her security to know that he will act if she wanders too far from what they see as proper. She almost never does, but she likes knowing that there are limits for her, and that she will be taken to task if she is too careless or disobedient. Because she feels deep inside that she is his and has to please him to please them! And she just about worships him, so they are not really equal, despite how much freedom he gives her and how much he values her opinion.

"With us," he went on," it is different. We are more equal. You are more equal than I am in some ways. You know where the edible plants and animals are here, and how to get them. You intercede for us with the Zanga. We live in your home that is our home only because I am your man. I am more modern than George. He really does feel that he should be in charge in marriage, however benevolent he is. And Finn wants him that way. I'll be the man of the household, because that is the natural order of things, I really believe. I'm glad that you seem to want it that way, too. But I am less likely to discipline you physically than George is Finn, because I don't have the daddy/daughter issue as well as the husband/wife one. I'm only a few years older than you, too. And we're just more equal in our outlook on one another. George and John are more traditional men, who insist on being in charge in their relationships. Is this making sense?"

"You always make sense, Mr. Malone. And I hadn't thought of it that way, but you are probably dead-on right. I just love Finn to pieces. She is almost the sister that I always lacked. But I know how she thinks, and you're right about her. Is their relationship healthy? Do you think that those two will last, especially if they leave the Plateau? She's just 23 and George is in his fifties!"

"Oh yeah, Baby! They are just what she says: the romance of all time, at least for two people like they are. The only way they are going to split up is when one of them dies, and the other will be grief stricken for a long time. I guess that George will die first, so I hope that Finn has older children to be with her and get her through it when she becomes a widow.

"So much for the Challengers. They're terrific friends and we rely on them a lot. But it's you whom I mainly rely on. And I'm ready to tell you which punishment I've decided on for you. Remember, you have this coming!"

"Yes, Ned. Whatever you think is appropriate, I'm sure that I'll comply with. I feel like I really let you down, and I just never thought where performing for the Zanga could lead. So, how much trouble am I in? What are you going to do to me?" She bit her lower lip, afraid to hear what he had chosen for her fate.

When he told her, she stared at him, speechless. When she found her voice a few seconds later, she mumbled. "That? You want me to do THAT?!"

"I damned sure do. You said that you'd do what I said! Now, you know what you have to do to get out of the doghouse with me. I think you're getting off pretty lightly, don't you? Really?"

Veronica nodded. "Yes, Neddy. I'll do it then, starting right after lunch tomorrow. Now, turn off the light and take me to bed. I'm exhausted, and I'll need my rest to get through the next day."

CHAPTER 13

The Roxtons and the Challengers finished cleaning the kitchen and the table and bade one another good night. Finn and George told their friends how glad they were that Marguerite was safe and had been saved from the Wariru Indians.

"Do you fancy that we have seen the last of those varlets?" Challenger asked Roxton. "I keep wondering whether there are more nearby."

"If so, they must have been separated from that group that we killed. I checked around that temple where Marguerite was hiding and on the back trail of those fellows, and saw no tracks to indicate that there were more than the four whom we found." Roxton was confident of his tracking skills, developed and honed in Africa long before he had come to this Plateau. "One good thing about the Indians on this plateau is that few will attack at night: they're too afraid of spirits that live in the darkness as well as the animals. And those who may have been with that group don't know where we went. They don't even know who or what killed those rascals."

"Well, that is a relief! Now, if you will excuse us, we are very tired, and I think that I will take Finn up to bed. Coming, Darling?"

Finn took his hand, smiled back at John and Marguerite and let Challenger lead her to the stairs.

Once in their room, she undressed and said little as she took his clothes and hung them in the closet, smoothing down his trousers so that they would wrinkle less. Her face showed her concentration and apprehension.

Finally, she went to stand before Challenger as he sat on the bed.

"Okay, let's get this over with. Do you want me to bring you a belt, or are you going to hand - spank me? I forgot to get that paddle from the den. I can put on a robe and go after it, if you really want. How mad at me are you?"

Mad enough," he told her. "But do you fully understand why, Finn?"

"Yes, Sir. I was stupid. Vee and I didn't think that Jacoba and some of those other Zanga guys would look at us that way. It was fun until I saw that. Then, it scared me. But, George, I swear that I had no intention of defying you or embarrassing you, or putting you men in jeopardy. The idea that they might grab us and go after you never crossed my mind. I guess that it should have.

"Anyway, I'll never do that again, I swear! Unless I have your permission and you're there. And I am so sorry that we let Marguerite take off alone. But she can be very persuasive..."

"I know Marguerite, Finn. I only somewhat blame you and Veronica for that. Marguerite is very determined, and I'm sure that she explained things well to get you other girls to stay. And you and Veronica do have a certain female vanity that I feel sure led to your agreeing to perform.

"Actually," he continued, "I understand that well, and it is a part of the makeup of most attractive ladies. You like being admired. But I am jealous of who gets to see that much of you, and see you move that way! If I did not love you and deem you to be mine, I would not care. You understand my view in the matter?"

Finn nodded, and sat on his lap. "Genius, thank you for admitting that. I really like your being jealous. I just wasn't thinking of that. I didn't realize that this would change the way that the Zanga look at me, and at Veronica, although they have seen her doing their tribal dances before, when she lived with them. It will take awhile to restore my image with them, if I even can. Right?"

"Yes," Challenger agreed. "You are wise to think of that...finally. You understand that I don't mind you dancing here, with our other women? Then, I also see the other men's' women, and we all respect one another's property rights, as it were. We are nearly family. And our culture is different. But to display yourself that way before those Indians..." He shook his head in anger and frustration.

She sensed his disposition and stood meekly again. "I understand, George. Veronica thinks that she's also getting a spanking tonight. We know now that we deserve it. But I want to impress on you that we didn't willfully do anything that I thought at the time would displease you. Okay? I mean, it's not like I charged too much at a store or got drunk at the company party in front of your boss or smoked in public or other things that get wives in trouble these days." Finn looked earnestly into her man's eyes, wanting to impress on him that she had acted in innocence, not in arrogance or in defiance.

"I realize that, Darling. I have tried to think of that. Actually, in view of it, I don't know that I'd feel right in punishing you. We have discussed this, and you know not to do it again, and why. You have apologized and asked my forgiveness. Is that not sufficient?"

Finn smiled. "Cool! So, I'm not really getting spanked?"

"I think not. I will consider this overnight, and let you know tomorrow. And, Finn, I want you to let ME know if you still feel enough guilt that you will be less troubled if you are spanked. If I do this to punish you, for the first time in our relationship, it will be a solemn thing for me, and probably for you. It may not hurt much more than when you get me to 'punish' you in those games that you like, but the significance will be different.

"But I want it understood that this will be my decision. If I think it has merit, you can expect to receive a spanking. I reserve that right. I am the head of our household, and you are my woman, and there are some things that almost demand that you be disciplined, if you cross certain lines. Thankfully, you normally do not press your limits, and I am glad for that. You are a delight to me, and I respect you and that is why I am so proud to have you as my future spouse and the mother of our child, and of any other children that we may have. Whatever I decide in this present instance, I want you to know how I feel about this."

"Yes, George. As far as I'm concerned, we're already married in all but ceremony. You are functionally my husband, and I have the duties of your wife. It bugs me to think that I may have let you down. If I don't acknowledge that you have disciplinary powers over me, I won't be a good wife for this day and age. And I would want that for us, whenever we lived. That's just me and it's you.

"Let me tell you something, Genius. Last week, we girls were talking about this sort of thing. Veronica was mouthing off about Ned having said something bossy to her. She wasn't sure that she liked that, although she knows that men are the leaders of the relationship in this time, and throughout most of history. I told her that you usually aren't too bossy, and I love that. I feel freer than most women who are committed to a relationship. I love it. But I said that you are my man, and I am your woman, and we like it that way. I told Vee that Ned is usually a great guy, and to just let this pass without talking back to him. It's not like it was an important issue, where she maybe should have stood up for her view. That can be different.

"What surprised me, though, is that Marguerite chimed in and said that a marriage is like a ship, and there needs to be just one captain. She said that she has realized that for her, that captain is John Roxton. She's feisty, but if she thinks he's right, or just to keep peace sometimes, she lets him be in charge. She even said that if a woman can't let her man be the ultimate leader, she maybe lacks enough feminine hormones, or she just hasn't met the man who will make her feel like a woman, and be grateful for it. I think that really applied in my century, too, although there was this big Political Correctness thing about full equality until Zoth pretty much destroyed our world. Then, things got back more to the elemental stage. And Brazil was pretty traditional, anyway, with guys needing to feel macho."

"I see," chuckled Challenger. He pulled Finn back onto his lap, and hugged her. "Well, Madam, have you decided if I am man enough for you? I'd hate to think that old Roxton has made a better impression than I have." He laughed again, and Finn smiled.

She rubbed noses with him and said, "Genius, I am so much your woman that Marguerite and Veronica can't even begin to understand how much I am yours. But I think Vee thought a lot about what Marguerite said, and she seems to be letting Ned act more like the man of the house lately. He sure doesn't swagger around over it; that isn't Ned. But he seems more confident. Have you noticed?"

"I have," he agreed. "I wondered what had happened to cause that subtle shift in their relationship. By Jove! Who would have thought that Marguerite, of all women, would have said that?!"

"I think that what scared her about getting too close to John was that she does believe that, and she was frightened to give up power to him. Then, she got to the point that she was feeling fulfilled and less stressed when she let him be in charge. He lets her be herself up to a point, and she has a lot of latitude. They're pretty equal. Johnny is that kind of guy. But I'm sure that he knows now that if push comes to shove, Marguerite wants him to put his foot down and make her behave. She won't test him much, but I bet she does occasionally, just to remind both of them that she is now his." Finn knew Marguerite well, and she was confident that she was reading her friend right about this.

"Well," said Challenger, "go brush your teeth and let's go to bed. I am exhausted from the rigors of this day, and I want to think how best to proceed before I decide how to deal with you over the Zanga matter."

She nodded and went to the basin and her toothbrush and the natural toothpaste that he had devised.

When she returned to the bed, he had laid out their guns, flashlights, and candles on each side, on their respective nightstands. She slipped into bed next to him and asked, "Do you want to fool around, Lover? I'm pretty tired, but I can get you all hot and bothered for awhile, if you want. I just don't have a lot of endurance at this point."

"I am also tired, Finn. Just cuddle with me and talk for a bit longer, then I think it best if we sleep. We have some things to consider tomorrow and I have an idea that I think will please you, whatever I decide about the Zanga issue."

"What's that, George?" And when he had told her, she glowed and kissed him. "Super! Right on! Lets' do that. It will be fun, and it will baffle everyone else when we do it, right after they think you busted my butt, whether you choose to do that, or not."

She cuddled against his front, her back spooning into him as she loved, fitting the contours of their bodies together. This made her feel secure and loved and content, and it was the way that they often went to sleep. She felt reassured that he didn't act stiff or wihdraw from her, however upset he was over the unwise dancing. She had been afraid that he would sulk on his side of the bed.

Finn reached for Challenger's right hand and placed it on her lower belly. "Feel anyone moving in there yet?" she teased.

"Hardly, this early. I daresay that our child will be a prodigy, Nicole, but this is premature." He chuckled and pulled her back into him and kissed her. He left his hand on her there, though, as they drifted off to sleep, and she reached for it and covered his hand with hers.

I am so yours, Genius, she thought. We are Us, and every other couple who has ever lived, eat your hearts out, because NOBODY has ever had a love like ours!

XXX

Dawn came, and with it the rise of jungle noises as the population of the vast Plateau rose to greet the sun. A host of birds and monkeys raised their usual din, accompanied by occasional calls from dinosaurs. Once, there came the rattle of a growling jaguar, nearby.

When the jaguar growled, the sun had moved for some distance across the sky, and Nicole Finnegan, who longed to officially become Nicole Challenger, was awake. She heard the coughing feline rattle. During sleep, she had shifted around onto her back. She felt a frisson of fear shiver its way up her spine and looked to her Smith & Wesson .38 revolver on the nightstand beside her. Then, she recalled the electric fence and hoped that it was turned on and that a big jaguar couldn't jump it or pass between the charged strands of wire. The fence had been erected mainly to defeat carnivorous dinosaurs. Being built vertically, like humans, they were likely to touch the powerfully charged wires and die or be so severely shocked that they would flee. A cat, however, moved horizontally. A clever one, seeing the wires, might avoid them and step between the strands.

I'll have to tell George and Johnny that, she reflected. Once inside the compound, a jaguar might even get up the tree and into their home, despite the new shutters on all windows. I can't imagine why we haven't thought of that and attended to it... Just how well can jaguars and pumas climb?

She glanced at Challenger, kissed his sleeping face good morning, and went to the wash basin to refresh her face. She brushed her hair and applied a modest amount of the makeup that Challenger, at Marguerite's behest, had created. Marguerite was being facetious when she had called out to the Wariru that she would want makeup and a chance to comb her hair before being marched into their village on a leash. But it was true that the Krux lass did prize all of the comforts and decorative arts of her homeland. She had been delighted when the brilliant scientist, under her tutelage, had created lipstick in three colors and a few other staples of the female arsenal. Once familiar with them, Veronica and Finn had also begun using these items in moderation, especially on dress-up occasions in the Treehouse. Finn and Veronica usually just used lipstick and a mild touch of blush or eyeshadow, especially before formal dinners or when they danced. Perfumes and cologne weren't normally worn in the jungle, lest they be scented by wild animals or hostile Indians. But the aromas of those that George created often made the Treehouse more pleasant and gracious as the girls wore them. Marguerite favored a lavender scent; the blondes liking a citrus one.

Marguerite, pleased to again have such things, had joked that with them and the dresses that the girls sewed, she felt half civilized. Veronica had retorted that that was Marguerite all right: half civilized. "I'd hate to get on your bad side when you're having a tantrum," she razzed.

Marguerite had stuck out her tongue at Veronica and commented, "Well, it's lucky for you then that I don't have tantrums anymore. Or, not very often. John tells me that they aren't ladylike. If I am to be Lady Roxton, I have to pretend to be a lady. Lets' hope that I will prove to be a good actress."

"Oh, you're the highfalutin lady, all right, Marguerite," Ned Malone had commented. "You had your nose pretty high in the air when we first came here. You still stay 'civilized', as you put it. I think the story; "The Princess and the Pea" was written about you or one of your ancestors."

"That may well be," Marguerite had conceded, "for I surely must come from a long line of princesses or even queens. Thus, my Royal demeanor." She had hammed a haughty pose, to everyone's amusement.

Veronica wouldn't leave well enough alone and said, "Marguerite, even Queen Victoria said that one needn't be a lady all the time." She grinned victoriously.

"Yes, I know that quote," admitted the brunette beauty, "She said that a woman should be a whore in the bedroom and a lady everywhere else." She blushed faintly, hoping that no one would take that quote and run with it, providing a quip to twit her.

Roxton did. "Marguerite, you are always a lady to me, even when you are a whore. I must say, you made me wait longer to see that side of you than any other woman ever has, but it was worth the wait." He waggled his eyebrows at her.

"Wow, John!" teased Malone. "Marguerite, tell us about that side of your life!"

Marguerite, blushing scarlet, said, "Ned, some things are not for the shy and sheltered to hear. Meaning you and Veronica. You'll just have to guess what Lord Roxton and I get up to in private. My lips are sealed, and if John knows what's good for him, so are his." She looked meaningfully at Roxton, who chuckled.

Finn smiled now as she recalled that conversation. She loved the banter between her companions, and felt fulfilled and very happy to have trustworthy friends for the first extended period of her life. The two years that she had spent here were her best yet, and she rejoiced at the thought.

She placed a gold loop earring in each ear lobe, wanting to look her best for Challenger when he rose. She knew his fondness for those earrings, and it would be all that she wore when she went to rouse him. If she pleased him visually, he might go easier on her if he decreed that she be spanked. And Finn still expected that. The only reason why she would resent it a little was that her offense had been unintentional. But she should have thought at least that her man would be jealous. Finn expected a lot of herself and could be very self - critical.

She walked over and gently shook Challenger awake.

"What is it?" he asked, sitting up and looking around. "What is wrong?"

"Nothing, Genius, we mortals just need you to rise and shine, so that your brilliance can light the world." She smiled at his expression.

"Hmpf," he commented. "I see once again that I have chosen the right woman. I wonder how many other ladies acknowledge their men's' worth so candidly?"

He got up and about, and Finn brought his clothes as he freshened himself at the basin, noting that he needed a haircut. Tomorrow, he thought. I have other plans for us today. He combed his hair, and talked with Finn as he finished wakening.

After he had almost finished dressing, he noted that she had remained nude, save for the earrings. He had caught a glimpse of those as she swept her hair back and stretched, showing him all the splendor of her toned body.

"Why aren't you dressing? We shall be late for breakfast. Unless Marguerite is cooking, I quite like breakfast. Perhaps my favorite meal of the day, although there is much to be said for our better suppers, especially when you ladies dress for the occasion." He looked inquiringly at Finn.

"Uh, Genius, you still haven't told me whether I'm going to be punished. If I am, you'll want to whack me on a bare butt, so I figured that I'd ask you to get this over with before I dressed. We need to put it behind us and get on to the rest of the day. Have you decided? Having to wait is punishment in itself, not knowing what you'll do." She fidgeted a little, biting her fingernails.

"Quite right, my dear. I have decided. Sleeping on this has given me the right perspective, I believe. See my belt on the dresser? Bring that to me, now." He looked sternly at Finn.

She blanched, having hoped for no more than a hand spanking. She started to protest, given her lack of intent to offend, but got the belt.

Finn handed the leather belt to her man gingerly, afraid of his wrath, although he seemed calm enough. "Do you want me bending over, or across your lap? Would you mind doing some of this by hand, with me over your lap? That would make it more personal, and I'd feel closer to you. I guess that sounds silly for a girl about to be disciplined, but I love you, and I want us to be doing this together, if you aren't too mad." A tear trickled from each eye, and she was glad that she had decided against using eye liner when she applied her lipstick earlier. Not that she often wore eye liner, anyway.

Challenger took the belt, which he set aside on the bed. He said, "I have some good news for you, young lady. I wanted you to have to bring me this to me to feel just how you should if I was going to apply it to your backside and legs. But it seems a bit excessive to whip you with it for this present offense. And I rather like what you said about the aspect of being in contact with you. Over my lap, you go!"

And he took Finn by the arm and pulled her over his lap, taking care not to put much pressure on her stomach area. Holding her wrists behind her, he lifted them out of the way, and used his other hand to spank her. Fifteen sharp strokes, none especially heavy. Really, they were not a great deal more emphatic than when he spanked her when she played naughty schoolgirl, a slave girl, captive of the pirate, or other games that she liked. Although he did spank her hard enough then to sting considerably, which served to arouse her. She liked him to be firm with her then, she pretending to really be his prisoner, being punished for whatever defiance or transgressions they thought of for the occasion.

He patted her bottom, released her hands, and lifted her to her feet. "Up you come, Darling. Consider yourself punished."

"That's it?" she asked, stunned. "Just those hand whacks? I mean, my butt burns, yeah, but George? Are you sure? I want you to be satisfied. No pun intended..." She looked anxiously at him, and then flicked her eyes nervously at the belt, still lying on the bed.

"Um, perhaps I am letting you off lightly, "he admitted. "Finn, listen while I tell you why I took the action that I did."

She looked curiously at him, wondering why she had been admonished not much harder than in their role-playing, and for so few strokes of his hand. Not that her bottom didn't seriously sting, and she knew that it was pink. She wiped a tear from her cheek, for Challenger's admonishment hadn't been painless, if less than what she knew that he was capable of, if really angry with her. And she was ashamed that she had deserved this. The embarrassment hurt as much as where his hand had struck, which was his intention.

Challenger walked over and played with her hair and ran his hands down her flanks, caressing her tenderly. She winced slightly as his touch roved over the area that had felt his strokes. But she stepped closer, craving the feel of his hands on her, wherever he wished to put them.

"Darling, I concluded that you had been expecting some punishment, and might feel disappointed if you got off Scot - free. And I know you and Veronica. You girls will probably compare what I did with whatever Ned may have done to her last night. I suspect that he may well have been firmer with her than I have been with you."

He continued, "If you admitted that I had pardoned you and she had been spanked with a paddle, she might subconsciously resent either you or Ned, or both. As it is, you can truthfully tell her that you went over my lap and were spanked. Technically, this is true: you need not lie to her. Just try not to compare the severity of your punishment with hers in much detail. Do you feel sufficiently dealt with, considering that your offense was one of carelessness, and not of malice? I almost did nothing, but I do want you to recall this, the first time that I have done this to you except in play. And it does give you an alibi when you and Veronica talk."

Finn was stunned, then gradually saw some humor in this, and rejoiced that Challenger had been reluctant to be too strict with her, given the circumstances. He was a fair man, and a loving one, even in discipline. And she realized wryly that he had read her and Veronica perfectly: they were indeed going to discuss what their men had done to them! She made a note not to underestimate Challenger. He was male, but capable of getting into the female mind rather successfully for a man, when he wanted to. Well, she reasoned, he IS a genius, and he knows me so very well.

"So, this is over with now?" she wanted to know. "George, I am sorry. I just wasn't thinking, and neither was Vee."

"Yes, Nicole. This is finished, as far as I am concerned. As you said, it is best that we put this behind us. We mean too much to one another to dwell on it. But if you ever do anything like that again..."

"Okay, okay, I get the idea," she said hastily. "I'll behave."

She came into his arms. "Thanks for understanding, George. I had at least that much coming and the symbolism of it lets us both know that I accepted your decision. And that did embarrass me. I felt stupid and childish while it lasted, and especially while I waited to see what your decision would be. I'm glad that you were so reasonable about this. I'd better get dressed before Ned or Vee comes knocking on our door telling us to come eat." She started to move away from him.

"Not just yet, Nicole. You have one other step coming." And he led her to the corner of their room where he kept the two-foot high wooden pedestal. Lifting her effortlessly, he stood her upon it and told her how proud he was of her for being honest about the dance in the village and for not protesting when he had told her to bring the belt, and beyond.

"Had you and Veronica not admitted your indiscretion, we might have walked unaware into a touchy situation the next time we visit the Zanga. Now, if we get knowing looks directed at you girls, we will at least be prepared for it, and may be able to defuse what might otherwise escalate into something unpleasant. You made a misjudgment in this case, but I remain proud of you and I am delighted that you are mine and that I am yours."

She stood on the platform of the pedestal, blushing furiously and feeling torn between shame at having just been punished, however reasonably, and love for this remarkable man.

"Genius, I love this pedestal, and I love you. Now, take me down off of this thing and let me dress. We need to get underway. And thanks for going easy on me." She crouched and kissed his forehead. "You need a haircut tomorrow," she observed.

He lifted her off of the pedestal. Soon, the couple went down to breakfast, which Veronica and Ned were just setting out. The Roxtons were being seated, Marguerite having brought out a platter of scrambled eggs. Veronica was pouring coffee for Ned, and looked inquiringly at Finn. She couldn't wait to hear what Challenger had done to Finn, and wanted to tell her friend the ridiculous punishment that her own man was imposing on her. The heck of it was, Veronica actually found herself looking forward to fulfilling his demand.

"Oh, good," said Malone, looking at the newly arrived couple. "I was just about to go wake you two."

CHAPTER 14

Breakfast went well, although each woman kept sneaking looks at the others, wondering how they had fared with their mates in view of the difficulties that they had caused.

After the meal, Roxton, Challenger, and Malone went down to grease the gears that operated the windmill which powered the generator. Challenger had devised a new formula for the grease, refined from natural oil. That was found in surface pools in several places known to the explorers, and they regularly brought back a few jars of it. Challenger then refined this to use for lubrication and to prevent rust affecting their guns, knives, the inner workings of fishing reels, and similar uses. He had come up with thicker grease, but relatively pure, which he felt sure would better lubricate these gears, vital to their obtaining electric power for the Treehouse.

The women seized the opportunity to gather in the kitchen. They gossiped as they cleaned dirty dishes and the pans used to cook eggs and tapir bacon. Marguerite had ostensibly excused herself to sew upstairs, but as soon as Roxton had joined the other men, she shot like a meteor into the kitchen.

The blondes looked at her, then at each other.

"What?" demanded Marguerite. "You've seen me before; I live here. Don't look so baffled. Whatever it is, I am one of you, and I want to be included in this. What are we discussing, as if I couldn't guess?"

"All right, Marguerite, guess!" Veronica hoped that she would be wrong, because what they had been talking about was embarrassing, and what she would tell Finn might not be what she would admit to Marguerite.

But the brunette member of their trio was uncannily prescient, and she did guess the topic, precisely. "I suspect that we are discussing who got her bum whacked by her man, how many strokes, and how hard they were. Am I right?"

Finn blushed and admitted that she was correct. "Vee, she really is one of us now. We should let her in on this."

"So, did John spank you, Marguerite?" Veronica wanted to spare herself the embarrassment of having to go first. If Marguerite confessed, she would be less haughty in hearing what had happened to the others.

"No, " said Roxton's woman."I was surprised. I kept anticipating that all the while that I was lost. It was my own damned fault, and I put all of you in danger when I insisted on going it on my own. I thought that John and the other men and you two would all gang up on me and make me feel awful for that. I rather deserved it, at that.

"What really happened," she continued, "is that after John and I started back to the Treehouse, I asked him how angry he was. I told him that I just knew that he was going to paddle me, and to please keep in mind that although I had rashly gone off on my own, the rest of this little adventure was NOT my fault! How was I to know that a couple of Allosaurs would decide to kill a Stegosaurus on the trail home, let alone chase me when others of their kind showed up?

"I mean, are women, even those of superior intellect like me, BORN knowing these things? No, that just happened, through reptilian excess, over which I had no control! We seldom see large carnosaurs in that part of the jungle, which is why other animals and the Zanga made that trail there to begin with. If you two had been with me, one or more of us may have been caught and eaten! Especially if we had all been talking and not paying enough attention to the jungle."

Finn looked soberly at Veronica. "She's right, Vee. That could really have happened. And I'm pregnant. My child might have died right there, and George would never have known him. And if it was you who got eaten, I'd be crying my eyes out. I love you so much..." And Finn wiped away a tear as she thought of their narrow escape from what might have been.

Veronica teared up, too, and pulled Finn to her and hugged her. "We got lucky," she admitted. "Every day here is just a crapshoot as to who lives and who dies, although that trail is safer than most."

"Don't I get a hug, too?" asked Marguerite, who actually managed to look lonely and a little hurt.

"You sure do," said Veronica, and pulled their dark-haired chum to the others. Both Finn and Veronica hugged her, and told her that they were glad beyond any means of expression that she had been spared.

"We were so scared that we would find you dead, or not find you at all," Finn told her. "We care about you, Marguerite, and I hope that you know that by now."

Now, Marguerite found tears in her own eyes. "I know it. And it matters the world to me. I can't begin to tell you two what it is like to have other women with whom I can share things and trust and just enjoy knowing."

"Well, look: to answer your question before the boys come back up, yes, I got spanked," Finn confessed. "Not with a belt or a paddle, but George pulled me over his lap and let me have it. But not too many strokes and not as hard as I was expecting. And he put me on the pedestal later; to show me how proud he was that I had told the truth, before we went back to the Zanga village. He didn't want to have to find out about that through someone else, or to see the Zanga men give me smirking looks and not know why."

Veronica was clearly embarrassed. "Marguerite, don't you dare tell John this, but Ned let me off without a spanking. What he's making me do is to put on that outfit that I wore in the village and dance for him every afternoon for a week! Can you believe that?!"

Marguerite smiled wryly. "Just dance for him? Nothing more, after you've gotten him all aroused?"

Veronica colored. "Uh, we didn't discuss that part. I guess that we'll play it by ear. He likely has ideas along those lines, too. As he'll probably say, there's no sense in letting a good dance go to waste when it might inspire something! Men! They all have that one -track mind!"

The women all laughed, for they knew very well on which track that particular train travelled.

"You aren't being fair to the lads, Veronica," Marguerite pointed out. "They do think of things besides THAT. Like fishing, cricket, cars, golf, and hunting. And some do very well with polo."

"I bet that Ned isn't going to be thinking of polo after he's just seen Vee dance," Finn teased.

"So, what did John do to you?" the blondes wanted to know.

xxx

Below, the men finished greasing the windmill gears.

The subject of the women's' misbehavior had come up, and although they were more reluctant than the girls were to discuss in detail the punishment that they had meted out to their women, they did. On this occasion, they decided to confide at least the basics to one another.

"Normally," said Challenger, "I would be loath to disclose what I do with Finn in private. But in this case, we do have a common interest in settling matters with those girls after what they did. So, I suppose that I can confide in you lads. After all, we are, after a fashion, a band of brothers."

"'We few, we happy few, we band of brothers!" Roxton quoted the line from Henry V's speech to his troops before the Battle of Agincourt.

"So?" demanded Malone. "I'm making Veronica put on that lavender loincloth and skimpy top that Sa'eera gave her and I'm making her dance for me half an hour every afternoon this week. It seems appropriate, given what she did. If she wants to wear that little clothing and shake her body for men to see, I want to be the man who sees!"

The others chuckled, and Roxton said, "Good idea, Ned! I envy you that. She will look wonderful. I toyed with that as being Marguerite's punishment, but it wouldn't be so fitting. She, after all, wasn't one of the dancers in the village. She just wandered off on her own without thought for the consequences, and got lost when she had to leave the trail. To her credit, she was chased off of it, and just couldn't find her way back."

"I spanked Finn," admitted Challenger, "but not severely, and partly because I know that she expected it. Also, had I done nothing, she would not just feel guilty and foolish; she would have nothing exciting to share with the other ladies. I feel sure that they will tell one another how they fared at our hands."

"Yes," agreed Roxton. "I thought long and hard, and I decided that instead of taking Marguerite over my lap, although that might have some interesting aftereffects if she became excited, I wanted something more suitable."

"Which was?" This from Ned.

He told the other men, and they stood surprised for a moment, then both Malone and Challenger laughed as they agreed that this was indeed a superb way to deal with Marguerite, in the circumstances.

XXX

Marguerite blushed and asked whether the other girls recalled the compass that she wore in a brown leather pouch on her gun belt.

They nodded, having seen it many times, if only in the leather. Marguerite only rarely took it out, other than to polish it and check to see that it still showed North correctly.

"What about it?" asked Veronica. "It must work pretty well, if it's what showed you the way to John Roxton's heart!"

She and Finn looked at one another and grinned.

"Very funny, girls," muttered Marguerite. "Look, this is serious. You asked what John has decreed will be my punishment for scaring everyone so badly. Well, I have to go on a picnic with him today and learn to set a proper compass course. If I knew how to do that, I could probably have gotten home by dark, dinosaurs or no dinosaurs. And the boys would have known that you two were safe in the Zanga village, and not have lost what Ned so charmingly described as half a year's growth worrying about you. Oh: I have to carry around a map from now on. You get to draw it, Vee. With the compass and the map, I should be able to tell where I am anywhere along the trail between here and the site of your shameful dancing for those savages, as George so nicely phrased it."

"I'll wiggle enough for Mr. Malone that he knows just how shameful," said Veronica. "I wouldn't want him becoming too complacent. Finn, if I wasn't on those little pills that George invented, I might find myself the next pregnant woman here, if Neddy likes my show as much as I think he will. At least, he'll know for sure what he wishes I hadn't done for Jacoba." She winked conspiratorially, and all three women laughed.

"What!?" demanded Finn. "Marguerite just has to learn to set a compass course, Vee gets to watch Ned's eyes bulge out of his leering face, and I get spanked! Where is the fairness here?"

"Why, in you, my dear," said Challenger, who had walked up quietly. "Thou art the fairest flower of all, at least in my eyes. And as long as you're telling these ladies how heartless and merciless I am, remember how frightened I was for you when you didn't come home that night. You deserved a good spanking for that. I can tell you, I had a nasty time over it."

"You really missed me, huh, Genius?" Finn smiled shyly.

"As if I had lost my right arm, Darling, or as if my heart had been mortally wounded. You mean that much to me. I treasure you as much as, nay, more, than the lab."

"Wow, more than his lab!" Marguerite snorted with laughter. "I must say, George, you are a sweet talker! What woman's heart wouldn't beat faster for hearing that?"

"You have to consider the source," said Veronica, laughing, herself.

"When you ladies are done being amused at probably the most romantic statement that I have ever made," said Challenger stiffly, "perhaps we might pack a picnic lunch. Finn and I are going up on the slopes where the blackberries grow. We thought we might pick enough for two pies and a bit of added fruit for nibbling on."

"I was just about to get out the tapir ham and cold chicken, George," Finn said. "What else do you want, besides bread and enough dill pickles that you won't be tempted to beg for mine?" She walked over and put her arm around her man's waist, a little sorry for him after Marguerite's barb. "And I think that caring more for me than for the lab was a very sweet thing to say. We all know how much the lab means to you."

"George must be doing something right," Veronica conceded. "He smacks Finn's bottom, and she comes down here and makes a lunch to go on a picnic with him." She and Marguerite grinned at one another.

"Well, my bottom is his to smack when he thinks I deserve it. I'm his woman, and I'm not trading places with any queen! Vee, will you help me get a lunch together? Marguerite, you can stay here and talk, but you're excused from helping. You'll probably know how to use a compass the right way long before you master the culinary arts."

"Did you mean that, about preferring to be mine over being a queen?" Challenger was genuinely curious how Finn would answer.

"She means it, George," Marguerite affirmed. "She has told me as much before, just prior to our being kidnapped by that unsavory swine, Burton." (See the Fic, "A Night in the Lost World".)

Finn looked at Challenger and nodded. "I meant every word of it, Genius. I love you more than I can say." She blushed a little, for she was basically independent and proud, but her relationship with Challenger was an exception to her boldness.

He lifted her chin and kissed her tenderly, then cleared his throat noisily and excused himself to get their guns and other gear ready for the trek.

"He left in a hurry," noted Veronica, her expression puzzled.

"Didn't you see his face, Veronica?" Marguerite queried. "He was about to cry. I think that Finn's little declaration touched him really deeply."

"It better had," Finn said, wiping a tear from a wet blue eye. "Giving up being a queen wasn't an easy decision."

Marguerite looked at her tenderly, and pulled Finn to her bosom, and they clung together, hugging, as Veronica wiped a tear from her own eye and turned to the refrigerator to begin preparing two picnic lunches.

CHAPTER 15

A little over an hour later, four explorers had reached the upper slopes beyond the Treehouse, and the couples decided to separate after lunch. The Challengers would linger near the blackberry bushes that experience had taught them produced the most succulent berries. The Roxtons would venture further afield.

There was ample cover to avoid being seen by most predators, yet enough room where they could set up for a picnic on a blanket. There was enough open space around them to see anything dangerous as it came.

Their rifles would be constantly at hand, and Finn had packed three hand grenades with their lunch. Challenger had protested that this was rather theatrical. "It reminds me of when you were learning to read, Nicole. Remember that day that you thought that Alice in Wonderland ought to have taken an automatic pistol and some knives on her journey through the looking glass?" He chuckled. This was one of the first books that he had read to her, as she struggled to learn to read.

"Genius, the world being what it is, a girl never knows when she might need an explosive effect." Finn thought it best to be prudent, and she was keenly aware of the value that grenades had recently played in saving her and Marguerite from a marauding war party of Xingu Indians. (See, "Xingu!" cn this board.)

"You tell him, Nicole," agreed Marguerite Krux. "You never know when you might want to get a bang out of life!"

Challenger and Roxton smiled, but neither felt that there was any likelihood of needing grenades this fine afternoon. They were content to carry only their sidearms and their usual rifles. Roxton had taken his .416 Rigby in case he needed to shoot anything large. Marguerite had her sporting Lee-Enfield,again, a hunting rifle made on the military .303 action, but with a trimmer, fancier stock and commercial sights. She had installed a ten-shot military magazine now, though, having learned from her recent experience that it might prove useful. Finn took her Winchester .44/40 M-92 carbine instead of her Mannlicher-Schoenauer. If she had to shoot, it might be at human enemies at close range, and she liked the large magazine capacity and the handiness of the American weapon. Its cartridges were amply powerful for deer at close range, or for Indians. Challenger had his favorite Holland & Holland .450 Nitro Express. He would shoot any large threats and Finn could handle the smaller.

Finn set up the tablecloth over an old army blanket, and they laid out lunch. The couples had decided to eat together before John Roxton took his woman off to show her how to use a compass to steer a course from one point to another. The Challengers would pick berries for awhile, and Finn thought that she might swim at a secluded, clear pool on a stream nearby. Marguerite decided to join her if she did, and told Roxton to set a goal of reaching the pool as her trail finding task.

Figures, "Roxton teased." Girls just want to have fun. I don't suppose that George and I get to watch you ladies swim? There's a nice way to pass an afternoon." He grinned, only half serious.

Finn looked at Marguerite and at Challenger. "George? I don't mind if you don't, but it's up to you and Marguerite. We girls have certainly seen everything that each of us has to show, and fate being what it has here, you guys have had an eyeful of us, too. When we dance in the Treehouse, we don't leave much to the imagination with those costumes."

Marguerite clasped a hand to her bosom, feigning shock and indignation. "That may be all right for you to say, Finn, you little urchin, but I am a fine, modest lady! How dare you suggest that I expose my lily white, almost virgin body to these prying male eyes!"

Finn grinned lewdly back. "I think the operative term there is 'almost' virgin body, Marguerite." She stuck out her tongue playfully at her friend.

Marguerite laughed now, and said, "John? I am rather modest, normally, but if you say so, we rather 'rum' lassies are willing to swim for your visual pleasure. George?"

Challenger and Roxton looked at one another, and some signal passed between them. Roxton answered for both men. "Ladies, as thrilled as we would be, I think that Challenger and I are rather more easily embarrassed than you girls. Perhaps it would be best if he and I just sit nearby while you enjoy your romp in the water, rifles ready in case of need. We'll try not to peek. We'll wait until your next dance at home to ogle you. It will give you girls something to look forward to."

Finn and Marguerite shrugged. "Have it your way, stuffed shirts," said Marguerite. "We'd hate to shock you jealous boys."

Challenger concentrated on laying out food and Finn grinned impishly as she caught his eye. She winked, and he smiled back, relieved that Roxton wouldn't after all see his reaction to Finn and Marguerite bathing nude. Some things, a man should keep to himself. "Who wants chicken and who wants ham?" he asked.

Following lunch, the Roxtons went off to the north, and the Challengers, the picnic things stowed, took buckets and began to pick berries. They moved to the right a bit at a time, working their way along the outer bushes, laying their rifles behind them as they advanced.

"Um, Finn, tell me the truth about something. I can't always tell for certain when you and Marguerite are joking. It is easier to determine that when you are clowning with Veronica, but you and Marguerite..."

"What, Lover?" Finn looked innocently at him, trying to stifle a grin. She knew what he was about to ask.

"Would you girls actually have undressed and let John and me stare openmouthed at you as you frolicked in the water?" He blushed.

She stepped over and hugged him with one arm and nuzzled his sleeve with her nose and chin. "George, I think we were teasing, just like Johnny was. I THINK he was. He is really about as reserved as you are, most of the time. You should have seen his face when I stripped to dive after Marguerite's missing necklace that time when I saw it in the river. (See, "A Ripped Garment.") He tried not to look, and was really a gentleman about it, although I was probably a sight, soaking wet, in my bra and those ripped panties. To answer you, I think that Marguerite and I were playing off of each other. But if one of us had dared the other, yes, if you boys had asked, we'd have done it. Probably giggled ourselves silly, and had fun telling Veronica when we got home. But that leaves Ned's reaction. He can be even stuffier than you guys, sometimes. I was going to leave it up to you and Johnny whether you wanted to watch. He wouldn't see any of me that you wouldn't have seen of Marguerite, and she has a vain streak, too. I'm worse. I know now that I'm kind of an exhibitionist, up to a point.

"And I'm pregnant," she continued. "I may as well enjoy being ogled while I can. It won't be much longer before men won't want to gawk at me until I've had the baby and gotten myself back into shape. Look: do you want us to let you guys watch? Marguerite will go along. John is the stumbling block."

"I rather think that I may be a greater stumbling block than John would be. I believe that we men are both sufficiently territorial that we had rather that you ladies bathe while we sit out of sight. But how do you know that Marguerite would do that? Not that I don't feel confident in your estimation of her..."

Finn looked seriously at him. "Lover, Marguerite and I had different backgrounds, but the better I get to know her, the surer I become that we girls are sisters under the skin. We have a lot in common. While Burton held us, I started to get close to her, and now that we've known each other for more than two years, I think much like she does. I can usually guess what she'll say, about most things. It depends on circumstances. About this, I think we were both fearing, but hoping, that you guys would tell us to let you watch. But I think we're okay if you don't watch, too. I know you as well as I do Marguerite, and you reacted like I thought you would. I was going to let you be my guide. Like I always will, in most things. I belong to you, Genius. And that has made me the happiest female human in the history of our species." She leaned up and kissed him. "Does that answer your question, Lover?" She smiled at him.

"Yes," he said. "It does. I am a little shocked, but dammit, Finn, I almost said that I longed to watch. You have brought me out of my shell, but in some areas, I suppose that I am still a trifle old-fashioned. If only we were here, I would indeed have watched as you swam. I never tire of watching you, Darling. Your body is a living sculpture, and I have become a lover of fine art."

She looked down, then back up at him. "George, Marguerite is a pretty fine sculpture, too. Hey, I know: would you like me to sit for Vee to paint me, wearing whatever you like, before I get heavier? Marguerite could pose for a painting for John. Vee would do a great job. She knows just what I look like. We could keep the painting in our room for you to remember what I normally look like, when my pregnancy gets further along. It will give you something to look forward to, when I can get back to my normal shape. Come to that, I want to see what I look like, too. It will help my self image as I get further along in the family way."

"Let me think about that, Darling. I will have to consider who all might eventually get to see it, especially if we take it with us when we leave this accursed Plateau."

"Well, let me know. I don't mind stripping for Vee to paint me. You could even watch her do it. Twenty years from now, I might want to see that portrait, myself!"

Challenger barked a short laugh. "Ha! I daresay that you will hold up better than I will. And you will always be lovely in my eyes. What do you suppose the Roxtons are doing now? We had better gather some more berries, and then I want to brew tea and just sit and talk a bit before we meet them at the pool where John and I will NOT watch as you vixens cavort in the river!"

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Roxton watched as Marguerite tried the lensatic compass again, for the sixteenth time. She was learning to sight on a distant object, then note the bearing on the compass and stay on course as she made her way toward the landmark. And she had learned terms like "back azimuth," to help her re-trace her steps.

"Marguerite, answer a question for me," he ventured. "Would you have truly swum in the altogether as Challenger and I watched?"

She gave him a cool, amused look. "Why, John, I was going to leave that up to you, "she teased. "I feel sure that Finn would have gone along with it, if you had asked. Provided that Challenger approved, of course. With you men along, she would have taken her cue from George. Why? Do you wish me to do that? I feel sure that I can talk Finn into it. She rather enjoys being looked at, provided that her lord and master approves."

Roxton knew that he was being toyed with. "Damn it, Marguerite, you know what I mean. I'm not talking about Challenger. I know George and what he will say. And I know Finn. She loves to be admired. That's what got her and Veronica in trouble, for that little dance in the Zanga kraal. It is YOU that I am asking about. And you know it!"

"Well, if you ask nicely, I may consider it," she said sweetly, grinning at his frustration. "John, I didn't realize that you wanted me to do that. Shall I leave on anything at all?" Her eyes twinkled as his face grew redder.

"Never mind, on second thought," he mumbled. "I'm not certain that I really want to know. I DO want to know that you have learned enough today to find your way home the next time you become lost."

She sobered. "That is definitely important. John, I was terrified! I wanted desperately to find my way home. You have no idea how frightened I was, and how much I missed you."

"You cannot possibly have missed me any more than I missed you, " he admitted. "Marguerite, I love you. Have I told you that yet today?"

"Today? No, not today. Will you promise to tell me that daily, dearest John? You cannot imagine how much that would mean to me."

"In that case, Marguerite, I will tell you twice daily that I love you and extra on Sunday. Provided, of course that you promise to be a very naughty girl on Saturday night."

He pulled her to him and held her as he kissed her brow, then nibbled his way along her neck below her ear.

Her knees grew weak, and she clung to him, aware of how vulnerable she had become through her love for Roxton. And he knew it! She KNEW that he knew it! Her soul laid bare, she responded as his tongue probed her lips. Fire raced through her veins, and she moaned helplessly.

"Do we have time to dally a bit in the bushes?" he asked. "I burn with lust for you, Darling. You mean the world to me spiritually, but you also arouse in me physical passions that surpass what any other woman has done. And some have done damned well by me in that regard. Before I met you, of course!" His hand played with her hair and she shivered as her whole being cried out silently, TAKE ME, NOW!

She heard herself say, against all reason, "John, please! Not just now! Save this for tonight. We shall be late and Finn will already be in the water before I arrive."

"Aha!" he said gleefully. "So, you DO want to swim with her, for me? I have my answer, at last!"

"John," she laughed, "You are impossible! Please let me go for now, and let me try one more compass exercise. Then we had better find the Challengers. They will think that a T-rex has dined on us!"

"Oh, very well, "he grumbled good naturedly. "But I want your promise to continue this in our room later tonight."

She reached for the bulge in his trousers. "Oh, I think that I had better keep that promise," she teased. "You do seem to have a large problem here that needs addressing. Never fear, we can work on that repeatedly, until dawn if that is what you want. For now, pick some landmark and I had better steer us toward it, then we need to get down to the river."

"Very well," he agreed. "See that tall pine that has been struck by lightning? To the right, about 600 yards out? Take a bearing on it, and we'll work our way over there. It's on the path to the pool that you want, anyway."

She aimed the compass and they followed, watching her bearing as she held course.

Some three hundred yards along, she looked up and asked, "What is that, John? That dark smudge behind those trees? Is that the entrance to a cave?"

The explorers wandered over to the cave, which, like so many on this Plateau, led into a dark interior many meters deep.

"We'd better save this for later," said Roxton, checking his watch. We need to be getting along to meet George and Finn."

"Oh, let's look for just a little," urged Marguerite. "It may be a way off of the Plateau. Or, there may be a treasure in gems to be excavated."

"If you insist," muttered Roxton. "I love you, but you aren't always wise in wandering into strange caves."

"Maybe we can be alone in this one and do what you had in mind awhile back," she teased, playing intimately with his body.

"Ah, well, if you think we have time," he said, more agreeably.

They chopped a dead branch with his machete and lit it as a torch. This showed them that the cave went back for some forty yards, but it seemed to have no other entrance or exit, and the only items of interest were some hieroglyphics engraved into one wall. The lettering and symbols were precisely carved, by some skilled civilization.

"What does this gibberish say?" queried Roxton, knowing Marguerite's ability to translate most of what she saw.

She studied the inscriptions carefully, and then turned to him and said, "It says, 'Bank at Barclay's. That's the first one. The next urges the reader to drink Twining's tea." She looked impudently at him. "But that last one is the best."

She leaned close to him and whispered into his right ear, "It says, 'Take me, Lord Roxton. Right now.' I can't wait to get back to the Treehouse."

"Well, they were a far-sighted people who carved that," he exclaimed. "To know that we would come along and read that, after all of these years." He chuckled. "I must say that I think they had a wonderful idea, though. Seriously, what does it really say?"

She took off her gun belt and unbuttoned her skirt. "It just says something about Jark being a great ruler, whoever he was, and that this cave marks the entrance to his sorcerer's divining chamber. I guess they used to cast spells in here. Like the spell that you've cast over me, John." She stood back, leering at him, a teasing look from her devastating green eyes melting his resolve to get to the rendezvous on time.

He set aside his rifle and took off his pack. "Well, Marguerite, I do have a blanket in the pack. We can spread it on the floor and see just how much of a spell you have cast over ME, too. I want you, now, urgently. I could barely restrain myself when you played coy about this earlier. What changed your mind?

"I don't know, she admitted."I just couldn't stop thinking about what you were doing to me. I was getting all moist inside, and it was all that I could do to withstand you. And we are now closer to where we need to meet the others. We're a little early. Lets' take advantage of that." She looked at him with THOSE EYES, doing what they could do to a man, and Roxton was hooked.

He took off his shirt and removed his boots. "I'll have that blanket spread on the floor here in just a moment."

"Hurry, then. I want you in me, now, taking me and telling me what I mean to you. Tell me, John. I want to hear that. Please?" She passed him her panties and stood naked before him, loving the look on his face as he studied her in the pale lemon light that came in from the afternoon sun.

Forty minutes later, the couple stood, adjusting their clothing.

"How do I look? " Marguerite asked. "Do you think the Challengers will know what we were doing? Will we be late for the rendezvous?"

Roxton shook his head. "We still have about 20 minutes. I think we'll make it. And you look fine. Just get out your mirror and refresh your lipstick. I'll slosh some water from my bottle onto my handkerchief, and you can clean off your face a little. You'll be beautiful and serene again." He beamed at her.

She blushed and accepted the wetted handkerchief. A few minutes later, they ventured out, Roxton shrugging on his pack.

Marguerite pulled at his sleeve to stop him as they emerged into the sunlight. "John? Thank you. That was wonderful. I'm glad that we did that."

"Are we still on for more later, at home? You're like eating tea crackers, Marguerite. One taste of you, and I always want more."

"More you shall have, Lord Roxton," she laughed "Come on, we had better hurry, or Finn will look at me and know what we've been doing. I don't want her teasing me, even if she waits until you and George can't hear."

He chuckled, lifted his rifle, and they started out for the river.

They had gone barely a hundred yards when Marguerite heard something in the bushes to the right. She looked, and started to call Roxton's attention to it. But she saw that he had heard, too. And he had unslung his .416 Rigby and was rolling the safety catch to "Off".

"Hold up, Marguerite," he ordered, "I have a very bad feeling about this. Be ready to run."

He had hardly spoken before the head and shoulders of a Tyrannosaurus rex thrust up above the horizon as the animal climbed up from the slope below.

It saw them at once and uttered a low growl that struck terror into both humans who heard it. Roxton laid his rifle's foresight on a portion of the skull that might allow a brain shot and pulled the trigger.

At the sound of the shot, he saw dust flare and blood spurt from the bullet's strike. But in the millisecond that it took the 400 grain (weight) full-jacketed bullet to traverse the distance to the huge dinosaur, it had tilted its head slightly, and the bullet ricocheted off of its skull.

The wounded animal emitted a thunderous roar and charged the two humans. Marguerite fired her .303 at its windpipe and heard the awful smack of the bullet striking home. Roxton feverishly cycled the bolt to feed a new cartridge into the chamber of his .416 and fired a second shot. It hit at the base of the throat, inflicting a hideous wound, but the big carnosaur paused not a whit, It approached the Roxtons with great speed, total fury glaring from its eyes.

"Run, John," Marguerite screamed. "Get back into that cave!"

"I'm going! You go first! I'll cover you!"

"Cover, Hell! Let's both run for it! You'll not stop that thing now; get into the damned cave!"

And so they fled back into the shelter that had so recently offered a haven for their romantic tryst.

In the shelter of the ancient limestone cave, they paused to catch their breath as the enraged beast stalked back and forth outside. It bent and tried to reach in for them, but its attenuated forelegs were not up to that task. Even the longer-limbed Allosaurus would not have been able to reach into this cave too deeply. Roxton commented that it was a good thing that theropods were built as they were.

"If a crocodile or a huge monitor lizard was after us, our collective goose would be well done by now. Not just cooked."

"You think of the most charming things, Darling John. However do you do it, especially at a time like this?!"

He chuckled. "It helps me to appreciate the positive side of the situation, Marguerite." He opened the bolt of his Rigby rifle and loaded two fresh cartridges into the Magnum Mauser action. Both were "solids", British parlance for full jacketed bullets, designed not to expand, but to penetrate deeply in very large animals.

"What shall we do next?," his woman wondered. "My water bottle is getting low, and we have to meet George and Finn. What if they come looking for us and stumble into this?"

Roxton shook his head sadly. "Let us hope that they do not. Both shoot well, but that thing is about fifty feet long, and they wouldn't have a good chance of nailing it before it got them. If it got either, the other would be devastated, and I wouldn't be far behind. Those are two of the dearest friends that I've ever had. It would be tragic to lose her, but George is our resident scientist. Without him, our chances for survival go downhill sharply, certainly our comfort level, too. Mrs. Challenger's little boy grew up to be quite the prodigy, even among brilliant scientists."

"I know. George tells us that constantly. But he is a little more modest than he used to be, and more caring, by half! Now, his girlfriend tells us how great he is, just in case he forgets to on some particular afternoon!"

Roxton turned to look at Marguerite. He was amused. "Now, Darling, don't let's be catty. Finn is your friend, too. Remember, you girls are looking forward to a swim together. We'd better think of something, or it will become too dark for that."

"Well, think of something, then, Roxton! I didn't bring you my heart on a silver platter for nothing, did I?"

"As I recall, it came not on a silver platter, but only after much vexing effort on my part to convince you that I should get it at all. But I love you, anyway." He bent and kissed her between the eyes, her hat having fallen off outside.

She softened and stood very close to him, their bodies touching as much as possible through their clothing. "John, my whole world turns around you now. However you managed to take my heart, it beats for you now. Whatever happens to us today, I want you to always remember that I love you, very deeply. You have given me hope of a finer future than I ever expected to have." She buried her head against his chest and tried not to cry.

He set aside his rifle and held her. "There, now, Marguerite. We will think of something. Don't I always take excellent care of my things? And are you not my most priceless possession? "

"I think so," she half whispered. "But you spend more time rubbing oil on your guns than you do in rubbing me." She laughed, to show him that she was teasing.

"Well, I love my guns, too, and they take good care of us. But never fear, Marguerite. I will spend half of this night rubbing you, if we can figure a way to get home."

She looked boldly at him, "What if we DON'T get home tonight? You did a good job of handling me a few minutes ago, in here. I pity the women who used to date you. They must have been half wild with desire from the moment they realized what magic you work with your hands!" She stuck out her tongue at him and managed to grin widely. Maybe this banter would take her mind off of the horror that roared and stomped just outside the cave entrance.

"And I don't drive you half wild with desire, too? Am I losing my touch?"

"Oh, no, John. You drive me WHOLLY wild with desire! Why do you think I pulled you in here as soon as I saw this cave? What you did to me just before that wouldn't go away, and I was a totally wanton slut in need of gratification. Which I got. Thank you again. You were wonderful. And the things that you said to me... How I have longed to hear them from just the right man, and know that I could believe them!"

"Oh, I'm sure that I have my faults, "Roxton admitted. "But I am honest, even with women. But with you, superlatives are the right words. You merit them. I suspect that you were a pretty hot number, even before that sultan had you trained to be a love machine." (See, "A Prisoner of the Sultan, Or, How Marguerite Learned to Dance" in Fiction on this board.)

"Thank you, John. As ever, your compliments are music to my ears. But what are we really going to do? We are late now in meeting the Challengers."

"There isn't a lot that we CAN do. If we fire rifles from in here, the noise will make us go deaf. And all we could do is to shoot enough holes in that thing, especially to finish rupturing its windpipe or hit its carotid artery, to let it suffocate or bleed to death. That will take time. Reptiles die hard and slowly. Even if we killed it, it might fall down and block the cave entrance."

"Blow out its windpipe...What about throwing out a grenade and seeing if it would snap it up? If it didn't, would the grenade have enough of a blast that it would kill that thing?"

He shrugged. "An academic question. We haven't GOT a grenade. But if it went off and the T-rex didn't get it in its mouth first, the fragments might come back in here and hit us."

Marguerite looked around inside the cave. "Look at that flat stone altar or whatever it once was. The place where you spread the blanket before you took me after we got far enough along that I wanted to lie down and feel you in me from on top. That's almost four feet high. And it's long enough to shelter us. Could we duck behind there and avoid most of the fragments?'

He considered. "Probably. The odd bits of steel would still rattle around in here, but if we lie flat, most or all should miss us. If the T-rex didn't kick the grenade back in here, it might do some good. And you're right that they tend to snap up anything running near them. Unless it saw the grenade clearly enough to realize that it might be a rock instead of a rat or something, running past. But why debate this? I say again, we haven't GOT a grenade."

"Yes, we have," she announced triumphantly. "Let me turn around and you dig it out of my pack. It should be on the bottom, on the left side. I bummed one from Finn earlier."

"Really?" Roxton was intrigued. "Why did you do that? How could you have thought that we would need one?"

"Feminine intuition, I guess. Or, maybe I am the reincarnation of Morrighan, the sorceress. I had a nagging feeling that it would be a good idea to get that nasty little bomb, and Finnykins had three. I told her that it was dangerous for a blonde to have that many at once and she laughed and told me to take one." She smiled at the memory. She missed her friend, and would be glad to see her again, if God in His infinite mercy allowed that.

Roxton was impressed. "Turn around, then, and I'll get it. Then get down behind that stone bench or altar or whatever it is, and I'll yell something to make the dinosaur mad. Then, I'll throw out the grenade and run to get on top of you. Maybe it will work. I'll toss the grenade off to the left, so that the main force of the blast won't come in here. And if it kills the T-rex, maybe it'll fall that way and not in front of the cave opening!"

She snickered. "You're always scheming to find ways to get on top of me, aren't you?" she razzed. "Well, good luck with this. It's certainly all that we have any hope of doing to save ourselves."

He took out the segmented, nasty looking steel hand bomb and moved to the cave entrance. It was part of the loot they'd taken from Burton's slavers, and he blessed their foresight in taking a box of the grenades. It had seemed almost excessive at the time, but now…

"Hey, you! You great, filthy, dinosaur! Yes, you, T-rex! You stink! You vote Labour! Your mother works on street corners! Here, come and eat this; you'll get a bang out of it!" And he threw the grenade around hard, off to the left, as the huge beast roared and came stalking back to snap at the sound of his voice, almost as if it had understood his insults.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Finn and Challenger were approaching the cave, having no knowledge that it was there. But they heard the Tyrannosaur "demonstrating", to use the British term then in vogue for seeing an angry tiger expressing its rage.

They were concerned lest this somehow involve their friends, and had a bad feeling about it. "Still," said Challenger, "if a large carnosaur had gotten our companions, why would it be carrying on that way? It would simply be eating them."

"Gad, Genius! Don't even think like that!" Finn shuddered. She had come to love Marguerite, and Johnny Roxton was like a brother and best-ever male friend. Finn wanted this not to be possible, that they might be taken by a hungry dinosaur. She had been startled to find that Challenger was telling the truth about such things when he had rescued her from New Amazonia, where it had seemed a fantastic tale, told by a madman. But John and Marguerite were from this strange place, too, so she had half believed him. Whole belief had come only after actually seeing these beasts, like something from the nightmare of a drug addict! And now, one of these horrible creatures might be eating two of her best friends!

Challenger saw her face and pulled her to him and kissed her cheek. "Not to worry, Darling. The Roxtons are jolly smart; I doubt if this roaring has anything to do with them. Still, let us go and have a look through binoculars, at a safe distance. We will feel better when we know that this has nothing to do with us."

They crept to the crest of a low knoll overlooking the cave and took out their identical Zeiss 8X30 binoculars. It was at once apparent that the dinosaur was strutting back-and-forth beyond the cave, giving vent to its rage.

It was at this moment that they heard John Roxton shouting insults at it. They saw his arm move out of the cave entrance, narrowly avoiding the snap of jaws that greeted his audacity, and then something small and dark went rolling along the ground.

The T-rex saw it, and being in pain from the bullet wounds and enraged, thought only of lashing out and biting something. It snapped up the object just as its small brain registered that this had looked more like a rock than it had a rat or other small tidbit. It started to spit out the object, which was so hard that the quick snap that had ingested it broke a tooth.

The animal was about to reject the object and roar its frustration and disappointment when the Challengers heard a pronounced "CRUMP!" as the jaws muffled the explosion of the Mills bomb, as the British often called a hand grenade.

A second later, the dinosaur's head blew open, chunks of meat and bone being hurled over fifty yards away!

The fearsome beast, standing so tall and measuring nearly fifty feet long, stood for a moment. Then it broke into a frantic run, no longer under intelligent control. This was simply muscle reaction, like the proverbial chicken with a wrung neck.

Before it had gone a hundred feet, it crashed into a tree, which broke under the impact of its multi-ton weight. But the flailing hind legs became entangled in the tree limbs, and the dead dinosaur fell, hitting the ground with a thud that chilled the marrow in the bones of the human watchers.

"Finn, we have just SEEN something!" uttered a subdued Challenger. No human could fail to be impressed with this awesome drama. He hoped that his fiancée would not have nightmares about it. He hoped that HE would not have nightmares about it...

"George, that has to be Johnny and Marguerite. She borrowed a grenade from me after we ate. No one else here probably has hand grenades, and that looked like one and did the work of one."

"Finn, I am appalled that you should have to know first hand what a grenade can do. I would have preferred to have you sheltered from such sights. Do you think the baby will be affected? Can it sense what you experience?"

"I hope not. Otherwise, its heart would be racing after some of the things that we do in bed!" She laughed. "Genius, unlax and smell the roses! I'm pretty tough, and our son will be too. He is, after all, the child of a big, strong guy and a girl who has seen some pretty wicked stuff before I ever came here."

Challenger managed a chuckle. "So, you are still convinced that the child will be a boy?"

"You bet, Lover! I just know it. We'd better get down there and be sure that Johnny and Marguerite are okay. " She put away her binocular and stood, slinging her rifle on her shoulder.

Challenger also rose, and they moved cautiously down the slope. At one point, they had to detour to avoid a rattlesnake that challenged their passage. Not all of the dangerous animals here were huge.

XXX

In the cave, the Roxtons heard the noise of the explosion and realized that the grenade must have been in the T-rex's mouth, or the blast would have been louder.

They heard the galloping, dead monster crash off and stumble into the tree and slam into the earth.

After a moment, Roxton, sobered by what they had heard, helped Marguerite to stand. He had not quite reached the raised dais within the cave behind which she had sheltered after he threw out the grenade. The explosion had come before he had gotten to her. Now, he walked the final few feet and offered her his hand.

They ventured out cautiously, noting the bits of bloody flesh that lay in a place or two on the floor of the cave and around the entrance. They stared in silence, then looked at the thrashing body of the tyrannosaur some hundred feet away, and stole quietly past the terrifying sight. The huge hind limbs still jerked and thrashed, the neck a bloody stump where the horrible head had been. Roxton paused to collect several big teeth as souvenirs.

As they resumed their course toward the river, Challenger called out, and the Roxtons looked up and to their right, seeing the other couple coming down the slope to meet them.

"We saw that, Johnny!" called Finn. "Wow! What a show! That was better than special effects in DVD movies!" She was excited and showed it.

"If this is what you people in the next century watched on those video machines that you explained, I think I can do without them." Marguerite wondered why anyone would watch such a frightening thing. Well, men. They would watch a bullfight, and this was worse. Then she recalled having attended several bullfights herself and being caught up in the roar of the crowd as the matadors skillfully avoided being impaled on the bulls' horns until it came time to use their swords to slay the enraged animals. And other women had been as thrilled as she was, some openly whispering of how much they wanted the bullfighters' attentions, had that been possible. What a species we humans are, she reflected.

The couples excitedly told one another what each had experienced, and the girls decided to skip their swim. Big dinosaurs like this sometimes travelled near one another, and it was best not to tempt fate by lingering here.

Marguerite, under Roxton's eye, set a compass course for home, and they set off to tell the Malones what they had seen and done this day.

They had gone fewer than 250 yards when they had to take cover when they heard a second T-rex running toward the cave. The fearsome beast trotted past, having either seen or smelled the first, and the blood.

It paused briefly as it passed the explorers, huddling under whatever brush they could find to conceal them. Then, it strode purposefully toward the cave. If it had scented them, it evidently had other things on its mind.

As soon as they dared, the explorers held a hasty, quiet conference. Roxton then left cover to hide behind a tree and used his binocular to see what was happening. He whispered to the others, and they, too, looked, as soon as they were satisfied that the second dinosaur's attention was focused on the first.

It tore savagely at the still twitching carcass of the headless animal, emitting grunts of satisfaction as it ripped at the flesh of its dead peer.

Everyone shivered and Roxton pulled Marguerite to him protectively and kissed her cheek. Finn saw, and stood next to Challenger, who caressed her shoulder. Then, they crept carefully down a gully, hoping that the huge animal's keen sense of hearing would not detect them.

If it did, it was too involved with its unexpected meal to bother to chase humans on this particular balmy afternoon.

A little over an hour later, they were home.

As they went up in the elevator, Finn said to Marguerite, "You know, I think we made the right decision about not swimming today."

Her brunette friend grinned back, "You think?!"

XXX

The girls went up first on the elevator, with Challenger and Roxton taking the next trip. As they got off in the Treehouse, Finn said, "I'm going to run up and tell Vee about those T-rexes. That was awesome!"

"Wait!" urged Marguerite. "If their door is closed, Veronica and Ned are probably rather busy with one another. Either she's dancing for him, or they are otherwise intimately occupied. How would YOU like it if SHE knocked on YOUR door while you and George were abed for purposes other than sleep?!"

"Uh, yeah, I forgot," Finn said sheepishly. "Vee might think it was funny later, but if I interrupt them, Ned would be grouchy for days."

"So would most other men! They like to have their fun when their ladies are in the mood...Come with me into the kitchen. We'll make coffee. I want some to settle my nerves after what John and I went through in that cave! And I want to see your knife. Not the little red Swiss pocketknife; the Bowie that John made. I want one similar, but with some changes, I think. Maybe he can engrave the pommel or do some scrollwork on the guard. Something to lend a touch of elegance, if I have to carry around a knife like I was in a cowboys and Indians movie, or a Tarzan film."

"Vee can engrave the nickel silver pommel, or butt cap. Whichever you want to call it. I've seen her engrave other silver things. She's a heck of an artist! She engraved my initials on mine. I'll show you..."

And so, the Malones were left undisturbed for a while, for which Ned was forever thankful. He was indeed passionately involved with Veronica, who was so excited, herself, that she might have taken awhile to forgive Finn if she had come knocking on her door when they arrived home.

After coffee, they cleaned up, and Roxton and Finn began cooking dinner. Challenger excused himself to check on an experiment in the lab, and Marguerite took a shower. She sang in the shower, to the others' amusement as they passed by.

"I just wish that she would find another song than that ditty about a bloody bird in a gilded cage," grumbled Roxton good naturedly.

"At least, the cage is gilded," observed Finn. "The damned bird has some glamour and luxury in its life. Is that song supposed to mean, like, some chick is a 'kept' woman, and feels a prisoner in her relationship, even if she has a lot of luxury?"

"That sums it up nicely," Roxton agreed. "Here, put these vegetables on to cook." And he handed her bowls of potatoes and carrots. They already had venison roasting.

In time, the Malones came downstairs, Veronica looking shy and feminine and fulfilled. She was blushing, especially after Finn looked into her face and grinned openly. Ned looked inordinately pleased with himself. The cat who ate the canary look, mused Finn...Veronica was wearing the brief lavender loincloth and bra top in which she had danced, and looked wonderful. She had a white flower in her hair.

"I can guess what you two have been doing," teased Roxton. "Let Finn and me tell you what we've been up to." And so, Ned and Veronica learned of the narrow escape that their friends had had.

Marguerite soon joined them, and Challenger was called from the lab, Finn going to fetch him when he failed to appear after calling up that he would. She knew how he tended to forget things when he was immersed in an experiment...

When the Challengers returned, Veronica had donned the sarong to her Zanga outfit, at Marguerite's pointed suggestion. The brunette member of the female trio had been slightly miffed that all the men would be looking at their hostess, if she dressed that way at dinner. What she actually said was, "Sweetie, why don't you go put on some clothes? I'd hate for you to get burned, helping in the kitchen."

Veronica looked embarrassed, but amused, and had gone for the sarong, which, goodness knew, was short enough that her legs would still be well displayed. She had come to relish male attention since becoming involved with Ned, more aware of her charms, and proud of them. Overall, she was less vain than either Marguerite or Finn, taking some of her admiring looks in stride, for granted. She had always drawn such looks from men, and had learned to accept that as a matter of course. She remained essentially modest, for a girl with her looks. But she was now more aware of herself as a desirable woman, and understood better the lengths to which other women went to get attention that she had come to accept as her due. Tonight, she was pleased to wear this and bask in male admiration, never mind what the other girls thought. In fact, she was a little pleased to upstage them. She was in that sort of mood after what Ned had told her during their romp upstairs.

The best part was knowing that Ned had really meant the adoring words that he had used. Now, Veronica wanted to see from their faces that the other men also liked looking at her. As her pal Finn might have said, this was such a total kick to a girl's ego...

In truth, Veronica, although hungry, was looking forward to dinner for more than one reason. Apart from being admired, she wanted to hear the others' adventures. And Finn was eager to share them, helped along the way at times by their friends.

All agreed that the Roxtons had been fortunate to escape the teeth of the hungry Tyrannosaur. Finn even jokingly told Marguerite that she would forgive her the blonde joke she'd made in asking for the grenade. Veronica had to hear about this, and smiled, shaking her head at the running string of blonde jokes that Marguerite contrived to tease the other two girls.

Challenger commented on the excellent venison, from a brocket deer that Roxton had shot two days before. All agreed that the meat from this prime animal was good, and they were pleased with their vegetable garden. Blackberries made a fine dessert, with coffee for all but Veronica, who drank it only occasionally.

They talked awhile, and Marguerite studied Finn's and Veronica's knives with Roxton, deciding on the exact style that she wanted. He sketched it as they talked, and promised to make it in a week or so. Until it was ready, Marguerite could carry an American Marble's brand knife called the Ideal model. It would enable her to build an emergency shelter if needed, cut vines, and get some sticks for kindling, should she need to build a campfire.

"Good for dressing out and skinning fish and game, too," commented Roxton. "Or, in dire extreme, if you have an empty gun or need to kill silently, it will do what needs doing to a human enemy or a hungry puma. A big jaguar might be pushing matters, unless you stabbed him in the neck at once. A bite or two from one of those, and you'll likely have a broken shoulder or arm, and be helpless."

"Thanks so much for telling me." Marguerite shuddered. She took their cups to the kitchen for more coffee. (NOTE: the author once interviewed a Canadian man who was mauled by a cougar/puma on Vancouver Island. This man later appeared on a Discovery TV program that also featured two other survivors of cougar attacks. He was severely injured, but saved himself with a Schrade (brand) lockblade folding knife. I also know of one case where a very similar knife, made by the famous Buck firm, saved a man from an attack by a coastal grizzly bear, in Alaska. He must have struck a vital nerve or artery, and is still alive. For years, that knife was displayed in Charles T. Buck's office. And I know of a man who successfully stabbed an African lion in the heart with his sheath knife. But stabbing large predators isn't as easy as it is in Tarzan movies, and those who survive the experience are usually badly injured. But at least some do that, and live. Without a good knife, they'd have died. And been eaten!)

Finn joined her there. "Will you let me help you sew tomorrow, Marguerite? I want to make George a shirt. Vee wove the cloth, but I need help cutting out the pattern and sewing it."

They agreed to do that, and Finn and Marguerite alike felt wanted and loved, something that they prized. Until each had come to belong to this group, such feelings were foreign to them.

The men decided to fish, perhaps shooting another deer if they chanced across one. Roxton and Challenger told Ned Malone about a place on the nearby river where the peacock "bass" struck savagely and fought hard. They were good to eat, too. (NOTE: these fish, called Pavon or Tucanare in Brazil, are not true bass.)

"I need to write about this fish and that weird thing called a Payara, with the teeth in the lower jaw that come out of its nostrils. If I ever get home, Sports Afield or, Field & Stream should buy the story." Malone looked intrigued.

Veronica looked uneasy and asked Ned if he still meant to leave the Plateau. "I accepted this ring from you with the understanding that we would live here," she noted.

Ned protested that he should be allowed to leave, but that he was willing to return with her. "I'm not breaking up with you, Baby, even if it means living here. But we need more supplies, and I want to buy you some fashionable clothes and impress every man who sees you on my arm. And you won't believe what all I can show you in New York and London before we come back home." He thought with a shock that here had indeed become home.

"Other women won't make fun of me?" she asked anxiously.

"Marguerite may, but she does that here," Ned replied, winking at their brunette lady. "Seriously, Veronica, you'll impress even the women. Be prepared for some jealousy, though. Some of them will wish they looked like you do. Other than that, I'll guide you, and Finn or Marguerite will be there a lot of the time, to help you get accustomed to shopping in stores, ordering in restaurants, and that sort of thing. Girls? Will we be seeing you a lot in London, anyway?"

Finn said that she was sure that Challenger would be happy to let her accompany Marguerite and Veronica as Marguerite showed the Anglo-Brazilian girls the joys and cautions of a major city.

Veronica, now reassured that Ned was committed to her, relaxed and asked many questions about what she would see and what manners she would need to remember in civilization. Ned held her hand and his eyes shone as he told her all that he wanted to show her. Veronica realized that he loved her with all his heart and she leaned over and kissed him.

Finally, the couples cleaned up and drifted off to bed.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

In their room, Veronica and Ned talked intensely about leaving the Plateau, how long they might stay away, and when to have their first child. Finally, Ned went to the bathroom down the hall.

When he returned, Veronica was swaying her hips sensually, her back to him. When she turned, she unfastened the knot holding her sarong and laid it aside. Still moving gracefully, she reached back with both hands to release the bra top in the way that Finn had shown her, which was likely to thrill a man watching. Now topless, she swayed her hips and arms to imaginary music, remembered from the phonograph that afternoon, when she had danced her penance for the performance in the Zanga village.

Ned stood enthralled. Finally, he walked over to her and took her in his arms and led her to bed. Her loincloth soon went the way of the sarong and the bra top, and from this point, we will draw the curtain on the Malones for the night. Suffice to say, they were quite tired when they finally lay close to one another, holding hands as Ned told Veronica again how wonderful she was, and how lucky he was to have her as his woman. Later, Veronica smiled broadly as she drifted off to sleep, snuggled next to her American reporter. I hope that Ned doesn't write about what we do together, she thought. I bet that stories like that would be illegal. She laughed to herself, squeezed Ned's hand and slept.

XXX

George Challenger and Nicole Finnegan were tired, but content as they undressed and put away their clothes and equipment.

"Marguerite said that she really likes the new Smith & Wesson like mine, but with the shorter barrel," commented Finn. She took Challenger's trousers from his hand and hung them on a hanger, smoothing them before she put them on the rack in the closet.

"Good," replied her man. "I daresay that she will someday be glad of its added power. I hate to think of you ladies having to use revolvers except in sport, but reality here is that you both will probably have to shoot occasional snakes or even men before we reach civilization. I half wish that Ned had not brought up going to London tonight. It made me homesick," he admitted wistfully.

"Isn't home wherever we are?" asked Finn, hoping to cheer him.

He brightened. "Yes, Darling, but as Ned said, there is so much that he and I will love showing to you and to Veronica. And our real home will be the one that we will buy in Kent, where we shall raise that child that you are carrying, and maybe a brother or sister for him. It will be the first time that you will be able to call someplace home and know that it is indeed just that. I have never really been at home before, wherever I have lived. There are so many things that I want to have in that home, that we may fully enjoy it. But the first item that makes anywhere my home is you."

"Will I pass okay as English?" she asked, a little concerned. "I know that I don't look or sound Brazilian. Ned says that I can pass for American. Is that good? I don't want to embarrass you."

Challenger chuckled. "Just don't shoot anyone unless it is truly necessary," he joked. "The British don't understand honor killings as they do here. Fortunately, the chances of having to shoot someone are remote, at least in the areas that we will frequent, and where we will live. Nor will you have to worry about dinosaurs and big cats trying to eat you. The Inland Revenue are another matter. They will gobble up as much of our treasure in taxes as they can, and I will have to hire a sharp barrister to keep their hands off as much as possible. But we shall certainly be rich. Even more so after I sell a few inventions. As Mrs. George Challenger, wife of a distinguished scientist, you will not only be accepted; you will be deferred to by merchants and most others whom you will meet. And your American accent will be accepted. America gave us a needed hand in the Great War. Most Britons will be tolerant of you, even like you, as they get to know you."

"Cool," she conceded. She ran her fingers around the waistband of her black, lace-trimmed panties. "Are we going to fool around tonight? I'm pretty tired. Can we just cuddle? I'm going to leave these on if it's okay with you."

"By all means, do, Finn. I, too, am tired, and I love to feel your pretty bum through that smooth material. It is surely one of the purest delights than a man can know in this life."

Finn walked over and reached up to kiss his lips. "Genius, you say the sweetest things," she smiled. "I still can't believe that I'm standing next to one of the greatest scientists of all time, and what he finds to talk about is feeling my behind."

"Well, it is an exceptional behind," he noted. "And even brilliant men such as I am cannot fail to be impressed with it. Come to bed. There are other things that we need to discuss, then I want to sleep before I go fishing with the other lads tomorrow."

They set their revolvers by their sides of the bed, with candles and matches nearby, in case of nocturnal emergency. Then, they put out the light and lay next to one another, talking of the impending baby and how to raise it in the jungle.

They cuddled, sometimes rubbing noses as they whispered their love and their hope for a bright future. Finn lay next to Challenger, listening with rapt attention to what he said. Her heart filled with joy as he told her how much she meant to him, and what their life would be like off of the Plateau.

As the Moon crept its silent way across the sky, they slept, snuggled tightly together. Just before slumber claimed her, Finn thought, Mrs. George Challenger. What I aspire to be and will be. And I will be the best wife that this great man could hope to have! I'd better get to sleep. I want to get up in time to get him and Johnny and Ned fed before they leave on that fishing trip. Next time, just George and I or maybe another couple can come. I want to catch one of those Payara fish.

She found Challenger's hand and put it on her womb. He stirred briefly and she moved her hips back against his manhood. Then, holding the hand to her, she slept the sleep of the tired and of the joyful.

XXX

John Roxton and Marguerite Krux entered their room, and Roxton tossed his hat onto a side table and took off his gun belt, sighing with weariness.

"This has been quite a day," he commented.

"Well, we survived it," she noted. "Could have been worse. I've actually HAD worse days. And we were together. With you beside me, I feel that we can overcome any danger; meet any challenge. Of course, I was already doing that before I met you." She stuck out her tongue playfully at him.

"I can't imagine how, not even being able to read a compass properly, being able to use it with a map to find your way. I'd say that you're better off with me than without, Marguerite." He smirked.

"Right you are, Roxton. Come over here and pull off my boots. Demonstrate your usefulness. You're always trying to undress me, anyway." She sat on the bed and extended her legs for him to take her footwear. Her eyes twinkled as he approached.

He took her boots and set them beside the chair where she usually sat to put them on. This left him near the door from their room to the balcony outside. On impulse, he walked over and unlatched it and stood on the balcony, smelling the verdant night, hearing its sounds, trying to identify which animals made which noises.

He felt her beside him, and she reached out to touch his shoulder.

"John? What is it? I was teasing. Did I insult you or something? It wasn't my intention."

"No, I'm fine," he replied, turning to hold her hand, seeing that her skirt was now off. "Sometimes, I like to just stand here, listening, looking. As much as I yearn to return home, there are things about this place that I will miss. This and other wild places where I have been call out to me. They stir my soul; make my existence more vital. It's the elemental world out there, Marguerite. The natural order of things. I like being a part of that, knowing that I can hold my own in savage circumstances. War is different. It was an adventure, but one of which I easily had my fill. This, I want for all of my life. I want us to go to Africa, India, Alaska. Maybe a time or two a year, for perhaps a month or three. It connects me to my primitive side, I suppose.

"There's a certain primal rush of adrenaline when I stand before a bull elephant that has been destroying native crops and killing people and I know that in a moment, the elephant will die, or I will. I like the surge that comes when I have to follow a Cape buffalo that has escaped wounded into the long grass, and I have to go in after it because some fool muffed his shot at it.

"I don't want to do that too often, and I am not suicidal enough to face lions on foot frequently. There are too many headstones in Nairobi cemetery reading, 'Killed By a Lion". I don't want to find my way to a messy death like that. But sometimes, I'll risk it. It gives life meaning and purpose and satisfaction."

"So, you feel a connection to the wilder side of things by standing out here and drinking in the smells and sounds and sights of this place?" she wanted to know.

He nodded. "Yes, Marguerite. It's what I am. Me, the jaguar, the raptor, all brothers to some degree. I like thinking of the hunt, and of the hunted, and of that huge, full moon up there tonight and the world that it illuminates. Can you understand any of this? Is the concept too alien?"

"Oh, sure, "she said. "Man, the hunter. Man, the survivor and coper, the master of nature, of all that he beholds. I sense that in you. It scares me, and it thrills me, too. I want to belong to a man like that, one who will face an angry lion if he sees a need and who thrills to it. Maybe I'm a little wild, myself. Yes, I'll go to Africa and those other places with you. But, John, you have set limits for me, which I will respect and obey. I am your woman now, and I will not try to tame you. I wouldn't want you tamed. You wouldn't be yourself.

"But Darling John, you have an obligation to me now, too. Will you try to have relatively safe adventures, and not expose yourself recklessly to danger? I dread to think of anything happening to you, now that I have fallen for you. I want to know that you don't hate yourself for your brother's killing. Will that lead you to take chances like I've read that you have? Like you did in the war? I'm proud of your Victoria Cross, but I read the citation for it. You could have been killed! Nearly were. Were you trying to somehow atone for William's death by getting yourself killed? I don't want to have fallen in love with a man who hates his past so much that he won't try to live, for us." She held him by the waist, looking intensely into his eyes.

Roxton leaned down and kissed her. "Marguerite, there was a time when I did hate myself. Felt enormous guilt. I have gotten over that. You have helped, as has Challenger, with whom I have spoken privately about the matter. I listened to him, and he made sense. He told me that I have no right to risk myself to made amends for what was an accident in the first place. That I owe him and the rest of you a duty to stay alive and to help others to. Finn told me the same. They're right. I woke up one day and told myself that I needed to leave the past in the past, to let old agonies be bygones.

"Loving you has made that easier. I have more to live for. And if we have children, I cannot deny them a father because I wanted to take too many foolish chances with wild animals.

"Rest assured, I want some adventure. It will always be a part of me. But I will be more prudent than I was at times. What I sense here, being part of the night, doesn't mean that I want to be reckless. Just that I want to commune with Nature. Look: the Moon is so beautiful. It reminds me of you."

"What!" she exclaimed. "You're saying that I have a Moon face?" But she smiled, and he knew that she had understood, and could now joke with him.

He nuzzled her nose. "Marguerite Krux, I love you and I want you, and I will protect you from the demons of the Plateau and of the press when we arrive home. I can barely wait to have a vicar proclaim us man and wife, and shout to the world that you are mine and that I am proud of it!" He played with her hair, toying with her ears, and she felt weak in the knees. Little crackles of electricity tingled all over her body. He felt her tremble in his grasp, and he led her back into the room, and latched the door.

They sat side-by-side on the bed as he undressed, and she went to hang his clothes as he passed them to her. She removed her blouse and bra, remembering to face him, seeming oblivious to his presence. But when she bent one knee and reached back with both hands to unhook the bra, he knew that she was doing this for his eyes.

She saw the way that he looked at her, and was glad that she had chosen to please him in this intimate little gesture. It made her feel desirable and excited her.

Marguerite walked sensually over to Roxton, making each step that she took one that made his heart race faster. Marguerite knew how to do a slow strut that grabbed a man's attention and revved his circulation as if he had run a mile.

"I believe that I promised you a rather nice time tonight with a former slave girl," she breathed. "Care to collect on my offer?"

"I won't even pretend to think this over, Marguerite," he responded. "A man would be a fool to pass up something like that. Come here; I want to take your knickers. "

He pulled her to him and stripped her of her final garment, noting that they were a lovely color, some sort of pale purple with a lot of blue in it.

"What shade is this, anyway? Not your lavender ones, to match your blouse. Periwinkle?"

She chuckled. "A good guess, for a man. Yes, that's what Challenger came up with when I asked for dyes to make periwinkle and cornflower lingerie. I made myself three pair,and a couple more for Veronica. Finn wanted a really dark, rich blue, and some true purple ones. Challenger made those colors, too, commenting that purple had been an expensive dye in Roman times. But nothing is too good for Finn. He came up with the shade she wanted. Along with some more black ones, of course. John, stop playing with those. Whatever are you doing?" She looked at him, baffled, yet amused.

"I'm taking a good look at what these look like off of you," he explained. "They look better on you, but you aren't getting these back. I want to put them in my pack and take them out on the trail sometimes, and think of you."

"Why?" she queried. "That sounds a trifle kinky, doesn't it?"

He shrugged. "I never said that I wasn't a little perverse when it comes to sex. There are ladies who could tell you things about me that would embarrass me, if I was easily embarrassed. I did have the reputation of being somewhat of a rake, I'm afraid. As you pointed out to me a few times when you thought that I just wanted you as my next conquest...

"Seriously, I want to keep these. They'll remind me of you, and make me feel as if I have a piece of you with me, whenever we're apart. I can take them out when hunting or scouting and feel that you're with me, even if you're back home in the Treehouse. They will remind me of what I have to come home to. Rather like a medieval lady giving her knight a handkerchief or scarf as a token of her favor." He looked boldly at her and smiled that smile that was so HIM, when he knew that he had her at a disadvantage.

"Well, at least, let me give you a clean pair. Are you sure that you want periwinkle? I have some black ones, or those lavender ones that you like. Finn and I are sewing tomorrow. I'll make myself a new pair of whichever color that you chose."

He thought. "Give me one each of black and lavender. I like thinking of you wearing the latter while in that lavender blouse. You can have these back when I get the others. " He grinned lasciviously at her, and she melted inside, knowing what would come next as he pulled her to him and tripped her so that she fell onto the bed beside him.

"And now, former slave girl, let us see what you remember of your talents in the harem of that hedonistic sultan." (See, "A Prisoner of the Sultan, Or, How Marguerite Learned to Dance" in Fiction on this board.)

"Yes, Master," she breathed. "I will be the vessel of your pleasure. Command me, that I may delight you in the way that most pleases you. Punish me if I am less than fully satisfactory."

"Oh, you're always fully satisfactory. I didn't ask you to marry me just because you say funny things. And it certainly wasn't because you were an exceptional cook."

She chuckled. "Well, where shall we begin?" She kissed him, and moved to kneel between his legs. "Why don't we start with me using my mouth for something besides talking? Let me know when you want me to move on to something else. If I get you too excited, say so. I'd hate to give you a heart attack."

Roxton looked at her and said, "Marguerite, I have had one long, continuous heart attack since I met you. Being with you is more exciting than getting a new rifle!" He winked, to show her that he was teasing.

"You talk boldly, Lord Roxton. By the time that I am through with you tonight, you will feel like you have had a whole set of rifles delivered fresh from Holland & Holland." She lowered her head and began doing things that made him feel very excited indeed.

And soon, she was the recipient of his own ministrations that left her moaning his name and clutching at his back as if he was a life preserver and she had been drowning at sea. If there was anything that she loved more than diamonds, it was John Roxton, and what he did to her before they merged, and after, made her think that she would - almost- give every gemstone in her possession to have this happen to her several times a week. The best part of it was that it cost her nothing except a look that said that she would be putty in his hands if he cared to have her. She got to keep her jewels and have Roxton, also.

And that, she exulted, was the very essence of having one's cake and eating it, too...

She heard mewing noises, as if a woman was in heat, expressing her passion in a primitive, wanton way, and was shocked to realize that it was her own voice. Roxton would be so smug when they were done, she thought, but being his so completely, having him drive her this wild, was worth it. She swung up her legs and circled his waist with them. I want to hold onto John this way forever, she thought.

Three times that night, they coupled, talking between.

Finally, exhausted after trying everything that appealed to either of them, they lay in one another's' arms, cuddling and telling each other how much fun they had had.

"This is invariably the highlight of my day," mused Roxton. "Having you show me how a REAL woman makes love never ceases to amaze me and delights my senses."

Marguerite razzed, "You have senses? Oh, yes, you were smelling the hearty outdoors earlier tonight. I trust that I made your INDOORS sport fun? Seriously, John, what you do to me awakens and tingles every fiber of my being. Until you, I had sex, usually to achieve a purpose, even if it was just physical release. I was afraid to become more emotionally involved. With you, I have learned to actually make love. For that, I thank you, from the bottom of my heart. It frightens me a little, thinking of just how much I have come to care for you. Love is wonderful, but it has its price. Now, I have to be terrified that this isn't real; that my dream will end when I wake. Or, that something will happen to you. Or, to us."

"Nothing is going to happen to US, as long as you move your body like that! I'd be a fool to hope that any other woman would be half as entertaining. If ever I have been jealous of another man, it is of that damned sultan who enjoyed you so much before I did. But he doubtless had you hone your skills so that I can now enjoy them more fully than might otherwise be the case. And I love your banter, the way that you tease, your droll jokes."

"Well," she replied, "my jokes are basically survival humor, very useful on this bloody Plateau. My humor is so dry that you can rub two of my jokes together and get a fire. Nice work, that, isn't it? I never have to worry about running out of matches." She ran a hand lazily down the length of his body, noting how he reacted.

He muttered, "Quit that, Marguerite. If you linger there, you'll start something that I'm too tired to complete again tonight. That trip and the T-rex episode took a lot out of me today."

She laughed. "Thank goodness for that! I'd hate to have you able to do more to me than you did! I'd have to be a nymphomaniac to cope with you!" That thought appealed to her. "And along those lines, have you ever met a real nympho? Could even you cope with that?"

"Not sure, but I'd have to be more rested than I was tonight, to even try. Look, do you want to shower? There should be some hot water."

"Nope. Too damned dead to stagger downstairs and back up. I'll go down and shower with you before you go fishing in the morning. I want to help the other girls make breakfast for you before you and the other lads go have fun while Finn and I labor at the sewing and Veronica tends the garden. Gad, I hope she doesn't want me to dust again."

"I know, " he laughed, and took her hand. "Heavy, heartless, industrial labor, I believe you called it last time. You always find ways to amuse me, Darling. Look, I am truly glad that you thought to borrow that grenade today. But this place is growing old, even for my adventurous soul. Ladies should borrow a cup of sugar from one another, not hand grenades. Do you think that Challenger will think of a way to get us out of here, or shall we resign ourselves to being stuck? We'll need to think about having children if we do, with the attendant difficulty of raising them in this dismal backwater."

She looked at him with concern, her chin propped up as she rested an elbow on the bed. "John, are you really asking if I want to be the next woman after Finn to get preggers here? Do you want that? If I'm going to reproduce, I do need to think about it soon. I am already 34, no spring chicken. And Veronica is getting past her mid-20's. She and Ned will have to reach a decision on that in the next year or two. If we all start having children, how will that affect our situation with the Zanga? Will they continue to tolerate us? How will we build a new home? This Treehouse was never meant for three couples and their offspring."

"A set of good questions," he admitted. "We can wait to see what happens with George and Finn. How we all adapt to her first child. That will provide useful clues to what we'll need in the way of child care. Finn loves George enormously, but she is going to resent not being able to hunt or go have adventures whenever she wants. As feminine as she is, Finn is basically a tomboy, an adventuress, in the best possible sense of the word."

"And I have been an 'adventuress' in the less desirable sense, although the common meaning." Marguerite was uneasy. "Maybe we shouldn't give up hope. But if we don't find a way out of here, via one of George's mad schemes or just through discovering a trail down off the Plateau, do you want to become a father?"

"Yes, I think that I would like to try that, if it's all right with you. Lets wait another year and if we aren't en route back to England by then, discuss this in earnest. I will do whatever you want, but I think that I do want a son to teach the manly arts, including hunting. To know that another generation of Roxtons will carry on my bloodline and hopefully, remain civilized enough that when our descendants are eventually found that they aren't savages or as primitive as the other whites on this Plateau. Will you have my children, Marguerite? Do you want that year to decide?"

She bit at her lip, thinking intensely. "Yes, a year seems good. We can't avoid the matter much longer. I've dreaded becoming a mother, and yet longed for it, if afraid that I wasn't emotionally equipped for it. But the lonliness that I have experienced has made me think how I can be a better mother than what I had. Let me see how I fare in helping Finn, as I'm sure that I will. She'll need assistance with the child, and I will see how I handle that. I think it will either repel me, or make me wish for a child of our own. Does this make sense?"

"A great deal of sense. I will see how I fare as a sort of godfather or whatever, too. I think that we'll make the right decision when the time comes. But I rather hope that we get off the Plateau first. As soon as the young Challenger is able to travel. If possible, I want us back in Britain when you conceive, with nannies to help you."

"All right," she agreed. "In the meantime, I will stay on George's little birth control pills and hope that they work. And we can continue to practice how to conceive. We should have that technique down pretty well by the time that a year has passed. I must say, you are already about all that my heart can stand in that regard."

"I haven't noticed you declining any opportunities to be stimulated," he leered. "Time to put out the light?"

"Yes, do. I'll get a blanket first, in case the night turns cold."

A few minutes later, she tucked herself in next to Roxton and said. "Whatever comes, we have one another now, John. That means the world to me."

"And to me. George and Finn amuse me with that claim that theirs is the love of the ages, the romance of all time. What we have is quite enough for us. I love you, Marguerite, very much indeed."

She leaned over and kissed him. "When I was on my own this week, I wanted more than anything to get back to you and the others. The days when I thought that I'd never have truly loyal friends are gone. And to have what I do with you, John, is the most priceless thing in my life."

He held her tenderly, and they drifted off to sleep, his hand cupping her right breast, her hand atop his. Important decisions lay in their future, but for now, they had all of the answers that they needed about one another. The rest would come. And Marguerite knew that they would reach the right conclusions, about everything. She counted her blessings, and slept.

The End

Epilogue: As some readers will have guessed, Finn's child was a boy, named Arthur. For more about an older Arthur, see, "Of Families, Shopping, and Shikar" and, "Thunderbolt over Burma". His sister Caroline and the two Roxton children also appear in the former.