Xingu!

by Gemini Explorer

Marguerite and Finn go after emeralds on a girls' day out expedition, but are stalked by bloodthirsty Xingu headhunters who've come to attack the Zanga. Can John and Veronica save them and the Treehouse? Intense M&R and other couples interaction.

READ THIS FIRST: This is a Mature Rated Fic, and contains scenes with sexual activity, limited adult language, and violence. Some material may shock the shy or very conservative reader. (However, it is no more daring than many bestselling novels.) Some readers have asked for "racier" scenes among the lovers, especially between M&R, and I have tried to accomodate that desire while remaining in good taste. As with all, "Lost World" Fics, I do not own rights to the basic theme by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, or to the New Line Cinema characters, etc. Thanks to the rights holders for permission to write stories with their characters.

Some relationships and situations may not be precisely as depicted on the TV series on which the Fic is based. In particular, there are now three couples in the Treehouse, which differs from the situation at the end of the Third Season of TLW. There is no reason why those persons couldn't have fallen in love, as M&R had already done on the show before it ended. The setting is beyond the Third Season and ignores the possible Fourth Season , which never materialized. "Xingu!" is pronounced as SHEEN-goo. That tribe is used fictionally here, and no insult is meant to any actual tribesmen of the modern era, or to their personal ancestors. The term Xingu can be applied to many tribes living along the Xingu River drainage, but the one in this story trekked farther north than most and settled near the Plateau some two generations before our story takes place. Like elements of the Jivaro and Yanomami tribes, they are often at odds with the Zanga and other peoples on the Plateau. These particular Xingu are headhunters! That does enliven our tale, and terrifies those subject to their depredations. The reader is encouraged to Search for the tribes mentioned and see their traditional dress, weapons, and dwellings. If some of those pictures and the image of those warriors stalking Finn and Marguerite with their faces painted for war don't scare you, you must have a very limited imagination! This is edited into chapters, to help you find your place, if you can't read it all at once. Please read and review. And now, our (scary) story:

This is dedicated to Kawells. I hope she enjoys it!

"Xingu!"

By

Gemini Explorer

Breakfast had ended in the Treehouse, and the occupants had drifted off to their particular projects for the day. Finn and Veronica were working in the garden when Finn broached the idea of a girls' day off, to explore the jungle. In particular, she wanted to visit some ancient ruins some ten miles away.

"Want to go, Vee?" the slender blonde asked her best friend.

"Can't, Finn. Ned and I are making some trade goods for our next trip to the bazaar, what you so charmingly call the Zanga Mall." She smiled to take any sting out of her words. "Sounds like fun, though. Ask Marguerite. Aren't George and John going to be busy with elevator maintenance, anyway? Did George say that you could go?"

"Yes, 'Mommy', I have permission from George. He thought it would be fun for us. Truth be told, I think the guys want some time to themselves. If I don't watch it, I tend to smother George, and he's a very independent guy. We're together a lot, and I need to remember to give him some space, too."

"Ask Marguerite," repeated the Layton lass. "She may be bored. Tell her that you may find emeralds. That'll get her to go!" And Veronica laughed heartily at her assessment of their mutual friend, the only brunette woman in their Treehouse.

"Sounds good," admitted Finn. "I just wanted to give you first crack at it. What if we DO find emeralds?"

"Then Marguerite needs them far more than I do. I have all the jewels that I need. Go ask her. You don't want to get too late a start if you girls do go there. It's quite a ways. You may be gone for two or three days. Are you sure that George can stand not being with you for that long?"

"Yeah," Finn grinned. "I promised him some extra 'action' when we get back."

Veronica snorted. "Gad, Finn! Sometimes, your sense of humor is as bad as that of the boys. Go on; ask her. I bet she'd like that trip. Use a good compass and make notes as you go."

Finn found Marguerite and told her about the ruins.

"They do seem culturally interesting, and I've heard the legend that they find emeralds in the stream near there. I could use a break. Let me ask John if he has anything pressing for me. If not, I'll join you."

And that is how Marguerite and Finn came to find themselves in as much danger as they had ever faced, battling weather, headhunters, and savage animals.

XXX

The girls gathered their equipment and filled canteens. Challenger insisted that they take some basic medical items, including his brilliant powdered drug that had antibiotic properties before the world had discovered antibiotics as such. He molded this into tablets.

Their other items were largely those that they always carried when in the jungle. Marguerite carried her Smith & Wesson hammerless .38 revolver with four-inch barrel. She never wore a knife, just carrying the switchblade pocket knife that she had taken from Avery Burton. When he had captured her and Finn (See, "A Night in the Lost World", by TLW Scribes), he had been pleased to find that she still had this knife, which she had stolen from him on his prior visit to the Plateau.

When the girls had been searched, he had found the knife and appropriated it, only to lose it again, with his life, when they were rescued. Marguerite had made a point of taking it off his body, and she carried it in a leather pocket sewn into a boot top. She intended it only for emergency use, mainly as a weapon. When she needed something cut, unless it was a simple job like snipping a loose thread on her skirt, she simply called for one of the men. They had larger knives, and more complex pocketknives. In fact, Finn had brought a Swiss Army knife from the future, and it was always with her, its tools ever useful.

Roxton had offered to make Marguerite a small Bowie knife like that which he had made for Finn (See, "The Christmas Story"), but she had declined. "If I have my own knife, what would I need you for?" she had quipped. "Besides, I don't want to have to carry any more weight than I have to, and I seldom need to cut or slice anything. And the sheath might rub against and abrade my skirt or jodhpurs." Jodhpurs were the riding breeches that she occasionally wore in lieu of a skirt. But she favored the skirt most of the time, as it allowed air to reach her legs, a treat in the warm climate.

Marguerite often did carry a rifle, and on this trip, with no men along to kill game for food or to defend against dangerous animals or humans, she knew that she had better take one. She debated whether to take her .275 Rigby, built on a Mauser action, or the Lee-Enfield sporting rifle, made by BSA Co., Ltd., a maker of the military Lee-Enfields. On the side, they also made these very nice hunting rifles on the same action (mechanism) as that of the British service rifle.

She had a good idea of which would be best for this trip, but decided to ask John Roxton. Mainly, she wanted to have something to talk to him about before leaving him behind. Roxton had mulled the matter over, noting that either would be adequate for men or most animals short of large dinosaurs.

"But the Lee can be loaded with stripper clips, like the military rifle. We don't have any clips for the Mauser actions. Burton didn't sell any to the Zanga rebels. Take a few of those loaded clips. You put one in the charger guide milled into the rifle's receiver, and then just press all five cartridges down into the magazine. It's faster than loading single rounds by hand. If you get into anything heavy, being able to reload quickly could make a difference. But, Marguerite, if you see any real danger that you can avoid, don't get involved. FINN! Come over here. Listen, if you girls see trouble coming, avoid it. Don't try to have an adventure. Finn, I expect you to watch over Marguerite.

"You ladies mean the world to me. Finn, you're my usual hunting partner, and I know that you can shoot. I also know that you like adventures. Try not to have one. You're responsible for Marguerite, too, and you know how much you both mean to me. All right?"

Finn gave him an appraising look. "Johnny, do you really think that I would take a chance with my own life, let alone Marguerite's? I didn't get to be 23 years old by being careless. I like adventures, but I don't take foolish risks. And I'm responsible not only to you but to George. And Marguerite has become one of the closest friends that I've ever had. I'll be careful. And she's too lazy to get into anything that we don't have to." She grinned.

Marguerite heard this and arched an eyebrow at Finn. She was about to make a tart remark when Roxton continued.

"Finn, I know. If I didn't trust both of you to be careful, I wouldn't let either of you do this."

"Since when are you in charge of me, Johnny?" she retorted. "The last I heard, we were all equal, except for George, who's our leader. And I never even swore any allegiance to him. I came along after you people joined this expedition."

Marguerite saw her chance. "Finn, we never actually signed any oath of allegiance. George was just our chosen leader, and the one who had the idea for the expedition. I financed it, remember. But inasmuch as you've raised the issue, are you not his fiancée, prepared to swear before a priest to love, honor, and obey him? Anyway, I know you, Sweetie: if you thought that something would really bother George Challenger, you'd never do it. That's what love does to you. It takes away some of your independence."

"Well, that's a two-way street, Marguerite," the young blonde retorted. "Like you'd really do anything that'd bug Johnny." She smirked.

"Right, I admit that," the brunette Briton replied. "Now that my little secret is out in the open, and we all, including me, know that I'm in love with Lord Roxton, it does impede my actions at times. You may have noticed that I've gotten nicer over the years that I've been here, and now that I have admitted to everyone, especially to myself, that I want to be his wife, I try not to embarrass him or anger him. I'm not trying to say that I'm better than you, Finn. I'm just saying that we're pulling oars in the same boat. Just as I probably wouldn't disobey John, I know that you would never, without really good reason, do anything that you knew would upset George." She smirked. "After all, if he was mad at you, he might not let you butter his bread, which he is perfectly capable of doing by himself."

"Ladies...," said an embarrassed Roxton.

"It's cool, Johnny," said Finn. "She's right. I don't know how we got off track onto this, but Marguerite knows me. I won't disobey George unless I have a very good cause, and she owes allegiance to you as her future husband, just as I do to George. And Marguerite, I have recently seen you butter the occasional slice of bread for your own man." She smiled. The other women had long teased her for pampering Challenger, but Marguerite had recently taken to more openly nurturing Roxton, also. Finn knew that it had something to do with a two day span in which Roxton and Marguerite had stayed alone in the Treehouse while the others went in search of diamonds and medicinal plants. (See, "Sultry")

She didn't know just what had taken place, for Marguerite and Roxton were both private people, and her attempts to worm the truth from them had failed. She had not pressed the matter, but she knew that they had had an extraordinarily pleasurable session of lovemaking that had deeply affected Marguerite, who had since seemed even more devoted to John, showing him more deference than she had before. She retained her sharp tongue, but used it less, and she often went to stand by Roxton when there was no need, and they were often seen holding hands, and had even been caught feeding one another from off each others' plates and giggling like love-struck teens. Finn had teased them a little, but she sensed that whatever this was, was so wonderful that her heart wasn't in making fun of something that she admired so much. Not that Marguerite had shown her such consideration when she razzed her for taking such good care of George. Still, Finn was so happy for her friends that she wasn't going to taunt them for their love. Instead, she had found herself smiling with intense pleasure when she saw them nuzzling one another's' noses when they thought that no one could see. Marguerite had even been known to sit on John's lap, something that she definitely teased Finn for doing with her own man. The Roxton couple was still more reserved than she was, and Challenger was also more open about their love, once he had committed to Finn. But the Malones and the Roxtons were somewhat more subdued in public displays of affection. Still, everything was relative, and both of the other couples had been more open of late as they had grown into the idea of belonging to one another and being very happy for it!

Marguerite blushed as Finn unexpectedly stepped over and hugged her. "Marguerite, I don't want to argue. You're my friend and Johnny is, too. Lets' get back to talking rifles." That was something that she could do for hours, as Marguerite knew. She sometimes grew bored of hearing Finn and Roxton discuss guns, hunting, wild animals, history, and such. She had dubbed them the Gun People, and at such times, withdrew to have coffee with Veronica, who viewed this with amusement.

Marguerite was taken unawares, and then she hugged Finn back. Being a Briton, she was usually somewhat reserved about hugging in public, although the explorers were really somewhat of a family by now. Finn, on the other hand, was basically a Brazilian, born probably on this Plateau, certainly raised here from a very early age. She was of Anglo parentage, not a Latina, but at times, she showed the Latin temperament. She was also of a more modern age, and from a society in which friends, if they could be found at all, were highly treasured in the aftermath of the almost total breakdown of her society following horrible atomic and biological warfare. When Finn loved, she was apt to express it. Once even emotionally harder than Marguerite in some ways, now that she was among a surrogate family and had been received in love by Challenger, she loved being able to express emotions when she felt like it. Fortunately, she was not hot tempered, but if she encountered enemies, she killed with little remorse or hesitation. Marguerite shuddered internally as she recalled some things that she had seen an angry Finn do. She was glad that they were friends. Better yet, Marguerite had always respected Challenger, and thought that he had made a wise decision in coming to love Finn. The two were an unlikely couple, the penniless Anglo-Brazilian orphan, once illiterate, and the prominent British scientist, but they were one of those odd couples that "clicked", in spite of a considerable age difference. Marguerite had thought about this, and decided that Challenger being in his 50's gave him a fatherly aspect that Finn had desperately needed, and her youth and open admiration had revitalized him...

"So," Finn was saying now, "the .275 will have a longer range before the bullet begins to drop much, but we probably won't need that on this trip. Marguerite can only see to shoot just so far with iron sights, anyway, and the more rapid reloading of the Lee might be useful."

"Just the point that I was making, Finn," said Roxton dryly.

"Since we captured some rifles in 7mm from the Burton slavers, we have plenty of 7mm ammo," she noted. "That's really the same as the British .275 Rigby, just not loaded with Rigby's patented bullets. But the military 7mm load will kill about anything we'll see. Johnny, how much .303 do we have left?"

"Enough. At least a few hundred rounds," reflected Roxton. "We captured some of that, too, and I have a military .303 and brought some softpoint hunting ammo for it, too, as well as what Marguerite brought."

"We certainly have more .303 or 7mm Mauser ammunition than I plan to carry at any one time," observed Marguerite saucily. "I want to defend myself, but I am not a Mexican revolutionary. I'm not about to walk around with bandoliers crossed on my chest like some lieutenant of Pancho Villa." She smiled at that image.

"Just as well, " noted her man, smiling now, too. "You do have certain items on your chest that I enjoy toying with and admiring, and I should hate for them to become bruised or abraded by bandoliers." He laughed.

Finn laughed, too. "Yeah, having boobs makes a difference. George and I have been thinking about becoming pregnant. But how will I wear my gun belt if I have a bun in the oven? Johnny, will you make me a shoulder holster, like you wear your Webleys in?

"Certainly, Finn, but are you serious? A pregnancy on this Plateau would be a serious matter. Why not wait until we can reach civilization?"

"Oh, bosh, John," retorted Marguerite. "The Zanga women and all of these other groups on the plateau reproduce all of the time, some far too often for my taste. Veronica and I can help Finn, and Xma'Klee (the Paramount Shaman of the Zanga) will send midwives when she needs them, if she gives birth." She gazed speculatively at Finn. Maybe she would be the first of the three Treehouse women to become pregnant. Given her lust for life and for sex with George, she would probably be pregnant now had Challenger not devised effective birth control pills. Not that I'm one to talk, she mused, remembering what she and Roxton had been doing until almost two AM that very morning. She blushed at the memory and decided to get back to choosing equipment.

"Should we take a machete, John? I'm not awfully well suited to swinging one, and we can usually find a trail without hacking it out of the bush."

"I don't want to build up any muscles by swinging a machete, either," admitted Finn. "George likes my arms nice and feminine, just as they are. But we can use a machete for stuff besides chopping a path in the jungle. It gives more reach than my knife if we have to pin down a snake and chop off its head, and it's a good jungle utility knife, too. I think I'll take a short one, anyway. It isn't too heavy, really, and it can be very useful."

"Good idea," agreed Roxton. "Finn, I always said that you were smart. I never believed those stories about your being a blonde brain. It's just Marguerite who says that." He winked.

"Very funny," muttered Marguerite. "John, I do wish that you'd join us." She looked wistfully at him, knowing that he was really needed here.

"Hey, Marguerite, no sweat. I'll show you how to use your hands to get off. We don't have vibrators yet, and they need batteries, anyway, but we girls don't need our men EVERY night." She grinned lewdly, and both of the Roxtons blushed.

"Ahem." Roxton cleared his throat dramatically. "As we were saying...take a machete with a 12-inch (30cm) blade, Finn. I'll feel better, knowing that you have it. And you have enough ammunition? Are you taking the Mannlicher on this trip, or the .44 Winchester?"

He knew that Finn often favored her M-92 Winchester carbine over her Austrian hunting rifle when no long range was likely to be involved. The American carbine held more cartridges, and it had ample power for men or for most Amazonian mammals at jungle ranges. Like her Smith & Wesson .38, these guns had come her way after they had killed the Burton gang. The .38 Special revolver had replaced her small crossbow for almost all needs, unless she knew that she might have to do silent killing, as she had with the Tecamaya sentries in Xochilenque. (See, "The Crystal Skull".) Even when she used the little crossbow these days, she always wore the Smith & Wesson, with which she had formed a close bond. It was on her night stand when she slept, too, on the side of the bed opposite Challenger's. His .45 resided near his own hand. This was not a place where one could always feel safe, even at home.

"The Winchester, I guess, " Finn decided. "I can carry more of the ammunition; it's lighter. And I doubt that I'll have to shoot anything unless we see a snake where we can't get around it. If we have to shoot a raptor or anything else big, Marguerite can do that. It'll give her something to do, so she doesn't get bored." She nudged Marguerite playfully in the ribs with her elbow.

Finally, all was in readiness. Apart from the guns and the medicine, they had packed enough food for two days. Nothing they had would last longer in the tropical climate, anyway. They would gather some fruit and a few other items that were edible if they had to, or shoot small game. Probably, they would return within two days, anyway. And Finn's pack held fishing line and lures. She could use the short Collins machete to chop a pole if they had to angle for food in a river.

The others saw them off, Veronica giving each a warm hug. "You get back here, fast. I'm going to be the only woman here now. These guys will have me waiting on them and listening to their cheesy jokes until their own women are back." She smiled, but she worried, too, for the jungle was always dangerous. Still, she liked the idea of her friends getting to know it better and becoming more at home there. Veronica had learned at an early age how to survive there, and it frightened her far less than it would most civilized people.

Good byes were said, with Challenger and Roxton being especially sentimental in wishing their women a fair trip. Finn noticed a tear in one of Challenger's eyes, and almost decided not to go, but she consoled herself by remembering that he had gotten by before she had come into his life, and she wanted an adventure. "Look after yourself, Genius," she said and held him tightly.

The Roxtons had a similar scene that was quite emotional for them, and Finn turned her head to spare them embarrassment as they clung to one another, kissing, whispering between themselves.

Finally, they were ready to leave, and walked out of the electrified fence, bound for who knew what. For fun, Finn hoped, and she walked with a light step.

They walked briskly into the forest, hearing the cries of birds and monkeys on every hand, and sometimes, the harsher roars of large theropod dinosaurs.

Marguerite shuddered after one particularly loud call came from nearby. "Remind me why we came on this trip," she muttered.

"To have a girls' day out adventure," retorted Finn. "And because if you had stayed at home, Vee would have handed you a broom and a dusting cloth and put you to work. Which is worse: housework or worrying about a T. rex eating us?' She grinned.

"Oh, housework, by far," Marguerite allowed. "Are we stopping for tea soon?"

Finn made a face, looking away so that Marguerite wouldn't see. She could be such a spoiled brat at times.

"Let's try to stay on the trail for a whole hour before we stop," she suggested. "We need to find somewhere to camp well before dark, and we can't use all of the tea before we even get to those ruins."

"Remind me never to come to a remote plateau devoid of most of the civilized amenities," the Briton asked. "I don't even have a bearer to carry this pack. If Roxton ever spirits me off to Africa, we will at least have safari boys to lug things. Of course, with my luck, lions would eat them all. Or, eat me. And remind me that I thought of this if John ever suggests a safari." (Eventually, the Roxtons did go on safaris. Please see, "On Safari" and the other stories set in Kenya in 1928-1929.)

"I can see how being eaten would spoil a trip," Finn admitted. "Hey, look, Marguerite! There's a tree with bananas. Let's shoot down a pod of them and have us some to snack on. They'll ripen pretty soon in this weather. Some look almost ripe now."

"It will probably ruin my girlish figure, but go ahead if it won't bring down that T. rex on us when he hears the shot."

Finn looked with a mix of scorn and pity at her friend. Finn lusted to learn about wild animals and how to live off of the land. Marguerite merely tolerated nature, and Finn was surprised that she had come on this journey. "Marguerite, that roar was their mating call. He's not hunting; he's looking for a mate. As long as we stay clear of them, dinosaurs in heat are more interested in each other than they are in finding us."

She raised her Winchester and fired at a pod of the fruit, dropping it at their feet. Macaws and toucans in the trees screeched their disapproval of this loud noise, and howler monkeys joined in the din.

"Quick, Marguerite, grab those bananas and let's get away from here before any predators come looking to see what these animals are raising Cain about." She gathered some, herself, watching carefully for any spiders or snakes that might have been in the large cluster.

"They have finished raising Cain," noted Marguerite as the din continued. "I daresay that they'll rouse Abel, too, at this rate. Here, take these. " She passed Finn some bananas.

" They should be pretty good. And they'll get some fat into our diet. We need some of that. Hey: do you know that Johnny says that in the Arctic, people can starve by eating just rabbits and those grouse they call ptarmigan? They don't have any fat to speak of, and our bodies need that."

Marguerite looked suspiciously at her friend. "Are you having me on?"

"No, this is the straight stuff," said an offended Finn. "Marguerite, I don't have to make up this survival information. The world really is stranger than you'd think."

"Hold up," said the brunette. "There's a boa constrictor lying in wait about 30 feet ahead, on that branch." She pointed to the offending limb.

"Thanks," said a grateful Finn. "That was a good call. We'll just swing wide of that tree, and pass by."

And so it went, with Finn teaching Marguerite what she could, with Marguerite griping good naturedly about the unfairness of life and the dangers of the Plateau. And sometimes, she talked about John Roxton. Finn smiled. It was becoming obvious that Marguerite was much in love and pretty happy for it.

They trekked on, Finn using an army lensatic compass borrowed from Roxton. She knew how to set a compass course, and showed Marguerite how, also.

In time, they did stop for tea. Marguerite claimed that she would die of exhaustion if they didn't. Finn knew that this was an exaggeration, but she was tired, too.

They gathered wood and set a small blaze on stony ground, where it couldn't start a forest fire. They hung the tea billy from sticks of green wood and boiled water, then added tea leaves. Each woman had her own cup, and they had sugar, obtained through trade with a white tribe near the Zanga.

As they drank and rested, Marguerite talked about the emeralds that she had heard were found in the stream near the ruins. "They are said to be splendid, items for which a queen would kill."

"I guess we know why you came on this trip, then," Finn quipped. But she smiled.

"Finnykins, I am NOT interested solely in jewels," rejoined Marguerite. "I was once obsessed with them, but I now have many and it is with largely intellectual interest that I pursue them. I want a few more, if they are exceptional, but I also want to study those ruins. Maybe they will give us a clue to getting off of this godforsaken Plateau. Even if not, the more I can learn, the better our chances of surviving here longer are enhanced."

Finn studied her friend. "Is it true that you're a reincarnated Druid priestess? Morrighan? What did you do for fun back then, when you first lived?"

"Finn, I don't know what I am. But I have extrasensory powers and I can speak most languages, even those that I've never studied. It's creepy. Maybe this Plateau has infused some of this Morrighan into me, and I seem to be regarded by the Druids whom we've met as being her. I think it's only a strong physical resemblance. I certainly don't feel immortal. Heavens, some mornings when I wake up, I marvel that I can even get out of bed early."

"Why would you want to, with John there?" Finn grinned impudently at her.

"Ah, good question, now that you mention it," Marguerite laughed back. "But we all must rise sometime, or Ned or Veronica will come calling with a list of things to do. Had we not gotten an early start today, we'd have been hoeing the garden by now or dusting shelves and tables."

"Marguerite, may I ask you some personal things? How many jewels did you steal? Was it pretty exciting? And tell me more about that sultan and what he made you girls do when you were a slave. (See, "A Prisoner of the Sultan," etc. on this board.) Does Johnny like the same stuff that he did? Can you give me any good ideas for new moves to try out on George? I want him to think that I'm the hottest babe he'll ever see, and enjoy whatever I think he might like. I want to spoil him so much that he'll never think of looking twice at any other chick."

Marguerite was tempted to tell Finn that some things were none of her business, but Finn was so innocent in some ways, if not at all in others, that she took pity on her. And she loved Challenger so completely that Marguerite was moved to describe some lovemaking techniques that she had been forced to learn to please her master in Arabia. And, truth be told, she found herself enjoying having a trusted friend to talk to, to share intimate details. Some of what she told Finn, she would not have told Veronica, who was more inhibited. But this was fun girl talk, and she felt a little wicked as she narrated how she could charm almost any man and make him plead for more. She admitted that Roxton had benefitted from her knowledge from that dark period of her life when she had served a demanding master who wanted pleasure from his girls, or else.

Finn listened raptly, chin on hand, staring into Marguerite's eyes with unbridled admiration and curiosity. Marguerite was touched, and she felt rather good about being able to share her tips with Finn. It was therapeutic to be able to talk about this situation, especially of matters that had once shamed her. These now thrilled another girl, who looked up to her.

She was telling Finn about harem discipline and what her fellow slaves were like when it struck her how very easy Finn was to talk to. And she could keep secrets! Marguerite knew that she had finally found a true friend, one whom she realized that she wanted to know for the rest of her life.

Her tea tasted even better with that thought, and they shared some honey cakes that Veronica had made.

In time, Finn shared some of her own secrets and the two women wound up hugging one another and crying a little as they comforted each other. This felt wonderful, and each sensed that a new phase of friendship had blossomed for them.

They realized that the sun was well over the midpoint of the sky, and decided to press on and find a good campground, with shelter and access to water.

As they packed again, Finn saw a rattlesnake nearby and killed it with an expertly thrown rock. She finished it off with a whack from her short machete and cleaned the blood off of the sturdy bush knife as Marguerite recoiled in horror from the remains of the snake.

"We could save the meat," Finn noted. "It'd be good tonight, for supper. We can wrap it on a stick and grill it." She hid a smile, knowing Marguerite's answer.

"Do we have any alternative," the brunette woman asked, "other than starvation? That's when I'd think seriously about eating a snake."

Finn admitted that even she had rather catch fish near the ruins, or use some dried meat that they had with them. "We can maybe kill an agouti or rabbits, too," she noted.

Walking wide of the still twitching snake, they resumed their journey. Within a few hours, they reached the top of a hill with a long slope down to the trail to the ruins. Finn slipped behind a tree stump blasted by lightning. She took out her Zeiss 8X30 binocular, one of her proudest possessions, and one that she often used for nature study as well as for hunting. Like many of her better things, it had been captured from Burton's slavers. (See, "A Night in the Lost World.")

Using the tall stump to break up her outline, Finn scanned the area below, noting an opossum some 75 yards away. She let it pass, not needing the meat urgently, and not wanting to fire a shot that might alert enemies to their presence.

Marguerite had started to stay in the forest, but grew lonely and crept over by Finn.

Finn turned her head and smiled, glad of the company. "Give me a few minutes," she said, and continued sweeping the ground below, looking for anything abnormal before they walked out into the open. She braced her elbows on her knees to steady the view, a trick that she had learned from John Roxton.

Finally, she gave the all clear, and they went quickly over the crest, lest anyone watching note their forms silhouetted against the sky. The long slope was carpeted with grass and with clumps of bamboo in marshy areas.

They reached the bottom of the hill and cast about for the game trail that Veronica had said was near there. Finding it, they pressed on, now longing to reach the ruins before dark.

Finn pointed to various tracks, and told Marguerite which animals had been there before they had.

At last, they made a sharp turn in the trail. Veronica had said that this was a landmark, letting them know that they were on the right path, and would soon see the ruins.

And they did, although they had to detour once to avoid a Bushmaster, coiled near the base of a tree on the right of the trail. They could have slain the venomous snake, but neither usually killed when they had no need, and the ground was open enough that they could bypass it. It made no effort to attack, despite the species' fierce reputation. Finn reminded Marguerite that the Bushmaster was the longest venomous snake in the Americas, and that although the drop-for-drop toxicity wasn't much worse than for the North American Copperhead, the venom glands held so much of this virulent poison that a bite was apt to inject massive quantities of the horrible substance. Few people survived its awesome strike. Some examples reached at least 14 feet!

"The scientific name for it is Lachesis muta," said Finn. "Wanta know why?"

Marguerite rolled her eyes. Learning about snakes was not high on her list of priorities.

"Why, pray tell?" she managed, pretending to care.

"Because Lachesis was the mythical Greek Fate who snipped the coils of life. And 'muta' just means that it's silent, that it doesn't rattle like some pit vipers. But it can vibrate its tail in leaves and make a scary sound."

"Finn, how do you remember all of this? I gather that this is some morsel of information that you've gleaned from George?"

"Sure. He teaches me a lot, and I love learning about animals. Once we get settled in England, we plan to go to Africa and to India, maybe back here, to hunt and to do scientific studies. I want to write about that, and I think I can make movies with wild animals in them. People would pay to see that stuff, and no one much has done any of it, in this time."

"But how can you remember icky facts about snakes?" Marguerite shivered.

"It's interesting, to me, anyway. And if George teaches me, I have a duty to him to remember. Marguerite, you can't imagine what it's like to be the woman of a genius like he is! I feel like I'm sleeping with the greatest scientist of all time. He's not just my man; he's an icon! And he's more to me than just my guy. He's also a teacher, mentor, friend, and shrink. Ned and Johnny are more like brothers, but George is so..." she wiped away a tear. "Oh, damn. We shouldn't have come. I miss him already, and I know that he's missing me, too."

Marguerite laid a hand on Finn's shoulder. "I miss John, too, but this is sort of fun, isn't it? Even I'm enjoying myself, despite my perennial griping. That's just me, you know. Let's find those ruins."

At last, they made a sharp turn in the trail. Veronica had said that this was a landmark, letting them know that they were on the right path, and would quickly see the ruins.

Soon, they came to an open glade, where they saw the first of the ruins. It had at one time been a temple or a palace, and stood almost 100 feet high and was over fifty yards wide, the main doors wide enough to admit several people at once. It was deep, running well back into the undergrowth.

The facade of the doors was carved with ceremonial figures, and Marguerite realized as they examined them that this was either Mayan or something very like it. Maybe the Tecamaya had passed this way before they had journeyed further over to the east where they now dwelt. (See, "The Crystal Skull".)

"Who's this weird guy, falling backward?" Finn wanted to know. She jabbed a thumb at a stone carving.

"That's Pacal, I'd bet," said Marguerite. "He was a great Mayan king! I KNEW this looked like their work. That same figure or one very like it is on the lid of his sarcophagus in Palenque."

They wandered further, finding a steep pyramid further back in the jungle, overgrown with vines and foliage. There was a whole city here at one time, and much of it had been preserved for them to find. Veronica knew little of the Maya or the Aztec, and her experiences with the Tecamaya on this Plateau wouldn't have encouraged her to study them more. She probably had no idea who had designed and built that narrow pyramid or how it had been used. Thus, all she had told them was that this was an impressive set of ruins.

The girls explored the area around the main building, and wandered down to the river about a hundred yards distant. Finding a place where it ran shallow, up to their thighs, even less deep in places, they resolved to pan for gold and hunt for emeralds.

"We have time before it gets too dark," observed Finn, looking at the lowering sun. It still stood high enough above the horizon that they could see well for another couple of hours, and they wanted treasure!

"The current looks slow enough here that it shouldn't be a threat," Marguerite pointed out. I'm going after emeralds! George taught me the basic technique, and I hope to find some!"

Then, a thought struck her as she watched Finn set her pack and rifle down and pull off her boots.

"I'm wearing a long skirt, and I'm not about to get it wet. Oh, why haven't I ever made myself a pair of shorts like you wear?"

Finn grinned. "Maybe because it would be too racy for someone raised like you were, in this time. I heard you tell Johnny and Ned that I have an exhibitionist streak in me. But this is a cool outfit, no pun intended, and it lets me wade when I take off my boots. You're going to have to get out of that skirt, and the blouse, too, Marguerite. If you roll up the sleeves, they'll just keep coming down, and getting wet and being a nuisance. Anyway, the water will sometimes reach high enough to get it wet, and you don't want that."

"So what the hell am I supposed to do?" wailed the dark- haired woman. "Perform a little jungle striptease, or forego looking for the emeralds? George said there really may be some here!" She looked as if she was about to start wringing her hands in anguish.

"Good grief, Marguerite! Just strip and leave your clothes beside our packs. I'm going to pan for gold along here, and I'll stay close enough to our stuff to run for my rifle if anything happens. Hell, I'll undress, too. I could use some sun on my body, and I'll just get my clothes wet if I leave them on. We didn't bring a change, and I don't want to sleep in wet clothes." She unbuckled her gun belt and put it beside their packs and rifles.

Marguerite shrugged. "Why not? We've seen each other in the altogether often enough, and the boys aren't going to see us. Not that they haven't a few times. I felt so exposed, on display, in Xochilenque. I'm glad that none of you teased Veronica and me for that. I'd have died of embarrassment." She passed her gun belt to Finn and unbuttoned her skirt.

"We did tease Vee, or Ned did." reminded Finn. "He insisted that she keep that little loincloth and told her how hot she looked in it. I think you know damned well how good you looked, or you'd never have kept the one they made you wear, too. It was just more fun to tease Vee about it. That's funny: she normally wears less than you do, but she was more embarrassed to wear that little outfit than you were. And you're less self conscious about those skimpy outfits we wear when we dance for the guys. Why? Do you just know how terrific you look, with that superb figure, knowing that we girls are jealous and that the men can't help but stare?"

"Veronica is more modest beyond a certain point, I suppose," mused Marguerite. "But do you mean that about being jealous? Of me? Finn, you're gorgeous, yourself! Don't try to fool me: I know quite well how you preen when male eyes are on you. You DO have a slightly exhibitionist streak in you." She laughed as she passed Finn her blouse.

Finn shrugged. "So? Okay, I love being female and showing it. But you're the best looking of us, Marguerite. Veronica is bustier than either of us, and I'm a little jealous of that. Maybe you are, too. I've seen you sneaking peeks at her when we're swimming or dancing and you grimace a little like you wish you had more there. I'm even a little smaller than you, topside. But overall, you have the best figure, and I think you move the best, especially when you want to impress the guys. Vee and I will never quite get some of those dance moves down as well as you have. Yeah, you're hot, Marguerite. John didn't fall for you just because you played hard-to-get and can be really funny when you aren't being a smartass."

Finn examined Marguerite with a critical eye, seeing her now in just a white push-up bra with some lace trim and brief bikini panties, made to match the bra. The panties had a rose appliqué sewn above her abdomen, and dainty lace trim on the leg openings. They were exquisite testimony to Marguerite's sewing skills, for she had made most of her own present lingerie, working to drawings made by Finn, with the designs reflecting styles of over a hundred years yet in the future.

"Get it off, Finn. I want to see how close our figures are. I'm not that much trimmer than you. You're just trying to flatter me."

Finn blushed slightly as she stripped, folding her clothes and Marguerite's by their gear. Her own panties and bra mirrored Marguerite's except that Finn's were black, to match her outer clothing.

"Stand next to me," said Finn. "See? You do have a little better 'bod'. Why would I try to flatter you? I already have all the gold and jewels that I can carry out of here when we leave. It's not like I'm going to try to get you to share your emeralds with me. If you even find any!" She laughed. "And I bet you don't! This trip will probably just have to be for fun. But I want to see if I can pan any gold. I've been practicing the technique. If it's here, I'll find some."

Marguerite was stumped. Why, indeed, would Finn flatter her, just to do that? Could she really mean what she said? She had Finn stand side on to her and critically assessed her. "You're not bad, Finn. Not too many lads would turn down a chance to have a go at you. George is a lucky man, to have you so obsessed with him." She smiled, and squeezed Finn's shoulder.

Finn grinned back. "I may be obsessed, Marguerite, but I'm in love so much that I can't help it, and I think I shook Mr. Great Scientist's composure, too. He never expected to care so much about a woman as he does me. But I guess that I love him more than he loves me. Usually, in a relationship, I think one partner loves, and the other IS loved. Or, relatively so. Does that make sense?"

"Yes, some, very often. But I think that George cares as much for you as you do for him. He's just afraid to show it more than he already does. He has it bad for you, Nicole. The two of you really do believe that stuff that you say about your love being the ultimate romance of all time, don't you? Well, maybe so. But Roxton and I are right on your heels. And if you're a penniless refugee orphan, I'm no better. The slave girl and jewel thief and fortune hunter and confidence game girl who's bilked men out of considerable sums. Not to mention that I was a double agent in the war. Lying to Germans who thought that I was their friend...and some of them were really quite decent chaps. They were just on the wrong side."

"But here we are, the slave and thief and the desperate refugee from the future, and what do we get? Two of the most desirable men on this Earth. Finn, we don't deserve those fellows." Marguerite felt her eyes watering and she wiped away tears. "They could have any number of women with bodies and faces every bit as good as ours, and maybe better. And better reputations, too! Why did they choose us? Is there no justice? Maybe it's all right for you and George, because you're basically a nice, deserving girl and you worship him. But I'm just..." She lifted her hands to her eyes and let the tears come.

Finn stepped over and embraced her. "Marguerite, if there is any real justice, I think we got those guys because no other women on the planet would truly love them as much as we do. So, maybe we ARE the best choices for them. I suspect that they know that, and they love us right back. If they wanted someone else, they would have had them. Johnny could have had his pick of half of the ladies in England, I bet. And I got George's head out of the lab better than anyone ever has. Maybe this actually is programmed in the stars. But I do think both of us are precisely the girls for these men. And you and I are both going to prove that, so quit bawling. Your past is in the past and the woman it made you is the one that Johnny fell for, so you must have something that he wants, right?" She held Marguerite, stroking her back, pulling her close, comforting her. She sensed that Marguerite had been feeling much guilt of late, having admitted her love for John on one hand, and confessed her early life on the other. She felt ashamed, and needed to learn that she was redeemed by her change, her love for Roxton, and her determination to serve him well and to set aside what she had been.

Finn explained this as best she could, and Marguerite finally nodded.

"You really think that I've been given a second chance, Nicole?" (Finn's full name was Nicole Elizabeth Finnegan, although she was usually known by her nickname of Finn.) She searched her friend's eyes, begging to be told that this was so, and that she could prove worthy of John Roxton.

"Yes, Marguerite, I believe exactly that. So have I. I've done some rough things too, because I had to. But now, we are going to be fine, and we are going to make those men proud of us. Let's make each other proud of us, too. I want you for my friend, for always. Will you be my pal? We both need one another, I think. George is great, but sometimes, I need a woman to talk to. Veronica has really been there for me, but she isn't truly like us. She is more innocent, in some ways. Do you know what I mean?"

"Umhmmm," Marguerite managed. "And I'll be pleased to be your friend, Finn. Just remember who I am and that I have a smartarse tongue in my mouth and try to put up with me when I speak before I think. And thanks for saying what you did about my looks. Few women openly compliment others. I feel very privileged to have heard you say that."

"Oh, I was sincere, Marguerite. You're a major fox, lady. When we get to London and go to parties, I'm going to stand by you so that all the men will look at me." She broke out laughing. "Hey! We'd better get busy or we sure aren't going to find any treasure. And I'm getting hungry; I want to make dinner before the sun sets. Shall we?" She gestured at the river.

Marguerite wiped her eyes, and then she laughed, too. "Please do stand by me at parties, and the men will look at us because you're blonde. That's one thing that I can't boast. And I'm jealous of you and Veronica for it. So, we're at least even."

She picked up her small pan and waded out into the river.

"Eeek!" she squealed. "Finn, this water is cold! It must run down from the mountains."

"Great," Finn answered. "Maybe it'll have trout in it. I want to catch some of those. George would be so surprised! Especially since Brazil doesn't have any trout, huh?" She laughed.

CHAPTER TWO

As the women worked, one swirling water in a pan to check for specks of gold, the other digging in the mud and sand in the shallow river's bottom, a man emerged from the shadows of the jungle above and behind them.

He was an Indian, and he carried a long blowgun and poison darts as well as a machete stolen from a Brazilian trader whose shrunken head now graced the wall of this warrior's hut. His headband and facial paint showed that he was dressed for war, and he had shaggy decorations strapped to his knees. He wore sandals that let him move silently forward, taking cover behind a giant tree barely 50 yards from the girl with the golden hair.

He studied her and looked closely as the dark-haired one came over to show the golden one something. They squealed, and giggled, and the tinkle of their laughter was music in his ears.

The Indian felt his manhood stir and he knew that he wanted these women. Perhaps his chief would allow using them before their heads were removed to decorate the war hut, the Long Room. Maybe they might even be allowed to live, to serve the Men. Their own women would be unhappy with this and would express it, and the chief would know this. But perhaps if these girls were made subject to the women, too, they would be allowed to live. They could pay for their lives by entertaining the men and by doing the less pleasant work that their women despised. Thus would they satisfy all the inhabitants of the village. The warrior would speak of this to his fellows, and perhaps this could be so. But if it was decreed that the girls must die, he would insist on taking the head of the golden one. Her shrunken trophy head would be a great source of pride, with her yellow hair so distinctive. All of his fellow warriors would marvel as they visited. Some would come for miles, to see the head of this golden female. Either way, he would win a great prize this night. He had seen her first, and he would claim her by right of first sight, and by leading the others to prizes that would otherwise have been missed!

His gaze dropped to their clothing. They were wearing little, and he could tell his companions how lovely they were, with no need to guess. But there were long items by their packs that he suspected were the fire- sticks of which he had heard. Care would be needed as they came for these women. They must be surprised...

He looked carefully around again, for men. What sort of men would let women like these wander off on their own? Strange. But there were no men!

The Xingu scout waited until the women waded out into the water again and then slipped silently away. He would have better news than expected, when he found his fellow braves.

XXX

After a little over an hour of panning for gold had passed, the girls met and compared their finds. Finn had enough gold to melt it and shape an ornament for a necklace, and she was very pleased. Marguerite had found two nice emeralds, and was very excited.

They washed off the sand and mud and stripped, putting their undies out to dry on a nearby bush, where the warmth of the day and a slight breeze would have them ready to wear before too long.

They spread a towel and sat on it, on a wide rock at the water's edge. They were almost shoulder-to-shoulder, and felt close in mind and body. Marguerite rejoiced that she could finally be so close to someone else, especially of her own sex. She knew that Finn shared her joy in finding a deeper friendship than either had thought to have, and they talked about the gold and jewels and their men and how they wished that Veronica could have joined them.

The breeze caressed their skin, a gentle wafting of air and the rays of the sun making this a luxurious experience.

They watched the water, but it was so clear that a snake or crocodile would be easily seen, and the water here was too shallow for prehistoric monsters.

Marguerite turned her back to Finn, and the blonde girl used their second towel to dry Marguerite's hair. Marguerite remembered a recent day in the Treehouse, when John Roxton had dried her hair as she came fresh from the shower (See, "Sultry") and she glowed as she fantasized about where THAT had led!

Then, they switched off, and she dried Finn's shorter hair. Marguerite was surprised that she felt pleasure in doing something for a friend. I have been so awfully alone for all these years, she mused, and was glad to know true friendship at last. It felt new and wonderful.

They sat cross-legged now, facing one another, each having a view of the other for which men would have paid. The brunette put on her hat briefly, and they laughed at how erotic this made her look. Their talk soon wandered into discussion of their men and what each liked in bed.

Marguerite laughed. It struck her that until now, she would never have dreamed of discussing such intimate details with a female friend. She had done it a few times with other girls in discussions about men, but in a more abstract, general sense. Now, she was admitting that someone whom they both knew had done certain things to her and that she had loved it! That was new. It even excited and pleased her to share this knowledge with Finn.

They shared other intimacies, Finn mentally filing some new tricks to try on Challenger when they returned to the Treehouse.. She admitted that she missed Challenger so much that she ached.

Marguerite nodded. "I know exactly how you feel, but I also love just being alone here, the two of us, sharing things that I never expected to discuss with another woman, one whom I could call a very close friend. Finn, thank you for being you, and for forgiving me my trespasses of the past. I was wrong to have called you Challenger's post adolescent blonde bimbo. (See, "Challenger's Birthday.") You are so much more than a plaything for that great man. I'm sorry that I took so long to realize just how much there is to you. Of course, the realization has been gradual. Even when I said that, I knew you well enough to know that you were far more than I implied. I am so sorry, and so glad that we have become friends." She looked shyly down, and Finn reached over and squeezed her hand.

"It's forgiven, Marguerite. Thank you for saying that, though. I wouldn't miss this, but I just feel incomplete without George."

"That's all right," Marguerite teased. "You can butter MY bread tonight. Or, could, if we had any butter." Butter was too perishable an item to carry on trips away from home, and it was several years before they had managed to make any, using goats' milk. Challenger's refrigerator made it easy to keep perishables in the Treehouse, but a tropical climate was not kind to butter, chocolate, or other pleasant food items when on the trail. Finn longed for the freeze-dried trail meals that she had occasionally eaten when in her own century. Just add water and you could cook a great meal, under the circumstances. She told Marguerite, who asked if this was true, or a tall tale. Finn insisted that it was true, and the brunette woman sighed.

"I wish that I could live in your day, before the devastation. Just think of what two girls like us could have gotten up to!" She laughed, a litle ruefully.

In time, they gathered their things and put on the change of underwear that each had brought, and went up to the ruins.

They set their things just inside the wide door of the first building that they had seen, and gathered firewood from the immediate area. Marguerite wore her hat again, and Finn grinned at the way she looked. She wished that Roxton could have seen her that way. Of course, he probably had...And they had their boots on now. It wouldn't do to step on anything sharp, or to feel the sting of one of the virulent tropical scorpions that they knew were on the Plateau.

Finn noted that Marguerite's fresh bra and panties were a wonderful deep green, what the older woman told her was dark jade. "George made up a special batch of the dye for me," Marguerite explained. "I think I'll make some more items in this color. Want some? I'll sew them for you, if you'll draw just what you want. I'm going to make some in mint green, too, and what I'll call burnt tangerine. Or, maybe bronze tangerine. I think that Veronica will like the orange-y ones."

Finn nodded. "Thanks, Marguerite. I'd love that, and I know that George will like the view. He'll whip up a new batch of dye for you in no time with an incentive like that. He loves watching me walking around in just my undies when we have the place to ourselves. Hey: get those two thick sticks over there. They'll burn long enough to cook dinner, with this smaller stuff."

They built the fire inside an alcove within the temple, or whatever it had been, to conceal the light from prying eyes. The smoke drifted up through a hole in the roof, dispersed in the branches of an overhanging tree. They were probably safe from intruders here, but neither wanted to be more concerned about that than they must.

In the small flames of the fire, they lit a torch and explored their domain. They discovered a flight of stairs that led to the roof, and several more alcoves. The floor was stone, worn smooth with the passage of many feet, over who knew how many years. It felt cool to the touch, and they knew that they would need their blankets if the night grew cold. Clouds loomed now, pregnant with the threat of rain, which would chill the air. Already, thunder mumbled in the distance, and Finn shivered as she anticipated what was to come.

They returned to the fire, confident now that nothing lurked in the shadows beyond its light. Finn had carried her Winchester at the ready as Marguerite had hefted the torch. She was glad that they had not needed to fire a shot, the sound of which would have been enormous in this enclosed space. Their ears would have rung for hours, if not for days.

They got out their small pot and added water, with dried meat. They put in sliced potatoes and some carrots and brought the improvised stew to a boil, until the vegetables were done.

Later, they would clean the pot with sand and boil water from the small river in it, to purify it. Then, they would pour the water from the pot into the tea billy, back-and-forth, to aerate the water, avoiding the flat taste that boiled water otherwise had. Then, they would fill their canteens.

Now, they made tea and enjoyed their meal, with some homemade whole wheat bread that they had brought, and rejoiced in the tranquility of the tropical evening.

The lurking storm was yet some distance away, and its fury was now just a cooling influence on the heat of the earth. The thick stone walls of the temple had kept the interior cool even in the heat of the day, and they felt good, physically and emotionally.

They ate, talked, and occasionally, animals near enough could hear peals of feminine laughter as one or the other said something particularly funny.

After, they cleaned up, filled their canteens as described, and dressed. Marguerite left off her skirt, and they left their boots off. They gathered more wood, in case they wanted warmth and light, and eventually, they lay beside one another and talked more, each knowing comfort in their deepened friendship. This had been gradually building since their time in a slave cell over a year ago, courtesy of the late Avery Burton. (See, "A Night in the Lost World.") Marguerite had been more touched than she had wished to admit at Finn's efforts to distract Burton from her, for he hated her. Thus, he was determined to humiliate her more than the other girls who wore his chains, and had Finn not distracted him with her feigned admiring submission, he would undoubtedly have punished her more than he had. Marguerite was unused to such sacrifice on the part of a friend, and she had liked Finn ever since. Now, she knew just how close they could be, and it filled her with welcome new warmth.

There was a faint rustle in the shadows, and Finn lifted her flashlight. Challenger had devised a means to recharge their batteries, but it worked imperfectly, and they had little life in them. The flashlight could be used only for brief emergencies. Now, it showed a huge tarantula near their wood supply.

They yelped, and Finn reached for her machete. Marguerite smashed a boot down onto the loathsome creature and Finn chopped it in half. The halves wriggled, reaching out with the fangs in the head visible in the faint light. Finn turned the machete and brought the back of the blade down again and again, smashing the twisting bits of arachnid. They scraped up the remains with a big leaf that had served as a plate and burned them, leaf and all. Finn cleaned off her machete with water from the river and a gentle scouring of dry grass, so as not to scratch the blade. She delighted in caring for her weapons and other gear, having at times past dreamed of actually owning such items.

When the errant tarantula was long past being a threat, they shuddered together, wishing that their men had been there to deal with such matters. "Roxton had better not have things like that at Avebury, or we are going to be spending a lot of time in hotels," declared Marguerite.

Finn laughed. "You know he'll take care of you," she answered, and they settled down again, hoping for a peaceful night even as the storm approached. Finn laughed. "Hey, if there are tarantulas in England, do they drink tea?"

Soon, they moved further back from a window as rain lashed the structure and lightning slammed into a nearby tree, which split with a frightening crack. A heavy limb tumbled down into the forest, and the women huddled under a blanket as the fury of the night intimidated them as such things had done when they were little girls. Neither had had anyone to turn to then, and that had made the terror of the elements worse. Now, they had one another, and each sensed what the other felt in that way. They held hands and said brave things until the force of the storm had passed, the torrential downpour now just a steady rain.

CHAPTER THREE

Not far away, a dozen Xingu warriors huddled beneath their capes, miserable as the forces of nature pummeled them. They, too, shuddered as the storm spent itself in the skies above them.

Finally, when the worst was over, they came out from such shelters as they had found and made plans to capture the two exotic beauties that their scout had described.

It took some time to sort out the path in the debris that the storm had left, and one asked if the women might have left long since. The scout said that they probably had not, unless they lived nearby. He pointed out that they had likely sought shelter in the ruins. They had no idea which people had left those ruins, this being their first foray onto the Plateau via this route. But the scout had told them that this was an imposing place, made by a race now probably long gone.

Finally, they approached the ruins and divided, six men to a team They would soon light torches and rush the interior of the first temple, the one most likely to have been chosen by the strange females. With any luck, they would have these girls bound and begging for mercy long before the remainder of their over-three hundred man force arrived. Their brothers would be impressed, if these girls were even nearly as lovely as they had been described. Their leader's brother was the chief of this advance group and he promised to intercede with his relative and prevail on him to let them use the women until they decided whether to keep them in thrall or to behead them. If they were to be beheaded, the chief of this group wanted to do it in their home village, with suitable ceremony. They hoped to take other captives on the Plateau, coming as they had before, to seize women and to take men's heads. The Zanga knew too well their depredations. They had usually kept the prettier Zanga girls they captured, and there should be no difference between them and enslaving the white girls. Their heads would grace the walls of their huts, but their living, serving bodies would grace their homes even more. They could always be killed and their heads shrunken when they grew old.

They moved forward, trying to walk as quietly as they could as the ruins grew near. They smeared pitch from a clay jar onto the heads of their torches and prepared to light them.

XXX

In the ancient temple, Marguerite stirred. She wondered what had waked her; for the night was still, save for the usual murmur of insects and frogs in the trees beyond their portal. Still, something had made her rise and listen. She heard nothing special, except noting that the rain had stopped. Yet...

She reached over and nudged Finn, sleeping next to her. "Finn, wake up, damn it! Something is very wrong!"

Finn muttered that she had slept for barely an hour and demanded to know what the matter was.

"I don't know, but I know not to ignore this feeling when I've had it. Quick, put on your boots and get your things. Let's go up those stairs onto the roof. I think someone or something is about to give us some serious grief." She reached for her boots, tugging them on with such urgency that Finn shook off sleep and reached for her own boots

The girls reached the roof and lay flat on its surface, listening. Marguerite contorted to put on her skirt, and both managed to don their gun belts and adjust them so that the holsters (and Finn's knife) lay comfortably as they should. Finn thrust her sheathed machete into the loops sewn onto the pack for it.

They heard rustling in the darkness below, and they somehow knew that this was human, not the movements of animals.

Finn turned over her pack quietly, reached inside, and produced a ball-like object. In the shadows, Marguerite couldn't see the handle on it, or the ring that would be pulled to let the handle fly off and arm this monstrous device.

"What's that thing?" she whispered furiously. "Finn, I think these are people, and I don't think they're going to be friendly."

"Grenade," Finn whispered back. "One of those we took from Burton. Johnny showed me how to use it. I was going to throw one in the river to kill fish if we needed food that badly. If those creeps rush our room, I'm going to drop this down that crack in the roof and let them have a warm welcome."

Marguerite wondered if they shouldn't just lie still, and hope not to be discovered.

"No," said Finn. "Not only will they find the stairs and see our footprints in the dust; they'll find my bra that was still drying. They'll search all over for us, and we need to kill as many as we can at the outset. Then, let's scramble! We can get away on that overhanging limb if the others are distracted by what happens in the temple." She pointed to a huge limb that had grown over the edge of the temple wall.

Marguerite nodded, and prepared to put on her pack and run.

Torches were lit now, and several men rushed into the temple doorway, screaming war cries intended to petrify the women whom they thought were within. Marguerite peeked over the ledge on the roof and recognized the enemy in the torchlight. "Xingu headhunters!" she hissed at Finn.

That was all that Finn needed to hear. She immediately pulled the ring on the grenade, let the handle flip off, and held it for one second, then dropped it down into the temple. She could see that the leading elements of the attackers were already at the stairs.

The grenade landed in front of one man. It bounced on the stone floor, and he bent to pick it up. It didn't look to be fruit or anything else that might fall naturally. In fact. it looked metal, with odd segments in the surface...

Another man called that he could see footprints in the dust on the stairs, and all rushed over. At that point, the grenade went off with a loud WHUMP! and the women above were startled by the force of the concussion. One or two bits of shrapnel flew out the roof, but none touched Finn or Marguerite.

Below, the story was different. All was still for a few seconds, then they heard a man crying in mortal pain. Others groaned mightily. Finn eased over and looked down a fissure in the roof. She saw five men down, three not moving. The other two were badly wounded, and would be no further threat. One clutched his stomach, and his legs were bleeding badly, too. At least two more men cowered in the corners, stunned by what had happened.

"Go for the limb, but be quiet," she whispered. Both women went into the tree as other Xingu rushed in to see what had happened.

CHAPTER FOUR

Back in the Treehouse, Roxton had showered after the day's labor and dressed for dinner. They were seated at the table as evening fell, and Veronica was making the rounds with a bowl of rice. She placed scoops on the men's' plates, and they thanked her. Challenger passed around a carafe of iced tea and one of water.

"I must say that you look lovely, my dear, "Challenger said to Veronica. "You are certainly the prettiest hostess on the plateau tonight." He smiled at the Layton lass.

"Oh, thanks, George," she replied, smiling back. "I think I won that hostess contest handily. It's not like you guys had a wide choice in hotels. At least, there's room at the inn, here."

"Inn?" mumbled Ned through a mouthful of tapir meat. "I thought this was a long-term residence."

She set down the bowl of rice and hugged him. "For you, Neddy, it's home. And you get special privileges with the hostess." She kissed the blushing Malone and laughed, the sound of her voice music in the men's ears.

"I'm glad to see you boys laugh," noted Veronica. "You two seemed glum. Missing the girls?"

"Yes, I feel incomplete without Marguerite," admitted John Roxton. "I know that she wants to have this little adventure, and I basically trust Finn to look after her, but I can't help but feel uneasy."

Challenger nodded. "I shall have to butter my own bread tonight." He chuckled at his pampering by Finn. "But they deserve some time to themselves. And if they aren't back early tomorrow, John and I are going fishing. We men need time to ourselves, too."

Veronica looked shrewdly at him. "You and John are great friends," she observed, "but you also like fishing with your fiancée. Sure that you don't really wish that Finn was here to share in your angling adventures?" She smiled sympathetically, knowing the answer. The Challengers were a close couple, and George managed to look half lost in the absence of his mate.

"Certainly, I will be glad to have her back. Uh, John, perhaps we should plan to fish in the direction that they went. Perhaps we shall see the girls on their way home."

Veronica seated herself and pulled her chair up to the table. She leaned over and kissed Ned. "I think we should go off on our own for a day or so, Ned. When the others return, I mean. Would you like that? I'm sure that we can find plenty to do."

"Baby, you're all that I want to 'do'" Ned blurted, then was embarrassed at his boldness.

Veronica blushed, too, and promised that she would give him all of her that he could stand. "But I want to have a romantic picnic, too, and watch the butterflies. They'll migrate through here, soon. And there are some really lovely flowers that I want to pick to decorate the Treehouse table. And you can fish while I watch and we talk. If you don't catch anything, I'll run and let you catch me. What happens then is up to you, Mighty Reporter!" She flushed even more but was pleased to see the look on Ned Malone's face.

"Ahem," said Challenger. "Veronica, you have done a splendid job with this brown gravy. It goes so well with both the meat and the rice."

Roxton smiled. He hoped that the Malones caught both fish and one another. They were nice people. But he longed to see Marguerite soon, too. He just wasn't the same without her. Challenger was right: they should fish along the river that led to the ruins. And if they didn't see the women soon, he was going to go look for them. Marguerite might think him weak not to have been able to go without seeing her for more than a day, but she would also be pleased to know that he pined for her that much. He wanted her in his arms. I have fallen totally in love, he admitted to himself. That woman means the world to me, and she seems to have decided to like that...

"John, what are you smiling about?" asked Ned. "You seem to be elsewhere."

"I am," confessed Roxton. "Somewhere in a certain set of ancient ruins, with a female explorer who has been on my mind a lot for these past few years."

Veronica couldn't resist needling him. "You and Finn like to hunt together and you both enjoy playing with guns, but I didn't know that she mattered that much to you, 'Johnny'", she razzed.

Everyone laughed, and Veronica apologized. "I know how much Marguerite means to you, John. I shouldn't tease you. Don't worry: the girls will be all right. What can happen to them? They're smart, they're armed, and they really aren't that far from home. She'll be back in your arms and in your bed in a day or so. And probably, very glad to see you, too." She reached over the table and squeezed his arm encouragingly.

"Sweetheart, may I have more spinach?" asked Ned, and Veronica rose to attend her man's needs. I'll go to the kitchen for him but I'm not going to butter his bread, she thought. Unless maybe he starts looking at me like George does at Finn when she does that. I don't know if I could withstand that. That look is pure love and he means it when he puts her on that pedestal in their room. That pair are a two-way adoration society! I feel for both of them tonight. I wonder if she misses him as much as he clearly does her. Of course, she does! I bet she runs and jumps into his arms when they see each other again, like she did when they were rescued from Burton's men. That was so sweet...Hmmm. Ned needs coffee, too, I bet. "Honey! Coffee, too?"

CHAPTER FIVE

Marguerite got safely out into the tree and helped Finn as she, too, inched her way along the thick branch that lay atop the roof. The girls had barely gotten out of sight in the tree when they heard more Xingu passing directly beneath. One looked up, but saw nothing in the dark. The tree had heavy foliage, and the leaves obscured them for now. But they would soon discover the limb on the roof and probably guess what had happened. The women needed to put some distance between themselves and their pursuers.

Marguerite made it into an adjoining tree, but her skirt kept catching on sharp projections and small branches. She took it off, helped by Finn, and put it into her already stuffed pack. Now, she would have to be careful not to scratch her legs, but she could at least move better. Finn's legs were already bare in her shorts, and she was also conscious of the need to be careful. Their packs were the bulkiest items they carried, and might easily snag on a branch if they didn't use extreme care! They slung their rifles across their fronts, the packs covering their backs.

They eased their way to the ground on the far side of the second tree, and stepping carefully on fallen, wet leaves, made their way into the jungle. Their boots left few prints, because of the heavy, tough leaves.

The wounded Xingu warriors were wailing loudly, and then the girls heard shouts. Someone had gone up the stairs and onto the roof. It wouldn't be long before they had put two and two together and realized where their quarry had gone.

Inside the ruined temple, the Xingu leader questioned what had happened, and whether any girls were ever here. Maybe this was witchcraft that had drawn them here and caused that terrible explosion. His medicine man was treating the injured, but told him that one would not live. The other would need constant care until he was taken home, then, if he did not die of infection, he would live. The shaman was going to treat his wounds with a paste made of various plants that would kill infection, if they were lucky. He had already used his knife to dig out two pieces of jagged metal that had penetrated the flesh of the injured man, and was afraid that there were more, buried deep within his left leg. Those would have to remain in him, but they knew that sometimes, arrow points or bits of the flint or obsidian heads would work their way to the surface, sometimes after years had passed, and could be extracted. For now, he was mainly trying to stop the bleeding and treat the injured for shock..

The chief nodded, and bade him do his best. Another man pointed out the remains of the girls' fire and scuff marks on the dusty floor, where they had cleared a place to sleep. Another found Finn's spare black bra, and brought it over.

The scout who had seen them earlier exclaimed that this was the upper garment of the blonde woman whom they sought. So the chief knew that they were seeking women, not demons.

He ordered five men to remain with the injured and to take the wounded man home. The dead would have to be abandoned, buried where they had fallen, just beyond this ancient temple. Tomorrow, they would hold a brief service for them in their heathen religion and a more formal service for fallen warriors when they returned to their village.

A man on the roof came running down. "I have seen faint marks on that big branch over the roof!" he declared. "The white females have gone into that tree!"

Immediately, men with bright torches surrounded the tree and called on the girls to surrender. "Come down peacefully, and you will serve us as slaves. If you make us come up after you, we may take your heads this very night!

Cowering in the darkness barely a hundred yards away, Finn and Marguerite heard him, and Marguerite, the mistress of nearly all languages, whispered a translation to Finn.

"So, the bastards think that we're still in the tree," Finn replied. "Let's be really quiet, but we need to get as far away as we can before they realize their mistake."

Marguerite nodded, and they slipped away into the gloom of the nocturnal forest, shying away from a tree where they had seen movement that they knew was a snake. The barba amarilla (yellow beard, for its yellowish throat) was fond of waiting thus on trails, ready to strike at an unwary passing rodent. Sometimes, even the mighty Bushmaster would lie in wait under an old tree, and woe betide any who passed!

Behind them, more torches were lit, and the chief ordered more to be cut from what relatively dry wood could be found. (The firewood sticks the girls had left in the temple were mostly too short for long-burning torches.) His men did not relish the darkness, and there were murmurs that these women were witches. Something had caused that grim explosion that had so injured their number. It was surely not a natural thing...

The night was miserable for both the girls and their pursuers. It rained again, and Finn and Marguerite huddled under a blanket, partially hidden beneath a huge tree that had fallen. They kept their rifles under the blanket, although the barrel of Marguerite's .303 was too long and stuck out. She kept the muzzle inclined down, so that rain didn't enter the barrel.

When the storm ended, they made their way forward, drying off their weapons and themselves with one of their towels. Finn was glad that they had packed those before the Xingu came. She would miss the bra that they had had to leave. She had only three good ones. Maybe Marguerite or Veronica would make her a new one...

Toward dawn, a Xingu screamed, and Marguerite could hear others saying that he had been bitten by a snake. The girls were sad until they recalled that this was one less enemy to deal with.

The Xingu lost the trail several times, but when the sun came, they fanned out and eventually located it. With a whoop, they were again in pursuit. But the white women had gained nearly a mile in the meantime.

CVHAPTER SIX

Around ten AM, a Xingu scout went up a tree and saw the fleeing women in a clearing ahead. He shouted and pointed. He then aimed his remarks at the women, who could just hear him.

"What's that jerk saying?" asked Finn. Marguerite, the linguist, translated part of it.

"So, the creep is just telling us in graphic detail what he wants to do to us when they catch us?"

"Basically, yes," answered the brunette Briton. "He does have a good imagination, doesn't he? Not that most men haven't probably thought of doing that to us if they could. Most are just too decent to try, without some courtship first." She laughed at her slim joke.

Finn stood atop a big rock, cupped her hands and called back to the Indian. She suggested that he perform an anatomical impossibility upon himself, although the act was basically what he wanted to do to her. "! Filho da puta!" she screamed, angry.

Marguerite blanched, and then laughed. The Xingu were less amused.

"What does the yellow-haired bitch say to me?" asked the man in the tree of his companions below. One who spoke some Portuguese replied, "She has called you the son of a whore. And she says for you to copulate with yourself. When we catch them, maybe the chief will let you have her first, to atone for her insult."

Another had heard the exchange, including the language that Finn had used. She had called out in Portuguese, knowing that they certainly would speak no English. "Brasileira," he mused. "These girls are Brazilians, not witches. I told you they were not enchanted. Let us get them, quickly. I want to have them before supper. I wish to feel the dark one squirm beneath me as I take her. You can have the yellow-hair first."

Finn stepped down from the rock, and Marguerite said, "Well, that was certainly colorful. Now, they'll be even madder at us when we're caught."

"We're not going to be caught," declared Finn. "I promised Johnny that I'd take care of you, and I will. And I am going to kill that man in the tree. He spoke of us in a way that is not acceptable. I will slay him, for our honor." She had switched to English, but it was accented as she still thought in her other tongue.

"Finn, calm down." Marguerite knew that Finn was of Anglo ancestry, but she was Brazilian, too, by birth, and she had the national heritage. Usually, she was almost American, like her accent when speaking English. But she spoke her other language as well, and when she did, she sometimes had the Latin temperament and sense of honor if insulted. It worried Marguerite a little, for Finn would need to learn more self restraint if someone insulted her in Britain. The law there was less tolerant of honor killings! Of course, they might never get off of this Plateau, in which case it was a moot point.

The girls ran into the jungle, and then swerved to lead the enemy off their trail, walking on rocky ground where they found any. They hoped that the Indian in the tree couldn't still see them.

After a short run, they were again out of sight in the jungle. Finn paused suddenly, pulling at Marguerite's sleeve to stop her.

"Put your skirt back on, Marguerite. Your legs will be more protected in this brush. I'll just have to be careful. And while you dress, I'm going to rig a little surprise for our charming pursuers." She drew the Bowie knife that Roxton had made for her the previous Christmas and cut a length of tough vine. She had seen what else she needed, and she hurried with her task.

The women soon moved on, and tried again to put as much distance as they could between them and the leading headhunters. They truly feared for their lives, for they had killed several of these men, and Finn had shouted things that their egos would not tolerate well.

Marguerite wondered whether they would be allowed to surrender, if they were trapped. She would grudgingly give herself up, if she saw no option. If kept as a slave, she might eventually be rescued, or escape. She had done so before several times in her life, and it was preferable to being beheaded. She wondered if they would accept her surrender while Finn fled. But if she was trapped, so would Finn be.

Finn had little more endurance than she did, and both women were tiring rapidly. The men after them simply were stronger and tougher than a woman, and given time, they would definitely catch their prey.

Finn, startled, sensed what was in Marguerite's mind. "Are you thinking of giving up? I bet they'd just kill us, and Johnny and George wouldn't know where they'd taken us, even if they did capture us. So, we might never get rescued. Besides, there must be two or three hundred of these creeps by now! What chance would our men have to save us!? We'd be taken off of the Plateau and be slaves forever. Or, worse!"

"Oh, Lord Roxton is ingenious. There might be a way," Marguerite replied. "Look, there are some rocks ahead. I'm about all in, and so are you, Finnykins.. I have to rest and take a drink. Lets' hide there and shoot it out if they find us. Are we close enough to the Treehouse for our shots to be heard? The men would know after the first few shots that we weren't shooting a deer or a raptor, and they'd come."

"I doubt the sound would carry that far," Finn said. "But we do have to rest. Look, you have a rifle with longer range than I do. I should have brought my Mannlicher. Can you hit those guys as they come out of the woods, if we're in those rocks? The open ground between the jungle and the rocks will give us a killing ground as they come. If they get within 200 yards, I can hit them pretty well, if they'll hold still long enough."

"I think I can hit them to at least 250 yards if they're in the open," Marguerite estimated. She and Finn helped one another stagger into cover, where they hid in the boulders and pulled some brush over the space between some rocks, to hide them.

They sighed and Finn drank, and passed Marguerite her canteen. Marguerite swallowed several gulps of water, her own canteen being nearly dry.

She poured a small amount of water into one palm and washed her face and neck.

They heard a yelp from the spot where Marguerite had paused to don her skirt as Finn had rigged a trap.

The leading Xingu man had cast about for their trail and shouted as he noticed a small broken twig and some flattening of the grass where the women had passed. "Hau! I have their trail!" he called, and his fellows rushed to join him.

But he had gone for only a few yards when he snagged his foot on a vine lying across the path. He jerked angrily at the vine, only to see a small sapling that had been bent back under great tension snap forward. One of its branches had been cut off and the stub sharpened with Finn's knife. This left a dangerous point some eight inches long. This point was now buried in the Xingu warrior's chest, and he was coughing dark arterial blood.

His companions laid him out and watched him die. They swore vengeance, and were soon off on the trail, but moving more cautiously now.

"I still say that these females are demons," muttered one. "Who ever heard of a woman making a trap like this? This was worthy of a clever warrior!" He looked uneasily ahead, wondering whether any more such devices lay in front of them. But they pushed on, eager to have the women in their grasp. Their chief wondered whether his men would rather take the female heads or enjoy the girls otherwise. Maybe they would take them alive, use them, and then torture them almost to death before cutting off their heads. That would please those who had lost relatives to them.

But torture, if done right, would take hours, and he wanted to raid Zanga villages for more women and to take Zanga heads. Better to capture the white women and decide later how to deal with them. And if they kept the pale girls, it was true that they would have much prestige among other villages of their tribe. The golden-haired one would be a real prize. Most Brazilian girls had dark hair. Finn's blondeness was comparatively rare in her nation. The savages in this remote region had seldom seen such women, and regarded them as exotic.

He cautioned his men to move carefully, for the scout who had first seen the women had said that they had the dreaded thunder-sticks of the white race. If they did, they would soon tire and use the guns on his men.

CHAPTER SEVEN

"Marguerite, we have to make a stand here, at least for a while. I can't keep going." Finn was exhausted and she knew that if she was to have the energy to hold a rifle well and to shoot straight, she couldn't be winded from another chase.

Marguerite nodded. "We'll do our best and take as many of those bastards with us as we can, then."

Finn blushed a little. "Uh, Marguerite? If I don't make it back home and you do, please tell everyone how much their acceptance meant to me. You guys are the closest thing that I've ever had to a family. And tell the Genius that if I die, he's to find some chick that looks as much as possible like me and marry her and have kids. It would be a shame if a man of his stature died without progeny. It would be a loss to mankind." She wiped a tear from her eye, now really afraid.

Marguerite was amused, in spite of her own terror. "Finn, did you say, 'progeny'? Did you even know that word in New Amazonia?"

Finn grinned. "Nope, I doubt it. But I've learned a lot in the past two years. I'm determined to speak well enough to keep up with you, and especially well enough not to embarrass George when we get to England. If I ever do..."

She thought of something. "Hey! Marguerite! Get your pack off and give me your steel mirror!"

"What?! You don't need to primp now, Finn! Those savages will be here at any moment. Why the hell do you need a mirror?"

Finn told her that she thought she could climb to a higher rock and get behind it. Unseen by the enemy, she could use the mirror to signal the Treehouse and bring help.

"At least, Vee can beat her signal drum and warn the Zanga that these guys are coming. We might save Assai's and Sa'eera's lives."

"Oh, the Xingu will probably want to capture them and other Zanga girls. It's the men's' heads they want. That's how they raid. The prettier women live; all others die, if they overcome a Zanga village. The honor in taking a warrior's head is the big thing. There's no glory in shrinking a woman's head. They want their living bodies, if attractive. You know that! Let's just hope it applies to us, if they overrun us. They might just make an exception for us, after what we've done to them!"

XXX

Roxton and Challenger were sitting at a table in the main room in the Treehouse when Veronica walked past and saw a blip of light shining on the wall. She watched it for a moment, then drew their attention to it. "Does that look strange to you, like a signal?" She went to the window and looked out over the jungle below.

Roxton wandered over, feeling sure that there was some other explanation. Challenger continued to ready his fishing tackle. Like Roxton, he supposed that there would be a simple answer for the flickering light.

But when Roxton borrowed Challenger's big binocular from off the table, he was astonished to see that this was indeed a signal. He saw Malone passing by and commanded, "Ned! Get a pencil and write this down!"

"Write what down?" responded Ned. He looked irritated, as if Roxton was asking him to do something that he could do for himself.

"George, get the heliograph," Roxton continued. "I think this is Finn or Marguerite flashing a message to us!"

Challenger went at once for the heliograph, folded in a corner of the room. They kept it there in case it was needed on short notice.

Roxton was now calling out the letters being flashed in Morse code. "X-i-n-g...Good Lord, Ned! They're saying that they're under attack by Xingu headhunters!" He read off more words as Ned wrote down his translations of the flashes.

Challenger hastily erected the heliograph and stood ready to reply. When they realized that Finn was repeating the same message, Challenger flashed back that she had been understood, and that help would soon be on the way.

"Tell Zanga," came the return message.

"I'm on that right now!" exclaimed Veronica. She went to the big drum in the next room and began beating out her recognition sound, then warned Jacoba's village that the headhunters were close and to send help.

"We shall have to hurry, John," said Challenger. "I think I'll take a lighter rifle than usual. My .450 won't be needed for men, and I can take much more ammunition for a .275!"

Veronica went to whisper urgently into Roxton's ear. Soon, Roxton nodded and said, "George, you need to stay here with Ned. Get out the Lewis light machinegun from the arms room. Put it and several magazines of ammunition in this window, on the veranda. We need you here to talk to Finn, via signals. You're in fine shape for your age, but you know that Veronica and I are the logical ones to reach the girls and bring them back. You and Ned will have to defend the Treehouse and give us covering fire as we return."

"Bloody hell, John!" raged the famous scientist. "I can't just sit here and not go to Finn! She needs me!"

"She needs you here, where you can coordinate things with her and us and the Zanga. Your signaling skills are the best that we have. Be honest and admit that you can't run as well as Veronica and I can!"

Grumbling, Challenger agreed, and set down his rifle and went with Malone to the arms room for the Lewis .303 machinegun, captured from the late Avery Burton's slavers. They had a heavier Maxim machinegun, but it was too awkward and heavy to bring upstairs now.

Veronica got out her new knife on a belt with a sheath sewn by Roxton and her bow and arrows, and began filling canteens for her and for Roxton. (She filled extra ones for Finn and Marguerite, knowing that they'd likely need water.) That gentleman buckled on his gun belt with his Colt .45 automatic pistol and Bowie knife and put a bandolier of .303 cartridges over his chest. He took a military Lee-Enfield from the gun rack and they were ready.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Back among the rocks, Finn slipped down next to her companion and said, "Marguerite, they saw me! George signaled back that John and Vee are on the way to help. They're setting up a machinegun to cover us if the enemy attacks the Treehouse. I think we may just get out of this alive!" She held her Winchester over her lap, brushing off a leaf that had stuck to the wooden stock. She turned the rifle slightly in the sun, noting the colorful grain of the wood, which was unusually nice for a standard grade Winchester. She wondered whether the man who had once owned it had paid extra for the better wood. Finn loved fine guns, and even at this perilous moment, she took time to appreciate the craftsmanship in the American rifle.

Marguerite sighed with relief. "I heard the drums. I presume that was Veronica telling the Zanga to get ready?"

Finn nodded. "Yeah, What we hear now, if you listen really closely, is their reply. Jacoba will know what's up. I just wonder if he'll send us any aid."

"Sa'eera and Assai are his favorite wife and his daughter. They'll know, and will agitate for him to help. He's a selfish old bugger, but they have their ways. He's always been a little soft for Assai, and Sa'eera can charm almost anything out of a man when she puts her mind to it, I'm sure. Right now, I'm very inclined to totally forgive her for that striptease she did at the party." Marguerite grimaced, recalling that recent event.

Finn laughed, remembering the Treehouse party where the half-white lass had had too much rum punch and removed her dress, twirling it as she danced to music on the gramophone. The men had certainly enjoyed that, although Challenger had tried to look shocked, especially once he had felt Finn's eyes on him. Roxton hadn't even pretended not to look, damn him, she thought. He felt it was funny, but he had liked it, too. Later that night, Marguerite had made a point of showing him that she could do anything in bed that he even might have fantasized of doing with a dyed blonde half-Zanga girl. Not that she really thought he would make a play for Sa'eera. But some things needed to be impressed on a male mind...and Marguerite, her jealousy aroused, had wanted to make a point of showing John why the woman he had chosen was second to none in her ability to entertain him. Besides, she had enjoyed it. She felt somehow that she was upstaging the young Zanga queen. And John might indeed have had some daydreams about Sa'eera. Well, she'd fixed that!

Finn glanced curiously across at her friend. "Marguerite, why are you smiling? These creeps are coming to kill us!"

Marguerite laughed softly. "Just remembering that party, Finn. Just in case, I showed 'Johnny' a thing or two in bed that I doubt that he had pictured Sa'eera doing."

"Johnny probably didn't even think about screwing Sa'eera," Finn lied. "All he thinks about in that way is you." She was defending her male pal and hunting partner, but she knew that if he had thought of Sa'eera in that way, and probably every man there had, it was only in a passing fantasy. Finn was sure of Challenger's love, but she had been a little jealous. She, too, had reminded her man that night that what he already had in his bed was better than a bird in the bush. It never hurt to keep a man's thoughts where they belonged, and they had wandering minds, if not wandering penises. She trusted Challenger and knew full well that he adored her, but even daydreams might as well be about her, Finn. Not about her close friend from Jacoba's harem. Especially when Sa'eera danced so well, taught by Marguerite to move in ways that could not fail to stir the male imagination…

Now she said, "I wasn't worried. I dance as well as Sa'eera, maybe better. Don't I?" She looked for confirmation.

Marguerite smiled and squeezed Finn's arm. "Of course, you do, Sweetie. I'm sure that George knows that, and he values you for other things, too. If ever there was a man who doted on his woman, it is George Challenger. I half understand why you pamper him so much. He does sort of deserve it."

At the edge of the jungle, one Xingu looked to his mates. "The females have taken cover in those rocks, I am sure. Let us go and get them. They will be too tired to run much further. I am surprised that they have lasted for this long."

The original scout was more cautious. "I told you: they have fire sticks. They are supposed to be able to kill at a great distance, beyond the range of the strongest bow."

"We are a dozen men, and hundreds will be here soon. Should we fear two pale women?!"

He led the way out onto what he failed to recognize as the defenders' designated killing ground.

In plain sight of the girls in the rocks, he began making body motions showing what he envisioned doing to them soon. He was graphic and offensive. He also made hand gestures, as his fellow warriors joined him in laughter. Soon their lust would be slaked!

Finn heard the snock! clack! as Marguerite cycled the bolt of her Lee sporting rifle. She had just chambered a cartridge. "I've had about enough of these fellows, and that one is about to learn a harsh lesson, one that he will take to his grave. I don't need Roxton to defend me all of the time!"

Finn howled in glee. "Girl Power!" she shrieked, and she and Marguerite slapped palms, laughing.

"Set your sights for 250 yards and hold just a little low, Marguerite. You should hit that bastard about dead center. There's no wind to affect the bullet." She lifted her binocular to observe the effect of the shot.

Watching through the eight power magnification of the Zeiss binocular, Finn saw the Xingu man who Marguerite had targeted lurch violently and drop dead. Other Xingu went over to him and seemed to be examining him, wondering what had struck him at this distance. They had heard the shot, and some had heard the bullet pass them, making a loud clap like thunder as it split the air in its passage.

They pointed to the two women, and one warrior shook his fist at them. Others brandished their bows and blowguns. Things were shouted that Marguerite translated for Finn, but which should not pass the ears of refined people!

About a dozen of the Xingu rushed forward, some nocking arrows to their bowstrings as they came.

Marguerite worked the bolt of the .303, and shot three more. Finn killed another, holding high to allow for the drop of the .44 bullet at that distance. She wounded another, hitting him in the shoulder, spinning him around. As he stumbled to his feet, helped by another, Marguerite took careful aim, drew in a deep breath and released half of it, trying for maximum steadiness. She squeezed the trigger carefully, and Finn saw the wounded man jolted by the strike of a softmosed 174 grain bullet that struck the back of his head, and blew out his brains and face. Finn actually saw the red mass propelled forward and up as the bullet struck. She lowered her binocular, awed by what she had seen.

She was repulsed and impressed at the same time. Fascinated, but repelled. She told Marguerite accurately what she had seen, and said, "Well, that's one Xingu who won't shrink any more people's heads to hang on his walls!"

"I do so like to do nice things for Mankind," replied Marguerite. She tried to sound lighthearted, but she was also disgusted with what she had had to do. Yet, killing these savages was better than being killed by them!

She shoved a five-shot clip of .303 cartridges into the magazine of her Lee- Enfield "sporter" and noticed that the surviving Xingu were taking cover in the jungle. Her magazine held ten cartridges, and she resolved to reload after every five shots, keeping five rounds in reserve. But their ammunition was limited!

"That should hold them off for a while," she said. "Is there any more water? I'm dying of thirst!"

"We got dehydrated while we ran all that way," Finn commented. She shook her canteen. It held a few swallows.

"All they have to do is wait, and we'll maybe pass out from thirst before Johnny and Vee get here. We can't eat, either. Never eat when you can't drink; you may choke!"

"Thank you for that helpful thought, Finnykins," replied Marguerite. "Oh, Roxton please hurry! I so want to see your handsome face!"

Finn smiled, and squeezed Marguerite's hand. "We're going to be very thirsty before they arrive, but we won't really starve for a couple of weeks. Believe me, I have cause to know. I saw some people starve. If I hadn't been lucky and pretty, I might have, too, a couple of times."

"What does being pretty have to do with it? Oh, wait: your body was the currency to buy a meal?" She wore a horrified expression.

Finn nodded. "Yeah. And sometimes, people just fed me because I was cute, especially when I was little. George has helped me a lot with that and some other bad memories. I still can't believe that you guys took me in and cared for me. I think I'm living in a dream, and that I'm going to wake up and find myself back in New Amazonia, begging for food and hiding from slavers and just plain mean horse's rears who might rape me or kill me." She stifled a sob and wiped away a tear.

Marguerite set her rifle aside and hugged Finn to her. "Oh, baby, that is all over for you now. We'll get out of this, and you and George will someday have that child that you want. This nightmare will end, and your other one already has. You're loved now, and we wouldn't be without you. I tease you, but you're the friend that I thought that I'd never have!" Marguerite cried a little, too, and wiped her face.

Finn sniffled and said, "I love you, too, Marguerite. Hey: I'd better see what those SOB's are doing." She raised her binocular again. "Still hiding, but I can see them talking and waving their arms."

The women lay beside one another, knowing that they were beyond bow range. They couldn't be hurt at this distance. But they were trapped.

"Gad, I'm dying for a drink," muttered Marguerite.

"Wait here," said Finn. "I'm going to try signaling again." She rose and went up to her rocky tower, taking the polished steel mirror.

She was back in a few minutes. "George says that Veronica and Johnny left quite a while ago. We should see them within an hour, I guess. But they may just be trapped here with us, unless Jacoba sends help."

The sun bore down upon them. Finn snickered, and Marguerite demanded to know what was so funny.

"I was just thinking, Marguerite. You should take off your skirt again and your legs would get a nice tan while we wait. And Johnny would love the view when he finally gets here!" She muffled another laugh.

"Oh, you are just too funny for words to express," Marguerite replied. But when the two women looked at one another, both laughed,

Finn drew her Smith & Wesson .38, swung the cylinder out to the left, and ejected the cartridges. She examined them carefully, reloaded, and holstered the revolver.

Time passed. The jungle was relatively silent, and the sun crept slowly across the sky. A large pterodactyl wheeled overhead, and then vanished as something on the horizon caught its interest.

"I just thought of something!" Finn exclaimed. "Give me your canteen and cover me with your rifle while I go up a tree back there and see if some of those vines have water in them!"

She soon had shinnied up the trunk of a jungle stalwart and had found a vine of the sort that retained water after the rains.

Finn drew the Swiss Army knife from its black leather pouch on her gun belt and selected the saw blade. The knife was a genuine Victorinox, brought with her from the 21st Century. It had the usual blades of a Boy Scout knife, plus a corkscrew, tweezers and toothpick, and a small saw. The saw was very efficient for its size and she soon had the tip of a tough vine off, and was letting water from it pour into the spout of Marguerite's canteen.

She passed the canteen down, and Marguerite set aside her rifle and greedily, desperately, gulped from the canteen.

Finn cut more vines, extracting a few gulps of water from each. She half filled her own canteen and refilled most of Marguerite's before she had run out of vines that she could reach.

Back in the rocks, the women used their binoculars to study the jungle and occasionally viewed the Xingu as they passed between trees, conferring.

"What now?" wondered Marguerite.

Finn shrugged. "We wait. By dusk, they'll come again, I think. By then, maybe John and Vee will be here, maybe even some Zanga warriors. All we can do is to wait and hope. She caressed the stock of her Winchester. "At least, we're well armed. If we were like most women on this Plateau, we'd be tied up in their camp by now, or worse." She shuddered, a gesture that provoked the same from her brunette companion.

XXX

Professor George Challenger held the 10X50 binocular to his eyes and swept the area beyond the Treehouse for the thousandth time, then looked further into the distance.

"See anything?" asked Ned Malone. He set a pot of tea and two cups on the folding table near them.

Challenger shook his head. "Nothing, Ned. Roxton and our women must have met by now, or soon will. I just hope that those bloody headhunters haven't caught them. But we should have heard more shooting if they were engaged in a battle. That may be a good sign, the lack of gunfire."

He accepted a cup, drank from it, and thanked Malone for making tea. "It helps one to endure much in life if he can have a cup of really good tea."

Malone agreed, although he, like so many other Americans, really preferred coffee. He examined the stack of magazines for the Lewis gun, and began pushing fresh .303 cartridges from a wooden box into another round "drum" magazine. He wanted at least five magazines ready if the Xingu came. Their rifles were also at hand, Malone's Springfield .30/06 and a .275 Rigby for his British companion. The double-barreled elephant guns that they usually carried were in the rack in the room beyond, lacking the accurate range for the coming work, and recoiling too heavily to fire many shots at one sitting.

Malone lifted his Bausch & Lomb 7X35 glass and scanned the forest. "I don't see anything, either, and B&L advertise that these things will detect an apple on a tree a mile away! I didn't believe that until I tried it. It worked!" (NOTE: the author has personally confirmed this claim. That level of precision does require a steady hold, but the binocular is capable of that resolution. )

Challenger smiled indulgently. "My Zeiss has very similar quality, and it is indeed remarkable what a fine binocular will accomplish. But I can barely wait until I see Finn in person! Oh, Ned! I do miss her so!"

Malone put a comforting hand on Challenger's shoulder. "It can't be long now, George. We should hear shots or something soon. Not much we can do here, right now."

"No, "admitted the older man. He stroked his beard, kept trim these days by Finn's skilful use of scissors, like his hair, once so unruly. "Now, we just wait. That's the easy part, yet so blamed difficult!"

CHAPTER NINE

The heat was oppressive and the air grew damp as storms built in the distance. Finn grew drowsy, and without realizing it, she dropped off to sleep, leaning up against Marguerite.

Marguerite eased Finn down until she was curled alongside her as Marguerite sat. She stroked Finn's hair sympathetically, periodically looking up to see if the Xingu were coming. She took off her hat and fanned herself and Finn.

Finn stirred in her sleep, and felt for the person beside her. She ran an unconscious hand over Marguerite's leg, bunching the material, rubbing it smooth, her hand moving slowly, caressing her companion. Finn shifted closer and hugged Marguerite. "Jorge, amado," she murmured. She seemed to think that she was addressing George Challenger. Being Brazilian by birth, she sometimes still dreamed in Portuguese...

Finn's hand strayed to Marguerite's blouse and she toyed with a breast, manipulating the nipple. Marguerite was not wearing a bra. She felt the nipple harden, and she breathed sharply. Finn was as good at this as was Roxton, and Finn had the instinctive female knowledge of just how to do this with maximum effect from the woman's viewpoint. My word, she is terrific, Marguerite thought. It reminded her of another girl whom she had known for a time in France when she was in her early 20's. One night, they had gotten drunk, and the other girl had come undressed into Marguerite's bed. Before Marguerite was fully awake, the other girl had stimulated her to the point that Marguerite had allowed it to continue, reciprocating as her companion moaned in ecstasy. After a few moments, Marguerite's drink-fogged mind had cleared and she had fully comprehended what she and Lisette were doing. She had broken it off, sending the other girl back to her own bed. But after, Marguerite had lain alone, thinking of how that had felt.

She shuddered now, the memory of Lisette's nimble fingers and tongue fresh in her mind. Finn was every bit as skilled as Lisette had been, and Marguerite flushed with a mix of pleasure and shame as she enjoyed what was happening. After a minute, she realized that Finn was probably dreaming of herself with Challenger, but doing what she wanted Challenger to do to her!

After perhaps three minutes had gone by, an amused and embarrassed Marguerite shook Finn gently, removing her hand from her blouse.

"Finn, Darling, wake up, damn it! That's me that you're fooling with, not George doing it to you!"

When Finn had focused her thoughts, she blushed crimson. "Was I doing what I'm afraid I was doing?" she managed.

"Well, Sweetie, you were playing VERY skillfully with my boobs. If George does that well by you, I don't wonder that you pamper him so much."

Finn giggled, still as red as an apple in her embarrassment. "Actually, once he'd practiced a little and I'd given him some tips and gotten some wine down him the first few times, he caught on to how to do that really well. I think he regarded it as a scientific experiment, to see how well he could arouse the female human lab animal. Or, something. Whatever. But he got genuinely good at it. At first, I screwed him to get in his good favor. Then, to lie with him after, and tell him my troubles and have him comfort me, and reassure me that I wasn't a slut or a cheap whore because of some things that I'd done. He was probably as good as a real shrink when I told him the nastier stuff, the horrors that I'd seen and how I'd had to live several times when things were really bad. That's when I fell in love with him. Hard. Like I'd fallen from a skyscraper. That's a really tall building, Limey chick. I don't know if they had those yet in this time. Anyway, I fell like I was at a great height when it hit me how much he had come to mean to me." Finn shuddered. ""Marguerite, I love that man so much that it scares me sometimes. Anyway, we started fooling around a lot, and he got more laid back, like, relaxed. And I think he learned to really make love for the first time in his life, instead of performing a biological function or a duty, with Victorian guilt overtones. Does that make sense?" She started. "Oh, my gosh! Maybe I also made real love for the first time. I'd tried to 'put out' well enough to please a few guys that I'd been with, and I'd done it out of fear for my life if I didn't get another guy 'off', but George probably was my first real, serious, mature love!" She looked reflective. "Oh, damn, Marguerite, I miss that man! I know that you and Johnny have it really bad for one another, but I'm not just bragging when I claim that George and I have the romance for all time. But I'm sorry that I was fooling with your boobs. I was so totally asleep. Hey! Have you checked on the Xingu?"

Both women looked shocked as they realized their peril and scrambled up. Finn took her binocular in hand and scanned the fringe of the jungle. She saw furtive movement, and it was clear that some of the enemy were slipping around to their left, trying to surround them. This was not good!

XXX

Veronica Layton and Lord John Roxton were doing their best to make good time on a secluded trail.

"I'm so glad that I remembered this old, shorter route toward those ruins," exclaimed the Layton lass, huffing for breath as Roxton helped her up a shale embankment.

"If we had known about this route, the girls would had had easier going," Roxton acknowledged, trying not to criticize Veronica for letting his woman be in more danger than she might otherwise have been. But he realized that Veronica had simply not thought much about those ruins since she was perhaps 15, and she was now 24.

"Well, don't blame me too much," the blonde beauty continued. "They wouldn't have gotten this far on the return leg, anyway. I just hope they don't shoot us if they see us coning toward them in the long grass! Your little buddy Finn can be bloodthirsty if she sees a chance to kill something! And Marguerite is a pretty good shot, too."

Roxton felt mildly offended. "Finn never kills unless she has to, or in the hunt. And I've seen her pass up a sure shot if we had enough meat. She isn't bloodthirsty. On the contrary, having felt her own life in danger so often, she tends to spare others when she can. The only exception is that she loves to kill roaches and snakes. And caimans. But I've even seen her spare snakes and caimans if she was in a fairly good mood. For one thing, we need to conserve ammunition."

Veronica paused and took the tall hunter by the sleeve. "John, I'm sorry. And Finn is at least as much my friend as she is yours. We're virtual sisters, and I love her dearly. I'm just a little afraid of her famed marksmanship right about now. I saw her kill that guy in a tree from over 300 yards away on the road to Xochilenque. It was pretty sobering to see. And Marguerite's nerves are probably frayed now, too. I just hope they look carefully before they shoot, and don't hit us! Look: do you think that Finn will blame George for not coming for her? He really would have slowed us down some. Surely, she'll see that, however much she loves him?"

Roxton was surprised. "I should think so! It's self evident. George is in fine shape for a man in his 50's, but one has to face reality. And we did need him and Ned to signal and to man that machinegun. I have a bad feeling that we are going to need covering fire by the time we're home again!"

Veronica heaved for air, half out of breath by the time they had reached a level surface. "I just hope that Jacoba sends help. If he doesn't, we may lose our heads by nightfall!"

"No use worrying," muttered Roxton, "Let's just do our best."

And the two moved forward, watching as ever for snakes, centipedes, and all of the other threats of this tropical paradise that was also as grim a danger zone as it was beautiful.

XXX

Changa, war chief of the headhunters, signaled to his men. They would rush forward, trying to reach the women before they saw their danger and reacted. From the edge of the forest on the left, there was only a 200 yard gap before they could be in among those rocks that the white girls had adopted as their improvised fortress. He had ordered that the women be taken alive, if possible, and several men held lengths of rope ready to bind Marguerite and Finn. But if there was no choice, the women would be killed, rather than risk too many more men. Changa was accountable to the paramount chief of his tribe for any casualties, and excessive losses were frowned upon. Still, he reasoned, these were just two WOMEN! How had they been so successful in evading capture thus far?! It defied the natural order of things. Damn those fire-sticks of their race...

XXX

Finn laid her Winchester over her pack, and sighted on a Xingu just visible behind a bush. As he stood for a better view, she gently squeezed the trigger and sent a 200 grain bullet to land on the bridge of his nose, blowing a nasty mess of brains and bone out the back of his skull. This would-be infiltrator was within 100 yards, and she had been tracking his progress until he was a fairly easy target.

Immediately, another rose and raised his bow. Marguerite Krux fired her .303 and her shot smacked him in the sternum and he dropped like stock market prices would in 1929, a horror of another order yet to come.

There was a bloodcurdling yell from the Xingu lines, and another 30 or so men charged them, some shooting arrows from 150 yards away, without any serious hope of hitting their intended targets. The rifles were more effective. Finn killed three men and wounded four in a few seconds, racking the lever to fed fresh cartridges and firing as her sights came to bear for a second or so on each man. Marguerite killed another three and wounded two more. Then, the others ran for cover, another dying as he reached the woods, a .303 bullet taking him between the shoulder blades.

Changa decided. "One more rush from the right and the center. If we do not reach them, we will wait for dusk. These women have cost us too much. They must be taken or slain. If they are taken, those who have lost relatives will have first turns with their bodies, if they are taken alive. I will forego my rights as senior warrior for he whose brother was first slain to have the golden-haired slut first! On my honor, I swear this! Now, drink and eat a little. We will wait a bit."

"What about the Zanga?" inquired one of his fellows. "Their drums have fallen silent. I fear they are enroute here."

Changa shifted uneasily. "We will see to these women, and then we will withdraw for a day or two, and make the Zanga think that we have gone. When they drop their guard, we will strike one of their smaller villages. We are expected to return with a dozen or more women and more heads. I think we can do that, if we remain out of sight for a few days."

The silence was broken an hour later as a hundred Xingu rushed from two directions. Three came down from the rocks above, having infiltrated through the jungle.

This was almost successful. Marguerite was caught with an empty rifle and as she fumbled to force another five-shot clip of cartridges into the magazine, she was bowled over by two Xingu men. One seized her left arm and swung her around. She stamped on his instep with her boot heel, and he staggered back, howling in pain. Another grabbed her legs, tackling her, pulling her arms behind her, starting to bind her wrists.

Finn fired her final shot from the .44 into one Xingu man and dropped the Winchester. She drew her Smith & Wesson and stepped over beside the struggling Marguerite. She seized the red man's long hair knot and pulled it back with all of her strength. Sticking the muzzle of the .38 up under his chin, she pulled the trigger and saw the grisly result as the top of his skull spun off. The man dropped like a rock. Another was just reaching the enclosure and she swung up the .38 and shot him twice in the solar plexus, the smooth trigger action of the Smith & Wesson aiding her shot placement. The range was less than ten feet! The warrior tripped over his own blowgun as he fell. Scrabbling around for a few frantic seconds, he died, even as she fired a finishing shot into his temple.

Finn knelt by Marguerite and untied the half -fastened loops around her wrists.

"Cover me, Marguerite," she screamed. "I have to reload." She swung out the cylinder of the .38, shoved the extractor rod, and watched the empty brass cases fall free. Opening the spare ammunition pouch on her belt, she managed to get three more cartridges into the cylinder, and then fumbled the fourth as a wildly screaming headhunter leaped over a block of lava and raised his spear.

Marguerite flung off the final coil of rope and drew her own handgun, a Smith & Wesson also, but of the older, top-opening sort, with a concealed hammer to avoid snagging if it had to be fired from within a coat pocket or a lady's muff. She shot three times into the man's chest, and he dropped, the main artery to his heart severed.

Finn found the fallen .38 Special cartridge and finished loading the fifth and sixth rounds into the cylinder and closed her revolver. She shot one more man right between the eyes, cocking the hammer for a more precise aim as he came.

Others were within mere yards, and it seemed that the women's' fate was sealed. Marguerite saw her whole life flash before her eyes, and decided to die fighting. By now, she feared that surrender wasn't even an option. The Xingu were too angry. She thought of John Roxton and his grief for an instant. Well, John can be proud of me, she reasoned: I died game!

Finn stooped to her pack and grasped her sole remaining grenade. Pulling the pin, she let the handle flip off and held it for an instant before throwing it as far as she could. It was heavy for her feminine muscles, but it arced over into the middle of the onrushing headhunters. Finn threw herself flat, screaming for Marguerite to fall

WHAM! went the Mills bomb, and eight Xingu fell, some screaming terribly in their agony. The others, totally startled by this unforeseen event, howled in anger and terror and ran for cover. Several bled from shrapnel wounds, one seriously. Another was concussed by the blast and was led away by a friend, his ears bleeding.

One Xingu man had fallen a few feet away and he was struggling to rise, a machete in hand. Finn threw a rock into his face, and he clasped his hands to his smashed nose and cried out. He stumbled, and tripped over a branch on the ground. Finn took out her Bowie knife and slipped around behind him, hauling his head back by the hair, as she had with the man who was binding Marguerite. She flinched for only a fraction of an instant, then plunged the blade into his carotid artery and heaved forward, the sharp edge of her knife ripping out his throat. His slashed artery pumped blood everywhere and he died as he struggled for control of his convulsing body.

Marguerite watched in horror. "Finnykins, remind me to NEVER seriously upset you!" she exclaimed.

"Damn it, Marguerite, quit making jokes and reload! Both guns!" She holstered her .38, and grabbed for the Winchester, wiping her hands first on a bunch of grass. She had handled the .38 by her fingertips to avoid getting blood on her prized sidearm. Stuffing fresh .44 cartridges into the tubular magazine of her .44 Winchester, she saw Marguerite out of the corner of her eye as she also began reloading. One more rush like this, and they knew they were doomed!

They were not fast enough in reloading. Two more Xingu who had been coming down through the upper rocks rose and aimed their weapons. One had a blowgun, but as he filled his lungs to launch a poisoned dart, an arrow slammed into his right kidney and the head stuck out from his stomach. He screamed in mortal agony and fell, clutching his wound. The other man was also unsuccessful in throwing a spear. His head exploded as a .303 bullet took him through the ear. He swerved violently around and dropped, dead.

Both women looked up, shocked. They were almost beside themselves with joy as they recognized Veronica and Roxton, standing behind a copper colored boulder. Roxton sighted on several Xingu who were running toward them. He fired four spaced, aimed shots as quickly as he could kill one man and swing his sights onto another. He operated the bolt of his rifle with oiled precision, using a technique learned on the bloody fields of France and Belgium from 1914-1918. A trained British soldier using this technique could operate the action of his rifle faster than most would believe, had they not seen the result. The German Army, having received long range fire from massed British troops, credited their enemy with far more machine guns than they actually possessed. The hail of fire that riflemen of the British Expeditionary Force could deliver against a large target was astonishing! Now, Roxton used this technique on a smaller scale, killing three Xingu men and wounding a fourth as they broke and fled. Veronica killed two more with her bow.

The Xingu moaned for their fallen comrades and declared that surely, these women were bewitched!

Darkness would soon fall, and the Xingu leader argued that they must be ready to crawl forward and kill these devil women as soon as they could no longer see to shoot their rifles.

CHAPTER TEN

Marguerite hardly let Roxton ram home another five shot clip into his rifle before she dropped her pack, where she had been searching for cartridges, and ran to him.

Finn made a face, called, "Hi, Vee! About time that you two turned up!" And she reloaded Marguerite's rifle. But she wore a delighted grin from ear-to-ear.

Roxton passed his rifle to a laughing Veronica and caught Marguerite in his embrace and swung her around and around, both kissing like they had thought never to see one another again. Which wasn't far from the truth...

"Oh, John," Marguerite cried, "I can't believe that it is you! I just KNEW that Finn and I would die here in a few minutes! Oh, hold me! Kiss me! I love you so much! I prayed constantly that I would feel myself in your strong arms yet again! Oh, Johnnn...!" And she began crying in relief and in joy.

Finn walked over with Marguerite's rifle, now loaded again. "Hi, Johnny, Veronica," she managed. Then, she set the rifle aside and began sniffling. Veronica stepped forward and held her.

"Where is George?' begged Finn."Is he all right?"

Told that Challenger and Malone were back at the Treehouse, she sighed in relief. Then, she asked why her man hadn't come for her. When they told her the reason, she looked angry for a moment, then she thought of how Challenger must feel now, not even knowing whether she lived.

"Oh my gosh, George will be so worried," she mused. "He will be so guilty when he sees me! I know him. Remind me to tell him that I don't blame him. He will feel so inadequate and frustrated!"

"We did have a hard time convincing him and Ned to hold our own fort," Roxton acknowledged. "Just remember not to blame him, Finn. He hates himself about now, I'd bet. You've got that part right. And we had better get the hell out of here and resume this reunion later, when we're clear of this lot. Did you kill many? This place looks like an abattoir, a butcher house!"

"We got quite a few," Finn acknowledged. "Come on, Marguerite; let's go, while we can. Those creeps will be back in earnest as soon as they recover from the shock of that grenade. Johnny, have you got any more grenades at all?"

Roxton laughed. "So, that's how you stopped them? Yes, here, take two more. I have six altogether. I rather fancied that we might find a use for them. And we brought spare canteens. Anyone thirsty?"

Marguerite grabbed an offered canteen and gulped water. She was thirsty, alright! Finn followed suit, telling how she had found some water in the vines nearby. "If we hadn't found that water, I don't know what we would have done," she admitted. "We were really parched. Marguerite, get your arms off of Johnny for a minute. I'm going to hug and kiss your man real quickly, and then we'd better get out of here."

Laughing, Marguerite relinquished her hold on Roxton and went to gather her things as Finn hugged the smiling hunter and kissed his cheek. "Man, am I glad to see you, Johnny! And you Vee. I swear, I thought we were goners, for sure."

"It looks as if you two gave a good account of yourselves," observed Veronica. She went for Finn's things and brought them over. They quickly washed blood off of Finn's Bowie and she sheathed the knife. Roxton noticed how long the enemy arrows were, although the bows themselves were long, too. The shafts were at least twice the length of an English arrow! He was reminded of the long shafts cast by the Tecamayan atlatls in Xochilenque, and of similar drawings of Aztec originals. Bernal Diaz del Castillo had described firsthand the effects of these in Aztec hands. (See, "The Conquest of Mexico", by Bernal Diaz del Castillo, available in many langauges and in print since the 1500's.)

Shadows were pronounced by now, and the little group slipped away in the jumble of rocks without being seen by the Xingu, nursing their wounds in the jungle beyond.

When they could stand without being seen, Marguerite took Roxton's hand and walked beside him, grinning like a Cheshire cat. The couple was talking animatedly and was clearly overjoyed to be together again.

"I think those two like one another," noted Veronica.

Finn snickered. "Yeah, no kidding! Vee, thank you SO much for coming. I just hope that we haven't put you and Johnny in danger, too. We've been fighting these Xingu headhunters off since last night, and running like rabbits with a hawk right behind them. We aren't safe yet. I bet they'll keep after us. Will the Zanga help?" She looked anxiously for a positive answer.

But Veronica shrugged. "Who knows? Jacoba being what he is, who he is, he may have just decided to withdraw into his villages and await an attack. We lost track of the drum signals while we were in a ravine, and I don't know what he ordered. If we can get close to home, the boys will let the Xingu have a taste of that Lewis gun and they may give up on pursuing us."

The two blonde - haired women walked together, talking further as they planned which way to take home. Veronica told Finn about the short cut, and Finn and Marguerite sighed in relief that they would save several miles that they would otherwise have had to travel, close to exhaustion.

When they reached a small, clear stream, Finn paused and washed off the remaining blood from the man whose throat she had cut. Marguerite told their friends how she had come to be so bloody, and Veronica and Roxton looked at Finn with new respect and a little awe. They had aready helped to clean her bloody knife, but hearing how she had used it impressed them.

"What, did I turn purple, or something?" demanded Finn. "What are you two staring at? I'm still me. I just had to do what I did. We were getting low on ammunition, so I used the knife. Thanks for making that for me, Johnny. I really needed it today." She wiped a tear from an eye, trying to look brave and as if she hadn't done much.

Roxton looked soberly at her. "Oh, you're very welcome, Finn. I'm glad that you had it when it was needed." But inside, he wished that it hadn't been needed. Neither Finn nor his beloved Marguerite should have had to see, let alone do, the things that they had done this day. If he had the chance, some more headhunters were going to pay the price for menacing his woman and his "almost" little sister and favorite hunting partner...

XXX

The shadows were longer now, and they were careful not to fall among the rocks as they traveled along the stream for nearly a mile before they heard angry shouts behind them as the Xingu rushed the old rock shelter and realized that the women had gone.

Crossing the stream on a bridge improvised from a few logs lashed together with rotting vines, the foursome cut the vines at the end nearest them, heaving the logs apart. They didn't fall apart completely, but the logs would now roll as the headhunters sought to use the old bridge, and this would slow them. The water here was fairly fast and deep, and the enemy would probably cast about for a better crossing.

The Xingu were further inconvenienced when one man blundered into a wasps' nest in the gloom of the forest. The angry insects swarmed out, stinging as many men as they could.

The fugitives heard the cries and yelps of pain and wondered what was happening. They had not seen the wasps and could only guess the source of their pursuers' pain.

Moving on, the quartet at last had the Treehouse in sight. They lit torches, hoping that the defenders would recognize them. Roxton took out his flashlight and swung it around, letting Challenger and Malone see the electric light, which no one but them would have in this place. He repeated this several times as they neared their goal.

In the Treehouse, Ned Malone focused his binocular on the flickering lights and realized that one was steady and was flashing a Morse signal. He called Challenger, who soon read the signals.

"It's our friends!" he shouted gleefully. He shined back his own flashlight, hoping that the recharged batteries would last for the time of their urgent need.

As the sun began to set, Challenger looked further back, his binocular easily picking up fleeting images of the advancing enemy. He pointed these out to Ned, and the men wished fervently that their friends would be able to outdistance their foe.

Challenger signaled with his flashlight: "Xingu close! Hurry!"

Roxton read the flashing message and the four Treehouse dwellers redoubled their efforts, although nearly exhausted.

"I'd give a pretty penny for a flight of RAF fighters to strafe these damned headhunters about now," muttered the tall hunter.

"While you're at it, wish for a roast beef dinner for two and a bottle of Chateau Latour," added his woman.

Finn and Veronica looked at each other, shook their blonde heads and grinned. The Roxtons were always entertaining to hear.

"Ayeyeowww!" cried a Xingu warrior and shot an arrow at the fleeing whites. He and ten others rushed closer, closing the distance.

"That chap has not learned proper respect for modern rifles," complained Roxton. He stopped, turned, and pushed the safety lever of his Lee-Enfield forward to the "Fire" position. He carefully tracked an oncoming Xingu and pressed the trigger as the man ran between two large bushes. BLAM! spoke the veteran of trench warfare. It killed Amazonian Indians as handily as it had slain Germans.

The muzzle flash in the dimming light was impressive and the Xingu who saw it oohed and aahed. Clearly, this was a powerful weapon!

Others running toward the refugees tripped over a vine that Roxton had rigged to the loosened pin on a grenade handle. The handle flipped free and the Treehouse crew saw a flash of yellow light before they heard the loud crump of the exploding grenade. More cries from the dying and the injured reached their ears.

"I hate doing that to other humans, " Roxton declared, "but these fellows are just reaping the harvest that they have sown! That will teach them to mess with my woman and my hunting pal!"

Marguerite's heart swelled with pride as she heard herself called Roxton's woman. She leaned in and kissed John before he grasped her hand and led on. Veronica and Finn followed closely, Finn's thumb ready to cock the Winchester's hammer if a Xingu appeared too close for comfort.

In the Treehouse, Challenger readied the Lewis gun. Malone stood by with a spare magazine. "Be careful who you shoot, George," reminded Malone. "Our friends are out there, too!" He was deeply afraid for Veronica and the others.

"No worries, Ned," the big scientist replied. "If my calculations are correct, I can drop bullets into that front line of savages on the first burst. And they are far enough behind Roxton and the others that I have no fear of hitting the wrong people."

He steadied his aim, waited until the leading Xingu pursuers were crossing a patch of open ground 400 yards from the Treehouse, and triggered a burst from the Lewis.

Rat-tat-tat-tat-tat! chattered the gun. The Xingu had never heard such a sound. Roxton had heard it far too often, and rejoiced that it was from his own lines that the sound had come. The enemy in Europe had hated that noise, dubbing the Lewis gun "the Belgian rattlesnake". That "snake" was now striking a new foe far from Flanders fields, but with equal effect.

Ned changed magazines as the gun ran dry, and lifted his own rifle. He managed to drop two more Xingu, and missed another. Challenger fired several more short bursts from the Lewis, with telling effect.

Roxton led his little party to the electric fence, opened the gate, and hurried everyone inside before fastening the gate again. The elevator was called and Finn and Marguerite were sent up first. Roxton and Veronica caught the car on its next trip.

"Well, hello, travelers," greeted Ned Malone. "Want some limeade? I thought you might be a little dry!" He gestured to the pitcher and glasses on the table near the window from which Challenger was firing another burst from the light machinegun.

Some daring warriors reached the fence and tried to clamor over. The electric current had been switched on, and the cries of those who touched the fence were pitiful to hear. Roxton threw down two more grenades for good measure.

Additional firing was now coming from the rear of the Xingu force and voices rose in dismay as an occasional bullet thudded home, despite the notoriously poor Zanga marksmanship. The Zanga had obtained some Mauser 7mm rifles from the late Avery Burton, and they used them in battle. Their precision left something to be desired, as the men shooting those rifles often believed that what killed was the loud noise they made. Roxton had taught them how bullets killed, but they had only listened politely. Subconsciously, these primitive tribesmen "knew" that the thunderclap of the shot was lethal. Otherwise, why were the magic weapons so loud?

Other Zanga closed now with the Xingu, and spears, clubs, machetes, axes, and blowguns took their toll. Those in the Treehouse rejoiced that aid had finally come!

XXX

"I only have six spare cartridges for my .38, and just 11 for the Winchester," Finn said, heaving to catch her breath. She accepted a glass of limeade from Ned, smiling thankfully. "I need to get down to the gun room for more ammo."

"Not to worry, Darling," said Challenger. "We brought up more ammunition for both of your guns and for the Roxtons' .303's." He gestured to where the boxes of ammunition sat in a chair.

Finn nodded and went over and began refilling her pouches. "Genius, are you all right? I've been worried sick about you."

"It was you who were in the greatest danger," responded the tall scientist. He stood by her, wanting to seize her in his arms, but feeling inadequate because he had not gone to her in her time of dire need.

Finn looked shrewdly at him, assessed what was the matter, and said, "George, thank you for waiting here. That was really best. Johnny and Vee told me that you wanted to come. But we all know that you were needed more here." She avoided saying anything about his age slowing them down. She well knew the depth of male pride and the need to feel manly. Playing to that had become second nature to her, and had saved her life on occasion. It also applied to loved ones, lest their self esteem be damaged and a relationship harmed through it. Finn wasn't about to risk her relationship with Challenger!

He asked whether she knew how much he had wanted to come to her, and she nodded and hugged him. "Kiss me, you big genius! I have really missed you! Marguerite got a big kiss from Johnny when he came and now, it's my turn!" She smiled as best she could, near collapse from exertion.

Challenger saw her condition and kissed her, hugging her briefly. Then, he led her to a chair and handed her her drink. They looked into one another's' faces and a slow blush suffused Finn's features and then his. "I'm glad to see you, Darling," he repeated. Then she was standing, in his arms, crying as she told him what they had endured.

"Here they come again!" called Ned, reaching for his Springfield.

"No, hold your fire!" commanded Roxton, looking through his binocular. "Those are Zanga, I think. Veronica?" He passed her the Zeiss 8x30 glass.

She adjusted the focus and said, "Yes, that's actually Xma'Klee in front, and I recognize one of their war chiefs, Kla'Tuc. Xma'Klee is signaling that he wants to come up. Turn off the electric fence."

Xma'Klee, Paramount Shaman of All the Zanga, stepped off the elevator into the Treehouse. He had left his war captain and their men, several hundred strong, below. They feared the magic of the elevator, and even those few invited to do so had always declined to come up into the home in the branches of the great tree. This was white man's business, and the Sorceress and her friends lived there. Better to avoid it, although their youngest queen, Sa'eera, and the king's daughter, Assai, liked these people.

Xma'Klee was more advanced in his thinking, and he communicated professionally with George Challenger, the white shaman, to their mutual benefit. He also liked the way that Veronica prepared certain foods, and was always happy to accept a dinner invitation here.

He had come now on grimmer business.

XXX

Xma'Klee told the others that when the Zanga had heard Veronica's drum, they did not know the number of the Xingu or how they came, perhaps from more than one direction. Jacoba had called a meeting of the war council in his main village, and it was decided to send scouts to seek out the Xingu and determine their strength.

Sa'eera and Assai had called on their husband and father to send aid to the white women, but he had demurred, until he knew more about the extent of the peril. Finally, he had allowed his chief shaman to lead a relief expedition to the rescue of the Treehouse dwellers. Sa'eera had reminded him that Challenger was the source of the blonde hair dye that made her tresses so pleasing to him, and that the great white shaman had also cured some of them from grave illnesses. It was the white sorceress, Marguerite, who had taught his women to dance so pleasingly for him. Surely, he should help these people!

Grudgingly, he had conceded that the whites were their friends and needed help. So Xma'Klee had led 200 warriors here, many armed with the Mauser rifles that made them so formidable against other tribes.

The headhunters had now broken and were in full retreat. The Zanga were arriving in greater strength, now that they knew that this was the only Xingu war party nearby. Tomorrow, all the Xingu would be dead or have fled.

"We have captured a few," he added.

"What will happen to them?" asked Marguerite, dreading the answer.

Xma'Klee shrugged. "The usual. Some will be buried alive. Others will be tied on the river bank for caiman and crocodiles to consume them as they live, while we watch from a distance. You need not be concerned that they will trouble you again."

Challenger made a face at this news, and Xma'Klee rounded on him. "George Challenger, you are a wise man. But your race is weak about dealing with such a foe. If these live, they cannot be freed. Next year, they would return with their fellows, to rape, pillage and plunder. They came to take our heads, and to steal our women. There can be no mercy for them. They do not really expect any more. That is not their way, and it is not the Zanga way."

"George didn't say anything!" protested Finn, defending her man. But she agreed that the Zanga way was barbarous.

Xma'Klee looked at her soberly. "Woman- Who- Kills, you of all persons should know that Challenger's face spoke his feelings. You read his signals so well, knowing his heart as no others have or can. Your union is blessed by the spirits. Soon, I think you shall bear his child. I sense this. In your love for him and for these other friends, recall that the Xingu do not share your people's ideals. They take what they can, and kill and burn the rest. We deal with them accordingly.

"Now, Finn, "he continued. "I saw in the medicine hut things which happened today. I saw you slay one Xingu man with that knife on your belt, the one that Lord Roxton made for you. This has troubled you, more than those whose lives you have taken with bullets. More, I think, than the life that you took in Xochilenque with your hands alone. Do not grieve, for had you not killed that man, you would have been in great danger. I saw another who tried to bind Ma'Greet. You saved her. These things I saw in the spirit hut, in my trance. Are they not so?"

Finn and Marguerite admitted, shocked, that these things were true. They always marveled at how this witch doctor knew what he did. In Burton's headquarters, he had seen them chained in their slave cell and appeared in a vision to Marguerite, telling her to warn Finn that rescue was near at hand. (See, "A Night in the Lost World.")

"Great Shaman, I am shamed at my weakness, but I am a mere woman, and I shrink from what you will do to our foe. But in my head, I know that it is as you have said. I am just sad that it cannot be otherwise." Finn was aghast at what the Zanga would do to their captives, but she knew the validity of what Xma'Klee said. Yet, it bothered her. She was from a savage world, herself, but she wasn't insensitive to such things, and she had become more so since becoming part of this "family", with their traditional Anglo-American values.

"What is this about Finn becoming pregnant?" demanded Challenger. He wanted to change the subject.

Xma'Klee understood. He looked at Finn and the scientist and told them that soon, she would be "barren" no more, and would be with child within a few months. "I was troubled at how your women have not conceived," he narrated. "So, I went into the spirit hut and smoked the smoke and cast the bones, and I saw that this will come to pass. You will have a son by the end of this year. Rejoice, for he will become a great warrior and statesman among your kind." (See the Epilogue to, "The Death of Zoth". The young Arthur Challenger also appears in three other of my fics.)

"Well, that is wonderful," said Challenger, trying to humor this savage witch doctor. He thought that he and Finn might conceive, but to be told this by a man who had dreamed it after taking hallucinogens and throwing around some animal bones in a smoky room was incredible! Could he have foreseen something that would actually happen?!

Veronica cleared her throat. "Great Shaman, we offer you refreshment. Will you take limeade or coffee with us?"

Xma'Klee smiled at her. He had always liked this blonde white girl, who had grown up largely in his village. He thought that her man, this Ned Malone, was a bit weak, but he had grown stronger in the last year, and was now perhaps worthy of having this golden jungle girl for his mate. He said that he would indeed like some of the fruit juice.

He remained to talk more with the Treehouse crew, and to tell Veronica and Roxton how pleased he was that they had been able to save the other two women. Then, he took his leave, for he had much to do before he led his warriors back to their village.

When the Zanga had left, the electricity was switched back on to charge the fence below the Treehouse.

The little "family" cooked and ate dinner, talking of the events of the day, and teasing the Challengers about their impending birth.

"Oh, rubbish!" snorted George Challenger. "How that witch doctor can imagine that we will have a child because he dreamed it in a drug-induced trance is beyond civilized belief. I will believe that I am a father when I see more substantial proof of it."

"Well, I did go off of the Pill," Finn pointed out. "Want to see if we can help Xma'Klee's vision along, Genius?" She grinned at his embarrassment.

"I suppose that we are safe from childbirth, Veronica," teased Marguerite. "Xma'Klee didn't say anything about either of us getting in a 'family way'." She laughed, as sure as was Challenger that this was nonsense. Yet, she sensed things herself. She didn't dismiss what the shaman said, having seen his powerful magic.

"Let me get you upstairs and in our bed, and we will see what chance you have of bearing babies," teased Roxton.

A blushing Marguerite let him lead her from the table and upstairs. She had showered earlier, as had he, and they were soon ready to retire for the night

When the Roxtons had left, Veronica looked at the others and said, "Well, I guess we know what THEY will be doing in a few minutes!" She blushed crimson.

"How do you know that we won't be doing the same thing, except that if Challenger's little pills work, we won't get pregnant?" her man asked.

"Ned!" she exclaimed, and slapped him in playful admonishment. "We are not alone!"

Finn snickered. "Don't worry, Vee. If George or I made a big deal out of stuff like that, it would be a case of the pot calling the kettle black! All of us here fool around, and we all know about it. I just hope that I'm not too exhausted to respond if George wants his wicked way with me tonight. I am, like, totally bushed." She looked sober now. "But I am also pretty stressed out about what happened today, especially about me having to use a knife on that creep. I know intellectually that I had to do it, and that it was moral, and probably legal. But it creeps me out personally to have to kill people, especially that way. I'm tough, and I've been through a lot, but I am a woman and I just get all messed up when I have to do that. If it's with a gun, especially a rifle at longer range, that's more detached, and I can handle it. I can even handle it about sticking my .38 under that one guy's chin and pulling the trigger and seeing a piece of his skull spin off. Genius, you may have to help me through that. But I can deal with it. The knife was worse. But I'm glad that I managed to do it."

"I'd bet that Marguerite is, too, "reflected Challenger. "If you two had not had each other, I fear that we would be short two of our family tonight. This was a frightening event. Darling, you were very gallant in what you did. I am very proud of you. I know that both John and Marguerite are, also."

"That's for sure," Veronica emphasized. "I would hate to think of how I would deal with having lost either you or Marguerite, especially now that she has become so much nicer than she used to be."

"No fooling?" asked Finn. "Guys, this helps me a lot. I know how you feel, but your expressing it helps me to get through this. Later, I am probably going to hold onto George and cry my lungs out. I was scared spitless for most of the time that those guys were after us." She shuddered, and Challenger reached over and pulled her to him and hugged her. He kissed her and wiped away a tear.

The Malones looked at one another. Ned said that he needed more coffee and asked Challenger if he did. Then, he went to the kitchen and Veronica came over and comforted Finn. She took Finn's hand and kissed her cheek and caressed her back, soothing the crying heroine.

Finn sobbed and sat on Challenger's lap and held onto him, holding Veronica's hand, too. "Oh, God, I swear that I wasn't going to do this until George and I got upstairs, and I was going to keep it between us. I am so damned embarrassed. Veronica, please forgive me."

"Finn, don't be ridiculous. I am your virtual sister. There's no reason not to share this with me; George's isn't the only friendly shoulder that you can cry on when you need to. None of us here is made of stone, and you and Marguerite went through Hell over the past two days. The Xingu had coming to them anything that you did to them, believe me. I know their reputation, and you did what they deserved!"

"Thanks, Vee," Finn managed. "Genius, let's finish dinner and get upstairs. I am so tired! Look, do you want more spinach or meat? I'm about to stand up, anyway."

Challenger beamed with pride in her, but was humbled by her concern for him even as she suffered from stress and exhaustion. He asked for more of both, and offered to get them while she sat.

"I'm not so messed up that I can't take care of my man." She smiled and ruffled his hair. "You're my hero, George, and you deserve a girl who'll take proper care of you. I'm going to keep right on doing that, and no other chick is ever going to beat me out by making you think that she even might look after you better."

"Finn, good heavens, I have never even entertained the idea of leaving you for another woman!"

"Yeah, and if I take good enough care of you, you never will!" she quipped. But she was smiling as she went with his plate to the kitchen.

Challenger thought about what she had said, and it struck him that she had called him her hero, even after he had been unable to go to her when most needed. His taut features relaxed and he smiled, something that he had thought that he might find difficult for awhile. My word, I do love that girl so very much, he thought, and he smiled even more. I am going to spend tomorrow with her, and to the devil with my plans for what I was going to do in the lab. Finn is more important. Science is vital to me, but there are times when her needs are more vital yet! So, this is what it means to be in love! It is actually a splendid feeling!

Ned and Veronica discussed the Challengers, and decided that Finn would be okay in time. But Veronica said that she wanted to go to her the next day and get her to talk more about what bothered her.

"If she gets it out of her system, she'll handle the trauma better," she said. "You see how much more relaxed she is now than when you first met her, over a year ago. She still has some nightmares about New Amazonia and what happened to her there. But George and I have let her talk it out, and it has definitely helped. She's less uptight and angry, and she smiles more. George and she were made for one another, and I'm SO glad that they got together here. Hey: we have to clean up the kitchen. I hated to ask George and Finn to help. They need each other alone right now."

"I know," agreed Ned. "But let me make you a great offer. If you'll go upstairs and primp and do your hair and put on those gold loop earrings like Finn's and that loincloth that you had to wear in Xochilenque, and dance for me, I'll clean the kitchen all by myself. Deal?"

Veronica blushed. "Oh, Ned! That little loincloth makes me feel more naked than if I was really nude! It's nothing but a belt and a long strip of ocelot fur that goes under me and hangs down in front and back for barely six inches (15cm.) below uh, you know where! I feel so EXPOSED in it!"

Ned leered at her. "I know, Baby! Why do you think you look so hot in it? Cuauhtémoc XIV knew how you and Marguerite would feel in those loincloths. Why do you think he made you wear them in that stadium where he displayed you before John fought Xu'ac?" (See, "The Crystal Skull")

"Oh, I think that Marguerite adapted to that better than I did. She has a proud streak about her body, like Finn does. They're both sort of into having men stare at them! And she was so afraid for John that she was only half thinking about how she looked on display. I was so embarrassed! And I can't dance for you in our room, anyway. The gramophone is down here. I wouldn't have any music."

Ned kissed her, running his hand over her body, nuzzling her neck, which he knew aroused her. He stroked her hair and said, "Baby, I'll bring up that gramophone tonight, and the music that I want to see you move to. You can think of wearing that loincloth with just sandals and earrings as pregnancy practice. You do want to have a baby later this year or early next, right?" He knew this, for they had discussed it many times.

She looked askance at him, but she was amused, too. "Ned, just how is wearing that stuff going to be 'pregnancy practice'?"

Malone laughed. "Honey, if you wear that and let me take off the loincloth midway through your dance, I will be so hot for you that if you go off those pills there's no way that you WON'T get pregnant! Let's do that several more times when you're ready for a baby, and see how it works. I bet that you have your last period within two months after you stop taking the Pill! But I want to wait until early next year to try for parenthood. I want us to have more fun first, just as a couple. We're still getting to know each other. And I don't want you pregnant while Finn is, if Xma'Klee was right."

"Do I really have to dance for you, Mr. Malone? Doing that while wearing that outfit makes me feel so slutty!" But she blushed, actually rather excited that she could make him long so much to see her that way. In truth, although Veronica was more inhibited than the other Treehouse women about deliberately presenting herself in an erotic context, she was very pleased to know that it meant so much to Ned to see her that way.

"You don't look slutty," he promised her. "You just look so damned sexy that you smolder! I think that Finn and Marguerite are a little jealous of you." This was only a guess, for all of the women looked a little critically and appraisingly at one another when they danced in their brief Zanga attire. And they all looked to be sure that the men were fully appreciating them. Veronica was just less bold about showing her vanity. This was odd, for she normally wore the least of any of the three. And she had been raised on the Plateau, where sexuality was more accepted as normal than in the inhibited centers of Europe and America. But she seemed to see this everyday attire as not being deliberately arousing. The little ocelot loincloth made her feel so exposed and desirable that she both feared and loved it.

"Okay, Ned, I'll do this for you. But don't tell Marguerite or John. And you have to really get those dishes clean. Don't rush through that just to get upstairs and see me act like a slut! I want a little time to touch up my hair, anyway. And I want to get that thing on just right, so that it hangs down as much as it will." She kissed him and caressed him intimately. "That's just to get you all hot and bothered, Neddy. If I have to strip to that outfit and dance for you, I want you to suffer a little for it!" She laughed at his expression and fondled him more. "Have fun washing dishes, Ned!" And with that, she ran upstairs, squealing in laughter, leaving a frustrated and aroused Ned Malone in the kitchen.

XXX

Marguerite and John Roxton lay in bed, caressing one another, talking about the events of the past two days. They were nude, the sheet off of them, as they ran their hands over one another.

"That feels marvelous, Lord Roxton. Please don't stop."

"How can I stop fondling you, Marguerite? You are so desirable that my hands simply can't control themselves when you're near. They have an insatiable urge to feel themselves roving over your delectable body. It's a male thing, as Finn would say."

Marguerite chuckled. "You had better have a long talk with your roving hands, John. I shouldn't think that would go over well when we are shopping in Harrod's some day, or in church. Are you going to make me attend church, Darling?" She leaned over and nibbled his ear.

"Probably, sometimes. It's expected of the Earl of Avebury. I have to set an example for my people. Servants, sharecroppers, small land holders, that sort of thing. The whole area looks to the Earl to represent them in Parliament and to set an example. But when we are alone, I intend setting a thoroughly bad example, from a puritanical standpoint. I am a lusty man, my love, and you are the vessel into which I intend to slake my wanton desires, or whatever that sultan chap who once owned you had you say." (See, "A Prisoner of the Sultan, or, How Marguerite Learned to Dance", in the Mature- rated Fiction on this board.)

"'I beg to please you, Master," Marguerite recited from the days when she had had to say that for the Sultan's pleasure. "Let me be the vessel into which you pour the seed of your pleasure. Punish me if I fail to fully and delightfully satisfy you. I remember such phrases all too well, John. Finn isn't the only one here with some evil memories. Do I manage to fully and delightfully satisfy you, Lord Roxton? I shouldn't like to be whipped. I've found that that gets old in a great hurry. I desire fervently that the whipping that I got from Avery Burton will be my last in this lifetime! I was quite pleased when you, George, and Finn used him for pistol practice. He deserved every bullet that you three put into his reprehensible hide." (See, "A Night in the Lost World", a communal fic by six authors.) If they do it right, and that sultan's men and Burton knew how to, it doesn't leave marks on a girl for more a few hours, but the sting of the lash lingers mentally. I can almost feel the whip on me now, just thinking about it. I hope that you will be a merciful master. In return, I will strive to please you beyond what any man has known from any woman. " She laughed. "And that includes George and Finn, although I know better than to argue the point with her."

"Well, if you are a good slave, Miss Krux, I promise not to whip you often. I must say, you have improved greatly since the days when I actually did think of how much fun it would be to punish you with a good spanking.. Did you suspect what was in my mind?"

"John, I knew that you were sometimes very angry with me, and sometimes, you were right to be. I 'had a mouth on me', I admit. I came from a hard background, and I had some serious emotional issues. I still do, but I am handling them far better, now that I have you to help. I still need to find my birth certificate. I want to know who I am, apart from being the future Lady Roxton. I won't vex you excessively now that I want to be yours to a degree that I once never imagined that I would want to belong to a man. I thrill to the idea that you'll actually keep me, despite my controversial past."

"I do mean to keep you, Marguerite. When you admitted your love for me, it struck me that we were definitely man and woman, and that you cared that much for me and that we would wed. And we will. That reminds me... As much fun as it is to talk about your harem skills, we did encounter another issue at dinner. The baby thing. I bragged that I would show you in no uncertain terms how they are conceived. You had better hope that George's little pills work, Darling, for we are about to test their reliability tonight, if you have the energy, after what you have been through. But what if you do conceive? Do you really want to bear a child in this awful place? Shall we wait until we are married in Avebury to try for a child? Do we really want that responsibility? I do, but I will go with your wishes. You, after all, have to bear the baby. What is your will in this? We would have nannies, of course, but I want to be more of a father than most English noblemen tend to be. And I think that our child will need a mother's love and attention, not just a loving nanny."

"Oh, John, dearest John...I do so wish to bear your children. But I want to wait to have them until we have wed. For far too much of my life, I have been a 'fallen woman', not quite respected in better circles. It has undoubtedly colored even my self impression, and accounted for much of my sarcasm and even self loathing. To a degree, of course." She looked at him with wry humor. "I also have a considerable amount of pride in how I have managed to persevere until now. I have achieved much, given my start in life. I have overcome a good deal of adversity. I am somewhat proud of myself, I daresay."

"That suits," reflected Roxton. "I am rather proud of you, too. I can tell you truly, Marguerite, there is no woman on this Earth whom I had rather have on my arm when I arrive home, to show you off to admiring crowds." He smiled, but she knew that he meant every word, and her heart grew full and warm, and she held him and began to cry softly.

"Oh, John, I can barely believe my good fortune! I don't really understand why you have chosen me over other women, even some whom we have met on this very Plateau. I half thought for months that you would pursue Veronica, especially inasmuch as Ned was so unsure of his own feelings for her, and she for him. And the Queen of the Amazons...But she preferred George Challenger, to my surprise, as did Lady Yorkton. I think that George actually thought of a serious liaison with that Amazon and might have courted her, had it not been for their general ways. I see how that might be daunting, for a man." The tinkle of her laughter amused Roxton and he laughed back.

"Well, I had a great deal rather that he take Finn into his bed than Lady Yorkton, as lovely as she was...on the outside. But I never sought any other woman more than you, Marguerite. I'd never have gone to that Voodoo witch even in charity, to help her, had you not pushed me away so often."

"What's done is done, John. Let us not speak of voodoo queens or even of a young girl who was descended from apes rather more recently than the rest of us. I wonder how Renata has fared. We are together at last, and it has made me happier than I ever dreamed that I could be.

"But I should like to wait until I am a respectable married woman to have your children, that we both think better of me. I need that, and your reputation will already suffer quite enough when it becomes known that you have taken me to wife. We should avoid any further scandal, if only for the sake of our children."

The Earl nodded, and kissed her cheek softly. "So be it, Marguerite. Oh, how I love to say your name! I am also much relieved that we won't have to rely on native midwives if you give birth. Let us hope that Challenger's little pills continue to work, for I do want to give them a serious trial. I cannot go without you in my arms. I want to have you fully, daily. Well, most days. There will be times when I want to go fishing with George, when even a woman as desirable as you will not distract me." He chuckled.

"Men!" she snorted. "Oh, very well, John. At least, it is fishing or shooting that attracts you when you want time to yourself, not the Follies Bergere, or worse! But you may play hell getting George away from Finn long enough for much time to yourselves. She will probably come along and serve a picnic lunch or something, to be sure that he is properly waited upon. The good news is that she is quite as happy to cast a line or to shoot a rifle as you yourself are. George is a fortunate man in his choice of a mate. Maybe some times, I can come and keep Finn company in camp as you and the illustrious professor fish? I don't want to be a fishing or hunting widow too often..."

"Perhaps. You can take lessons from Finn in how to wait on a man properly. That will give you something to do in camp, and I will reap the benefit of it!" He laughed, and she loved the sound of it, as she loved smelling of him, loved running her fingers through his wavy sable hair, loved the skilled touch of his fingers on her nipples, with which he now played, looking at her breasts as if they were rare jewels on display to be admired, even adored.

"Don't stop doing that with your fingers, and feel free to use your lips there, too. I must say, you are every bit as talented as Finn in that." And, amid interjections of laughter, she told him of the dozing Finn's wandering hands.

Roxton threw back his head and laughed outright. "Poor Finn! She must have been mortified when she realized what she was doing! Does George know? I shall have to razz him about this."

"Don't you dare, John Roxton! He won't know unless Nicole tells him, and she may. She saw the humor in it. She smiles much more now, and she always did have a sense of humor, if a bit odd, considering how she was raised, if 'raised' is the word for it. But now that you know what she got up to, let us see if you can better her efforts. After you ravish me, I must sleep. I am exhausted. If you were a mere mortal man, I doubt that I should find the energy to enjoy your talented ministrations. But, seeing as you are the god that you are, I suppose that I will have to force myself to stay awake for one round of your lovemaking. But let's get to it, before I fall asleep, even though I am with the famous Lord Roxton, ladies' man par excellence!"

"Your wish is my command, Lady Roxton! Roll over. I'll rub your back first. That should put you in the mood for more!"

But even as he massaged her back and limbs, and ran his loving hands over her hair, Roxton heard her begin to snore and turned her so that she could sleep better, snuggled against him.

Poor woman, he thought, with deep concern and sympathy. How tired she must be! It was almost a miracle that she and Finn had evaded the pursuing, angry, lust-driven headhunters. He drew her to him and kissed her lips and found the sheet and pulled it over them. I will wait until morning to have her, he thought. She will enjoy my efforts more when she is rested, anyway.

Roxton blew out the bedside candle and fanned his pillow to disperse the smoke from the extinguished taper. He saw that Marguerite had the sheet in place, kissed her forehead, and held her as he also drifted off to the Land of Nod.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Changa lurked in the shadowed forest beneath the Treehouse. He had remained when his warriors had retreated, their formation torn asunder by volleys of Mauser fire and arrows from the Zanga ranks, the Xingu now hunted ruthlessly through the jungle. Few would make it home alive. The Zanga hated them, and would be thorough in their pursuit.

Changa knew that other Zanga were on guard near this Treehouse, this strange sculpture in the sky that defied his concept of architectural reason. How it came to be there, he could only speculate. Perhaps it was true, what some of his men had said: that the Brazilian girls were witches?

He did not know that only the blonde Finn was Brazilian. The dark woman was from a land of which he had never heard. But what matter? He hated both with an equal passion. And he knew that there were other "Brazilians" there, another blonde woman with a bow and arrows and a big black-haired man with a fire stick. They had come to help the two women whom his men had first sought to seize. All would die if he had his way. Certainly, he would slay the brasileira (Brazilian girl) who had shouted the rank insult at him, for this was not allowed of men, let alone of a mere woman! Changa seethed at the memory of her standing atop those rocks, shouting back at him, "! Filho da puta!" He would show her what it meant to be a whore! He would have her before she died, hopefully along with her friends...

He knew that others dwelt there, too, two men who had shot a rattlebox fire-stick and killed many of his fellows. But the whites now presumably all slept. It was past midnight, and the four whom he had pursued would all be exhausted. He was tired himself, but vengeance would provide him with reason and strength enough to continue until he had slain these devils!

X XX

Finn did not know what woke her, but she had slept just enough to be restless. She tossed and turned, careful not to wake Challenger, who was also very tired. She realized with a flash of sympathy how much he must have worried while he had had to wait for Roxton and Veronica to bring her home. She knew George well now, and sensed the depth of his emotions, although he often tried to seem unflustered, lest he lose his upper class British composure. But she knew that he loved her more deeply than he had ever expected to care for another human being, and her heart swelled with joy at the thought.

She rolled over to the right and smoothed his hair, pulling the sheet over him as she realized that the night had turned cool.

Finn decided that what she needed was a slice of bread and a glass of limeade. There was a pitcher of the latter in the refrigerator that her man had so cleverly devised, and Finn decided to pour a glassful.

She swung her long, shapely legs over the side of the bed. She was nude, for she had anticipated having sex with Challenger. But she had been so weary that they had postponed it, as had the Roxtons. This had disappointed her, for she was delirious with delight over having survived. She had wanted to buck in ecstasy beneath her man, exultant in her living and having returned to safety. But her drained body would not sustain her spirit, and she had slept. Challenger had been wonderful about it, telling her to rest, and that tomorrow, they could do all that she wished to experience in bed, other than sleep. Tonight, sleep was triumphant.

Finn thought briefly on who might be up. She knew that Vee was entertaining Ned Malone, and that the Roxtons were either asleep or so busy with one another that no one would venture to the kitchen on the floor beneath. She stumbled half asleep to the dresser and fumbled in her lingerie drawer for something that would please Challenger when he saw her in it the next dawn. She settled on a pair of bikini panties in a dark, almost indigo, blue. They were favorites, sewn for her by Marguerite just a month before, and she knew that she looked really good in them. She shivered with the anticipation of George seeing her in them as she "innocently" wandered around the room, while his eyes followed. She licked her lips as she fancied him removing them, leaving her body open for his full access. He never failed to praise her beauty, and she never failed to thrill to him doing so. In truth, Finn was a little vain, but she also craved male adoration because she was a bit insecure. A childhood like hers had been did that to someone, far too often.

She slipped on the panties, and slid her feet into sandals, and crept to the door. Sticking her head out, she heard nothing from John and Marguerite's room, and the Victrola was still playing Arabic music down the hall in Vee and Ned's room.

Finn smiled as she imagined how happy Ned must be watching Veronica dance. She must be in terrific shape to have the energy for it, for she, too, had been pursued by the Xingu, if not for nearly as far as she and Marguerite had been.

Shaking her head in surprised admiration for the Malones, Finn started downstairs, already almost tasting the sweetened limeade. She went quietly, lest she wake Challenger, who needed his rest.

XXX

Changa had managed at great risk to part the electric fence that he had seen fry several of his men, and slipped through. He had evaded the Zanga camped nearby, for they thought that all of the Xingu were long gone.

He looked at the shaft of his spear, surprised to see that the wood had not been burned by the devil fence as he held it open with the spear. . But he knew that he could not carry the spear up the tree.

He hid it under some brush and began his ascent of the tree, his long toes helping him as he crept up. From there, he went a precarious path to the Treehouse. He cast a loop of rope around the trunk and inched up, easing the rope ahead of him to brace himself. Eventually, he was able to reach a balcony of the Treehouse and eased himself onto it. Changa would have made a good cat burglar in more refined society, and he was driven by a combination of lust, hatred, and pride. He had the skills of an acrobat or circus performer; a remarkable climber.

Looking down, he eased himself onto the veranda of the floor that held the kitchen and the big living room. Pushing aside the bamboo curtain, he crept into the room beyond.

He was walking around in the dark, trying to see by the light of the full moon what was there. Then, he saw the candle!

Finn had lit a candle to see her way down the stairs and to see in the kitchen, for she didn't want to turn on the lights and disturb anyone.

Changa started and hid behind a large couch. He saw the blonde woman and knew that this was she who had troubled him so much. He hated her, yet desired her so much that he was astounded by the power of his lust, as tired as he was. She was beautiful in the brief panties in that lovely color, a darker blue than even the hyacinth macaw sported.

He watched Finn stumble into the kitchen. Then, she doused the candle and switched on the electric light. The one in the kitchen wouldn't disturb anyone, and she wanted more light than the candle would give. She poured the drink and got a slice of bread and took it out to the dining table. Sitting in the chair usually occupied by her friend Veronica, she had ample light.

Changa waited until she went into the kitchen, then went quickly across the floor and prepared to seize her. He was armed only with his knife, for he had had to have his hands free as he climbed. He had paused at seeing the electric light come on, for he had never seen such a thing, and again suspected witchcraft. But the blonde brasileira did not seem frightened by the light; indeed took it for granted. This emboldened Changa.

Finn went to the refrigerator for some ice cubes, and was on her way back to the table when she saw Changa in the shadows. She threw the ice cubes at Changa and tried to run to the kitchen for a knife.

XXX

Challenger reached for Finn and gradually registered that she was no longer in bed. He sat up, looked around, and decided to find her. If she had gone to the bathroom, she would be back by the time that he had donned his robe and looked for her in the hall.

He saw the kitchen light come on, and realized where she must be. He decided to go to her, glad to see the light. At least, she was not sitting down there crying in the dark.

He was halfway down the stairs when Changa grabbed Finn. She tried to scream, but he covered her mouth with his hand, and was twisting one arm behind her. He had rope to bind her.

Finn snapped her head back, ramming it into Changa's face. He yelped and eased his grip for a fraction of a moment, and she twisted free.

"Xingu!" she screamed. "Get a gun! George! Johnny!"

Challenger had just reached the bottom of the stairs when he heard her yell and in a few steps, he saw what was happening.

Seething with rage, Challenger crossed the remaining distance in a few strides of his long legs.

Finn saw him coming and redoubled her efforts. Changa tried to hold her, and she swerved and slammed an elbow into his stomach. Then, she was out of the way, and Challenger was reaching for Changa. Finn screamed again for Roxton to bring a gun.

Changa saw the big, ginger-bearded man and knew in his gut that this was the man of the blonde woman, or her father. His rage was too personal for anything else. He brandished the knife and shouted a war cry, then slashed at Challenger.

Challenger flinched and the stroke partially missed, but he got a nasty slice on his arm. He howled in rage and pain and grabbed the Indian's knife arm and spun him around and smashed his head into the wall.

He struck Changa with the full force of his powerful right arm, the fist smashing bone as it impacted his foe's face. (Real fights differ from what is deemd to be "good TV".)

Changa slumped and Challenger lifted him bodily, walked quickly across the room, and forcefully threw him out the window.

There was a sickening crunch as Changa bounced off a branch, then his mournful wail followed his body all the way to the ground, where there was a thud that left little doubt that he was finished troubling the Treehouse dwellers.

Roxton heard the noise, and rolled out of bed, He grabbed his Colt .45 automatic from the nightstand, and shook Marguerite awake.

"Get your revolver and hide behind the bed. Finn is shouting that there are Xingu inside our home!"

He ran out of his room in a robe, embarrassed, but afraid that if he stopped to dress, someone might be killed.

In the living room, Challenger switched on the lights and strode to the rifle rack. Picking up Finn's Winchester, he tossed it to her and took down his .275 Rigby.

Looking up at Roxton, the scientist motioned him to come down, and the three searched the Treehouse. Marguerite interrupted the Malones at a tender moment, and they hastily threw on some clothes and joined the search.

Finally satisfied that all was well, Challenger latched the curtain more securely and swore that he would devise a swinging gate with wooden bars that could be closed across the window at night. "We should have done that long ago," he declared. "It is a wonder that a jaguar or some other dangerous, gile, intruder has not visited us already."

Veronica called out to the Zanga on the ground, and they also searched the area. Embarrassed by her near nudity, Finn took time to don a robe and get her .38.

Finally, satisfied that Changa was dead and that no more of his kind were near, the Treehouse crew held a brief conference. Finn made a point of getting her drink and bread before the conference ended. Challenger smiled at her composure after her ordeal. She could be single-minded if she wanted something, and she wanted that glass of limeade! The freshly-baked bread from that day also appealed to her. In fact, baking bread was among her favorite aromas. She was glad that Veronica had baked that day, before needing to come after her friends.

Roxton and Marguerite boiled water and dressed Challenger's wound, using some of his antibiotic salve on it before bandaging it. The slice was deep, but the bleeding had helped to wash out infection. They removed some cotton from his robe that was left in the wound, and it looked clean, if bloody. The left sleeve of the robe was caked in drying blood, infuriating Challenger, as it was his favorite robe!

Upstairs, Finn brushed her teeth again and came back to bed, the other couples also going to their respective rooms. Finn cuddled next to Challenger and hugged him. "My hero!" she teased, playing with his hair. "George, you were just in time. That guy would have had me soon. He was fast and incredibly strong and I was pretty well trapped in that corner. I thought that I had had it! Thank goodness you heard me, but how did you get there so fast? I had barely yelled when you were there!"

He explained that he was on the way down to be sure that she was well, and that her scream had reached him as he was mostly down the stairs.

"So, you were already looking for me, Genius? You worried that I might be upset or something?"

"Certainly. My dear, when I sense that you are sad, I am sad, and I will help all that I can. Are you well now, apart from exhaustion?"

"Yes, as well as I'll be for awhile. I'll heal, with your help and Marguerite's and Vee's. George, are YOU okay? You were fretting about not having come to my aid earlier. Now, you did save me from one of those creeps. Is your fragile male ego restored by that? I want you to know that, to me, you were never at fault. Manning that machine gun then was a real help in keeping them off of us until we were safe."

"By Jove, I suppose that I do feel better inside. Darling, let us sleep. Tomorrow, we will get all of this into perspective, and restore our lives to normal." He kissed her and she snuggled in front of him, pressed along the length of his body, reaching back to caress his leg. He held her, and they slept.

XXX

Dawn came, with orange and yellow hues giving way to a cloudless blue sky as the sun rose to full tropical majesty.

In the Treehouse, no one stirred until eight o'clock, which was a bit late for the Malones. They were usually the first couple up, making breakfast for the others.

Today, Ned looked at his watch and went back to sleep. It was seven then, and he wasn't about to stir until he had to. The previous night had been stressful for all of them.

Eventually, his woman reached for his wrist, lifted it, and noted the time. "Ned," she urged, nudging him with an elbow. "Hey, Studly, we need to rise and shine."

"I can't shine," he mumbled back. "My batteries are burned out. I need time to recharge."

Veronica was feeling much better than she had the previous evening, and she was joyous that she had survived the episode with the headhunters. Feeling mischievous, she decided to have a little fun with her mate.

"I bet that I can wake you, Ned," she dared. She nibbled at his ear, and he stirred, but barely.

Veronica loved a challenge. She flipped off the sheet, rolled Ned onto his back, and knelt between his legs, lowering her head to address herself to his arousal. Ned had once called this "lip service", and his crude joke had stayed with her. She knew that he, like most men, craved this oral action, and she had giggled with Finn, who had coached her in the techniques most likely to drive a man wild during this procedure. The girls had practiced on bananas, Finn showing her pal Vee what she had learned along this line. She had encouraged the more shy Veronica to try on Ned what she had learned, and he had been delighted with her talent.

Now, she provided him with her most imaginative efforts and subtle skills, and Ned was unable to hold out for long. He moaned in pleasure, let her continue for another moment, then took her hair and pulled her up to his lips. They kissed, slowly, then with growing passion. His hands roamed her body, and Veronica sighed in ecstasy, now as aroused as he was.

She eased her hips forward, rose and settled herself onto his rigid manhood. She rode him while maintaining a liplock on him, swiveling her loins slightly to maximize the effect on both of them. He held her bottom, caressing it, and then hugging her to him, playing then with her hair and neck.

Veronica moaned with wanton lust, now entrapped by her own game. She was as excited or more so than Ned, and the joke was no longer on him. He sensed this and laughed, a triumphant sound, and one that amused both. He whispered in her ear how much he loved her and she renewed her efforts to please him and moaned again, a sound that excited Ned more than fireworks and a parade on the Fourth of July. Soon, on her back, she grabbed handfuls of the sheet, kneading it in her grasp as she writhed in heat as he thrust into her.

Ned Malone was not John Roxton, but he was rapidly learning his way around a woman. He was helped by Veronica's suggestions as to what appealed to her and by some sly counsel from his friend Roxton, who knew how to manipulate women as skillfully as an ace pilot maneuvers his aircraft in high tech aerobatics. Veronica was learning what it meant to be a maid in the hands of a man who knows what he is doing, and who makes her glad of it. She felt both empowered and totally helpless.

And she loved it!

Veronica's thoughts flashed back to the only other man whom she had known this fully, a crazed pianist named DuCart. At the time, she had been infatuated with him and with the idea of falling in love. He had made her heart race and she had lost reason. She had been thrilled then. Now, she knew that he had paid her relatively little attention, seeking mainly his own gratification. Fortunately, she had recovered from this experience with little emotional damage and no diseases.

Compared to Ned, DuCart was lethargic and mechanical. And he was much less attuned to setting her on fire, making her scream with pleasure, begging with her body for more. As her experience and her love for Ned grew, she had found new heights of delight in bed, and this morning was one of the best episodes that the young couple had known.

She knew that she was approaching climax and was about to ask Ned to finish her on her back when he leaned over her and asked whether she would like that. "Oh, yes, Ned, but hurry. I am on fire! What you do to me!"

He chuckled as she swung up her legs around his waist. They ground into one another.

"I've got you now, Mr. Malone, and I may never let go if you can keep this up!"

"Well, I warned you what would happen if you wore that little loincloth and danced for me," he gasped. "You doing that is like flipping the switch to the electricity. It turns me on, real fast. Anytime you want attention, you know now how to get it. Want to finish? For this time? I can offer more in a few minutes, especially if you let me play a record while you move to that music again!"

"Maybe later," she offered. "Like in about twenty minutes, if I can get my breath back enough to dance then. You can lie there and watch while I have to wiggle for you."

"Baby, it takes serious energy to stare at you as hard as I do when you do that. I'm not just lying here like a log. And now, Mrs. Malone, let's see if you like this!"

He moved with precision and rhythm, holding her hands down beside her head, leaning over to tease her lips with fluttering tongue and nipping lips. She groaned and moved beneath him in animal abandon, speechless now as he showed her what she had hoped that he might manage.

"Oh, NEEDDD!" she managed and bucked in orgasm. It was intensified by his having called her, "Mrs. Malone". It excited her all the more that he thought of them as married in all but ceremony, and she felt so totally his that it erased the insecurity that she had known since her father's death and her mother's disappearance. She belonged to someone else again, and before too long, she would begin a family with him. She closed her eyes and gave herself up to the spasms that he had caused to explode in her, riding him as she wondered whether she would pass out from joy and intense physical arousal.

XXX

Next door, Marguerite Krux stirred and kissed Lord John Roxton. She cuddled closer and nibbled at his ear and neck. But they only hugged and talked and ran their hands over one another in morning greeting.

"Mind if I take the morning off from sex for the moment?" she asked. "I want us to go on a picnic and bring a blanket and you can ravish me after you devour lunch. I need to walk around here and work out some kinks before we do anything heavy duty. I still ache from running for my life for two days."

Roxton smiled. "I've never noticed that walking around worked out any kinks for you. You've always been as kinky in bed as I'd ever want. At least as much..."

"Very funny, Lord Roxton! Anyway, just feel me up enough to make me know how appreciated I am and I will promise you wild revels later. If you are lucky, I will then rise and make your breakfast. If you are even luckier, Veronica is already in the kitchen, and SHE will make your breakfast. And mine. It'll taste better. But surely you will acknowledge me as having managed to achieve Journeyman rating as kitchen slave?"

Roxton laughed. "You haven't poisoned me. Yet. And, yes, you have managed to rise above the raw Apprentice level. I've kept down whatever you have put in front of me, so far. Sometimes, I think that there is real hope for you. I may be able to dismiss the cook on our return to Avebury. Or, let her work part-time hours."

"John! Don't you dare fire the cook! I'll labor in that kitchen in this tropical hellhole, but I expect to be treated like a lady when we reach England!"

He held a breast in his hand and manipulated the nipple while nuzzling the side of her neck. "Is that what you want to be treated like, Marguerite? Wouldn't you rather be treated like this?" He chuckled as she growled in pleasure.

"Well, maybe a fallen lady," she conceded. "And, on that note, John, I have so totally fallen for you that I will sometimes give the help the afternoon off and cook for you. I have never made that offer to another man."

"And I suppose that many a man has sighed in relief that you haven't," he countered, and laughed as she struck him with a pillow, both howling in laughter.

"I think that I had better run down the hall for a moment," she noted.

Rising, she pulled on a short dressing gown and let herself out the door. She ran quickly to the ladies' room without particularly registering any noises. But as she sauntered back to her room, she passed the door of the Malones' room and heard noises from within that made it abundantly clear that Ned and Veronica had yet to reach the kitchen.

Marguerite listened briefly, and she grinned wickedly. I can think of ways to tease Veronica until she blushes scarlet over this, she thought. That doesn't work with Finn, who just grins and looks triumphant and satisfied and asks if I need any advice. As if that snippet of a girl could teach ME anything. But her pal Vee is much easier to embarrass...

She walked back to the bed and tossed Roxton his clothes. "Up with you, John," she demanded. "Judging from the moans and groans and feminine sighs that I just heard coming from Veronica's and Ned's room, I think that we must make our own morning repast."

He sat up, and she looked with pleasure at his exposed body. She had twitted him for his midnight run in the virtual altogether as Finn had screamed for help, and had taken him his trousers before he had helped to search the Treehouse for intruders. Now, she smiled with pleasure as she beheld his prowess, his arousal half evident, even though he wasn't anticipating any action until later in the day.

"What about George and Finn?" he wanted to know. "Aren't they in the kitchen yet?"

"No, it's quiet down there. No lights and their door is still shut."

Roxton dressed, a concerned look now on his face. "I'm worried about that knife slash that George got," he admitted. "It looked pretty ugly. I'm glad that you sewed it up so well, but infection is always a danger in this climate."

"Well, if they don't show by the time that I have eggs and ham cooked, you can rouse them and be sure that he's okay, as Ned says. How the Americans managed to get 'all right' from that term boggles the mind."

"It has to do with some Presidential candidate there coming from some place called Old Kinderhook. He abbreviated that as 'O.K.', and said that O.K. was all right, and it sort of got corrupted to mean that okay was all right. I asked Ned. He said that few know that any longer. It was back in the 1880's, I think. " Roxton shrugged at this logic.

"Well, aren't you the wizard today?" she razzed. "Come on, finish dressing and escort me to my fate as kitchen slattern. I'll do my best not to poison you, if you'll praise my coffee."

"Very well: you can be kitchen slattern, and Finn can be the serving wench when she gets down there. I will happily sit at the head of the table and the pair of you can wait on me. Being a lord has its compensations."

"Oh, funny man! Anyway, Finn is already serving wench to her own lord. George is such a lucky fellow, and he genuinely tries to be worthy of her adoration. It really hurt him that he couldn't go to her rescue. As awful as that event was last night, I am glad for his sake that he got to redeem himself in her eyes and his own, by killing that impudent savage who made his way into our humble abode. He needed that, and she did, too, on a lesser level. She liked being saved by him, and he loved saving her."

"What am I then, chopped meat? Did I not save you, Madam? I did that rather well, I thought."

She smiled. "You did at that, John, and later today, when we are alone, I will show you just how I treat my hero. You will enjoy the experience, I fancy."

He tucked in the shirt that she handed him and pulled her to him. They kissed and held hands as they made their way down to the kitchen, going quietly so as to not disturb the Challengers. As they went down the hall, Roxton's eyebrows arched as Veronica giggled and then squealed. He heard the skirl of Arabic music from the Malones' room and looked inquiringly at his woman.

She shrugged. "You men tend to like those dances, Ned being one of the most enthusiastic. Apparently, Veronica is entertaining him so that he will entertain her as well as he was a little while ago. I promise you, she was enjoying that! I doubt that they will be down for breakfast anytime soon."

He leaned over and kissed her neck. "I daresay that they are having rather a lot of fun. Just think of the strain it would be on Ned's heart if she could dance half as well as you do."

"Why, thank you John. That was very sweet of you. But your heart seems able to stand the strain of watching me. You even seem to enjoy it, a good deal, I might add." She flushed a little, remembering how he had looked at her the last time that she had moved for his eyes on the dance floor. It had made her feel intensely female, and very desired.

"Yes," he admitted. "But then, I have a great heart that will withstand much excitement. Right now, I am excited about breakfast, and that you are making it for me. Want help? If you don't let it get around that I helped, lest it ruin my masculine reputation, I will assist you in getting things ready before I disturb George and Finn."

Marguerite hugged him and they went hand-in-hand downstairs, to where the kitchen and their uncooked breakfasts awaited.

XXX

In the Challengers' room, the couple woke to a mixed reaction. Finn nudged George, who sat up abruptly, wincing as he put some of his weight on the injured arm.

Finn noticed, and held a hand to his brow, checking his temperature. "How do you feel, Genius?"

"I'm all right, Darling. A bit parched. I think I will go down to breakfast soon. Are you especially desirous of being ravished first?" He smiled at her, trailing a hand down her bare back.

She slid into his arms, and they kissed.

"I'm not all that horny, if that's what you mean," she commented frankly. There were almost no secrets between these two, the sole exceptions being confidences that Finn had promised Marguerite to keep between the two women.

"Then, let us just cuddle and kiss for a few moments, then go down to breakfast. I marvel that Veronica has not had Ned pound on our door by now." He consulted his pocket watch, kept by the Colt .45 revolver on his nightstand by their bed.

"What time is it, Genius?""

"A bit past eight. We have been left alone for longer than usual."

"Vee was pretty exhausted by all of that running and fighting yesterday," Finn noted. "I'm still half bushed, myself. I'll feel better after I eat and move around some. And I think Ned had her up late after you killed that Indian bastard. He wanted her to dance for him, and that tends to lead to other things when they're alone." She snickered. "I bet they're still asleep."

Challenger chuckled. "I daresay that you may be right, Darling. Well, let us rise and dress and see what fare awaits us in the kitchen. If Marguerite is there, will you cook my own breakfast? It will taste better than if she does, but try to be diplomatic with her. Her kitchen confidence is still a trifle shaky, and I wouldn't want to discourage her."

She took his hand and leaned in and kissed his lips. "Sure, Genius. She won't think anything of it, if I insist on taking care of you. She's used to it, and only teases me about being your personal slave just a few times a week now. I think she's jealous that two people can care as much about one another as we do. I try not to say much about us having the Love of the Ages anymore. She thinks it's a reflection on her and Johnny if I say that I love you more than she does him."

"You may not love me more; you just love me as much as a mortal woman can love her man. And you express that love more actively than she does, although I'm certain that she cares very much for John, also." He played with her hair, looking into her blue eyes, seeing the depth of eternal love there, and transmitting the same with his own eyes.

"Yeah, but Johnny is just the ultimate man. You're a god, George. So, I get to worship you more than she does him!" She flashed her urchin grin, and the warmth of her gaze touched Challenger from his heart to his toes.

How fortunate I am to have acquired this girl and what she means to me, he reflected. I must be the luckiest man alive, certainly in this century.

"Don't blaspheme, Finn. I claim no immortality, although our love may well be immortal. Perhaps we shall resume it in Heaven after we each pass on to our Lord's house there." He smiled and caressed her shoulder to take any sting from his words. But George Challenger knew that there was a greater god than Science, and he was shocked that she would compare him to the Deity. He knew that she meant more of a god in the ancient Greek context, but was still uncomfortable with the comparison. He was already uneasy about how their adultery was seen in Heaven; for he did not yet know that has wife in Britain had already died of influenza, in the winter of 1921. He dreaded the confrontation that must occur when he returned to England and announced that he wanted a divorce, to enable him to marry Finn.

"Okay, Big Guy. I'll get dressed; Stay there while I show you some things that I'm thinking of wearing today. I don't want to just wear my usual black outfit. And I want to stay around here, too. I'm too tired to get out much. That chase left me and Marguerite both pretty washed out. I still can't believe that it ended just yesterday and that we're both still alive. Marguerite was more scared than if she'd thought that we might run out of coffee!" She laughed at this thought, and he joined her, marveling at her recovery. From hunted woman and grim killer of the day before, she was now his loving charmer, and making jokes about her terrifying experience. And that did sound like a prime dread on Marguerite's part...

XXX

Finn walked over to a pitcher on a table near the window and brought Challenger a glass of water. She did this partly because he had said that he was thirsty, and partly to let him see her sensual saunter as she went to and from the pitcher. She put a subtle swing and sway into her gait, knowing how good she looked in those dark blue panties, pretending that she didn't notice the way that his admiring eyes followed her.

Actually, Finn needed to give very little conscious thought to her pace, for she was naturally one of those women whose walk made men stare and sigh with pleasure. She had used this to her and Marguerite's benefit when Avery Burton had held them in his slave quarters, and it had let her bargain for better treatment for them. Burton had hated Marguerite in particular. She was the sole rival to have beaten him in the past, and only Finn's distracting his lusts had prevented him taking out his anger on the other woman more than he had. (See, "A Night in the Lost World.")

She went now to the closet, looking for dresses that would let her wear the dark panties without them showing through. She found a white sun dress that she knew that she looked so good in that she half considered changing panties, just to wear it for him.

In the end, she held up several dark dresses and they selected a short navy blue slip dress that was rather sexy for day wear, but which he said that he wanted to have her in that day.

"I can't wear a bra with this," she warned. "Did you want me in one? I could always take the bra off for you later, the way that you like to see me do it. Where I reach back with both hands, and sort of bend one leg? And Vee and Marguerite may make smart alec jabs if they see me in this when we aren't having a party, at night. Sure that this is it?"

"Yes, Darling. I agree with what you have said, but only we here in the Treehouse will see you, and I think that you are so lovely in it that it is our choice, if you are to wear those new knickers. And I want to see you in them later, after we find some time to ourselves up here later today. You have no idea of how delectable you look in them, and just sandals. Most women would kill to achieve that look. And you are my woman. I am greatly blessed in having you for my mate."

She grinned. "I like that 'mate' stuff, George. Makes me feel like you're Tarzan, talking about Jane as your 'mate' in those books that Vee's parents and Ned brought."

She walked over and let him see her close up as she moved in a seductive little dance before donning the dress. She knew how to achieve a subtle wiggle that ignited a man's lust as surely as if she had touched a match to spilled gasoline.

"Don't dance like that if you want me able to go down to breakfast without pulling you into this bed first," he warned. "Do that again later and I guarantee that you will find yourself ravished, for I cannot control my desire if you do this when we have more time."

She laughed softly, and ran a hand over his hair. "Okay, George. I'll take a rain check on being ravished. It'll give me something to look forward to this afternoon. I'm sure not working in the garden today. After what I've been through, I think Vee. will let me off the hook about that." She pulled on the dress, feeling good about the way that he noticed every detail of the procedure. She made sure to squirm a little and adjust the dress once it was on, and this also didn't escape his admiration of her.

She even moved her shoulders back, knowing that her nipples would show a little through the tight fabric. Ohmigosh, Vee and Marguerite are so going to razz me for wearing this, she thought, and decided to let Challenger reply to them. It would please her to hear him defend her, and they would understand if they knew that the dress was his choice. Later, she would take the other women aside and apologize for being so daring in her choice of costume that early, and on a day when no party was planned. They knew how much she strived to please her man, whom she saw as an icon, not just her fiancé. They would make a few barbed remarks, but would understand. Anyway, by this afternoon, she hoped to spend a few hours up here again, the dress off. She could wear her black shorts outfit after, when they went back downstairs. In the meantime, if seeing her in this dress was what her man wanted, it was what he would get!

Finn brought over his clothes and watched as he dressed, the couple talking about things they needed to accomplish in the lab and elsewhere. He told her that he wanted his eggs scrambled that morning, and she nodded.

At last, they went downstairs. They heard the Roxtons in the kitchen, that couple having arrived there just a few minutes prior. Finn noticed that George was favoring his wounded arm, and determined to make him remove the dressing so that she and Roxton could check the injury after they had eaten. Infection was always a grave risk in this part of the world, and she was concerned that George heal safely and soon.

XXX

Morning, George, "said Roxton, making coffee."I hope that you and your lady will trust Marguerite and me to make breakfast? The Malones seem to be late risers today." He looked at Finn in some surprise, but did no more than raise an appreciative eyebrow when Challenger's attention was on the stove. Finn grinned at him, blushing.

Marguerite was more direct. "Are all of your usual black outfits dirty, Nicole? That's quite a fashion statement for this early in the day. Are we celebrating something?" Her eyebrows were arched too, but not altogether in amusement, let alone admiration.

"Leave the girl alone, Marguerite," Challenger commanded. "Finn went through her dresses looking for something other than the usual, to help her feel better after what she and you have been through. In fact, is it my fault that she wore this. My arm hurts like the devil, and she may take my mind off of it. Have you murdered the eggs yet? I should like three, scrambled. Actually, if you have cooked enough for you and John, Finn will prepare mine while one of us makes toast. It looks as if John has about got the coffee issue in hand." He smiled wanly, and Marguerite realized that he was in some pain, probably more than he was acknowledging.

"Sit down at the table, Genius," said Finn. "We'll get everything out to you. Johnny, why don't you join him? Marguerite and I can do everything in here by ourselves, and you men saved our necks yesterday. The least that we can do is to make your breakfasts."

"Sounds like a splendid offer, Finn. George, pour a cup and let's' go sit. How is that arm faring?" He looked at Challenger with some concern, having seen the wound as it was cleaned and stitched the night before.

The men adjourned to the table and Marguerite addressed Finn. "Sweetie, you want to be careful about offering our services to the men. They'll come to depend on that. It's the way of their kind. Not that I don't feel increasingly fulfilled by waiting on that man Roxton. He sort of brings that out in a girl. Now, give, Nicole: why the sexy dress at this hour? What am I missing?"

"It's mostly your fault, Marguerite." Finn was determined to play this game if the other woman was.

"How exactly is it my fault that you have shown up for breakfast in a dress more suited for a cocktail party? One that makes it obvious that you haven't got a bra on and that your frontal equipment twitches nicely when you walk? When I have I ever come down to the table at this hour, dressed like that?"

So, Finn explained about the need for a dark color because she was so fond of the indigo panties that Marguerite had made for her and didn't want them to show through a more discreet dress. "In the end, George picked this one, and I agreed to wear it to humor him. His arm hurts more than he lets on, Marguerite. After we eat, you need to help me get that bandage off and we'll see what the cut looks like." Finn was clearly worried, and Marguerite saw that she should shut up about the dress.

"Of course, Darling. I'll use my ever tactful and charming social skills to get him to agree. Does he have fever?"

"Some. Not bad yet, but enough to tell. And he's crankier than usual. He's been polite, but I can see his expressions. I think he hurts." She looked anxious, and Marguerite was sorry that she had been catty.

"Well, let's get him fed, and then we'll see what needs doing. You'd better cook, unless you're afraid of getting grease spattered on that dress. I didn't sew it to have you cook in it. Look: why don't I cook while you stand back just enough to be out of range of any spattering, and you can coach me. I don't want to dry out the eggs like I did last time."

Finn thanked her and agreed to coach." First, turn down the heat. Let eggs cook slower. They're better and not as dry and tough. And take them up a little sooner, as long as they're cooked through. Marguerite, I am sorry about the dress. But you should have seen his face when I held it up. I didn't want to say no to him."

Marguerite squeezed her shoulder. "Love does that to us, Finn. Makes fools of us as we strive to cater to those whose approval we want. I know how you feel about George. I should have guessed. Only a man would think of wearing an outfit like this under these conditions. At least, he has moved beyond the day when he chided you for wearing dresses that he thought were undergarments." She muffled a laugh. "I quite like them, myself. But we all know that I'm a fallen woman, so my opinion didn't carry too much weight with him. I suppose that time has mellowed him, and his love for you. Plus, most men cannot resist seeing a woman in such things when they can. You do look quite pretty, Finny. How much butter should I use?"

And so it went, and breakfast was soon served. Marguerite had even cooked the eggs right, and glowed when told so by everyone else. She outright blushed when Roxton hugged her and congratulated her. Finn heard no more about her dress.

Peccary/javelina ham and bacon were served with the eggs, and whole wheat toast was there, made from wheat in a nearby field, and planted long ago by the Layton expedition. Challenger's electric toaster was praised, and the injured scientist smiled at the accolades from his friends.

Marmalade or jam was made from local fruits, for Veronica had perfected a procedure for this from her mother's cookbooks. In all, breakfast was one of the better meals of the day, where the surrogate family gathered and shared their thoughts and plans. It was a bonding experience that they loved.

In time, the Malones came downstairs, dressed as usual. They were holding hands, and when they saw everyone else looking at them, they blushed, for they were certain that all had guessed the reason for their tardy appearance.

"Hi, Vee, Ned," said Finn, trying to keep a straight face. She failed, and laughed. "Everything 'satisfactory' with you guys?"

"Just let it be," snapped Ned. "We are not usually the last ones here. We were just really tired from all that happened yesterday."

Roxton just managed to avoid laughing. He looked down at his food, hoping that Ned hadn't seen him almost share in Finn's laughter.

Marguerite slapped him on the hand, trying to suppress a smile of her own. They looked at one another and grinned.

Challenger smiled, and suggested that they get a cup of coffee and make a new pot. "There are ample eggs and meat and fruit left, and we are happy to see you. Please ignore the smiles of my adolescent companions." But he, too, was smiling. Then, he struck his arm lightly on Finn's chair as he reached over to put an arm on her shoulder, and Veronica noticed him wince.

She was at once concerned. "George, how is that arm? Does it hurt?"

"I'll live," replied the genius scientist. "For a time I may wish that I hadn't, if this doesn't get better. I shall have to have a dose of my analgesic medicine this morning, I daresay. But eat, and let us all catch up on our plans. And I hope that you and Ned slept well...eventually?" He was now unable to avoid a grin of his own.

Finn nudged his ribs with her elbow, but she was still smiling, too.

Veronica blushed scarlet, and took Ned's arm and led him into the kitchen, where she had him make more coffee as she began to prepare their breakfasts.

"Hypocrites, all of them," grumbled Ned. "We have done nothing that they don't. Why are they laughing at us?"

"We're not laughing," said Finn, walking into the kitchen. She kissed Ned's cheek, and then hugged Veronica. "We were a little worried about you two. We're just teasing, because you two are usually the most responsible couple here, and we know about Ned's wanting to see you dance, Vee We're guessing that that got your night off to a romantic start?"

"You could say that," the blonde beauty answered. "Neddy does like to see me in that silly loincloth. By the way, Finnykins, I recall making one of those for you. Have you worn it for George yet?" She raised her eyebrows as if to ask, why are you grinning at me if you do the same thing?

Finn's face lit up as she registered something. "No, Vee, not to dance in. I just modeled it for him a couple of times. It did get his attention. Hey: may I borrow the Victrola as soon as George's arm is well? Ned or Johnny can bring it up to my room while George is busy in the lab. I want to surprise him. Show me later what moves you used on Ned. It sure seems to appeal to men. George is going to get a surprise that he will remember, if I know him at all. Please? I won't play it very loud." She had a pleading look on her face that melted Veronica's pique.

"Sure, Finn. Just don't give George a heart attack. I've seen you dance, and I'm not going to be able to give you much help with that. You're already damned good. But I'll show you what I can and you can try to copy it, if you want. Ned can watch. It will make his day." She laughed, and even the grumpy Malone smiled.

"By the way, the Layton lass continued, "Why are you in that cocktail dress? Did I miss something that calls for it?"

Finn repeated her explanation, and Veronica shook her head, smiling. "Well, we do odd things for our men. Just stay away from the stove this morning. If you get grease on that dress, Marguerite will kill us. She worked really hard to make it."

"Sure, I'm cool with that. I just came to get George some more eggs as soon as some are ready, once you have what you need. Is the coffee ready?"

And she waited for the eggs and coffee, Veronica giving her the first eggs that she cooked, for Challenger's plate.

She went out to the table, and Veronica noticed Ned's expression. She said, "Giving Finn those eggs got her out of the kitchen, didn't it? Come here, Studly. I want a major kiss from you before I cook the next batch of food." And she drew Ned to her and got a liplock on him and they began making out so intensely that Ned's heart galloped. He loved this new, more relaxed Veronica, no longer shy about sex. Whatever they had done last night, she was still excited by the attention that she had received and wanted more of it.

The grease in the pan had begun to smoke as Marguerite walked in and loudly cleared her throat. The Malones sprang apart. Veronica made a point of paying attention to the stove. Malone had a silly grin on his face and Marguerite hid a smile as she filled Roxton's cup and her's and went out to the table again. She was very happy for Ned and Veronica. Love makes the whole world smile, and the Treehouse was a small world that rejoiced in the Malones' happiness this day.

When breakfast was finished, the Roxtons and the Malones cleared the dishes while Finn went to the lab for some wound dressings and set water to boil in the kitchen.

Then, Challenger shrugged off his shirt, grumping that everyone was making too much of a simple cut from some intrusive savage's knife. "The man was a fool. He should have shagged his murderous hide back to his miserable village, wherever that may be. Instead, he came here and threatened my woman, the love of my life, and the best lab assistant whom I have ever had. I could not allow Finn to be at any risk, and I dealt with him. I just got sliced a bit in the process, that's all."

Finn leaned over and kissed him. "You were so brave, Genius! I thought that I was done for until you arrived in the nick of time. You guys should have seen George! He went right after that Indian jerk, unarmed. He just barely dodged the force of that cut, or he would probably have lost the use of that arm. I saw how hard the Xingu struck at him. Come on, George, lets' get that bandage off and look at that cut in daylight."

They moved to the table by the veranda and opened the bamboo curtain to admit bright sunlight. Then, Finn and Roxton unwrapped the bandage and examined the wound.

Finn felt Challenger's brow and winced. "George, you're pretty feverish. And that cut doesn't look good at all." She examined it and she and Roxton exchanged looks. The slightly jagged-edged cut was reddish and inflamed, and there was pus forming in it.

"What?" demanded Veronica. "Let me see." She was not pleased by what she saw.

"George, we'd better signal for Xma'Klee to come. That looks red and angry and there is some pus there that has to go."

"Pshaw!" snorted Challenger. "I am damned if I need some jungle witch doctor, however much he may be above most of his kind, to treat me. We have other options. John, go get a bottle of red wine, something not the best that we have remaining. Galen, an ancient Roman physician, said that he used it to treat wounds on gladiators. Said that he never lost a patient whose wounds were survivable, provided that he washed out the injury with good red wine and packed the area with a wine-drenched bandage."

"Why not just use brandy, George? If it's the alcohol that matters, I have a small bottle of that which we can use. Saves getting into a bottle of wine that we can share at mealtime."

Challenger shook his head. "No, John. That would surely fight infection, but I have been looking at bacteria cultures in the lab and treating them with wine and with grape juice. Of course, our fine Bordeaux and Burgundy wines are more concentrated than grape juice, and the grapes here seem to be the American Concord variety, not those of France. How they got to this Plateau, God alone knows. But the juice does fight bacteria, if not as well as the wine. That kills the ability of the bacteria to reproduce, and my lab mice have recovered from injuries that should kill them after I treat their cuts with the wine. It has an antibacterial effect. I will describe it as antibiotic. Serves to kill off a sore throat before it can get really well established, too, I've found. We'll go into the kitchen and thoroughly rinse this wound with wine and pour some on the new bandage. By tomorrow, I should be much improved. Marguerite's splendid stitches look good, and will help me to heal.

"If it is not better by then, I will make a poultice of those leaves that Xma'Klee said will heal, and we'll try that. But I will not summon him in person until I know that I cannot deal with this on my own."

"Why, certainly, George; handle this yourself. Have you ever heard the saying about pride going before a fall?" Marguerite was clearly worried. "Of course, if your wine remedy doesn't work, we can just have Finnykins kiss it and make it all better!"

"Marguerite..." warned Veronica, who knew how Challenger would probably react to her sarcasm, especially if she suggested involving Finn in any way that he thought demeaning or likely to endanger her.

"It's okay, Vee," said Finn. "I will kiss him and if he gets better, it's scientific proof that I am a great healer." She fluffed Challenger's hair and kissed him. "There. That should take care of it. I don't have to kiss the actual cut. My kisses are very powerful: their influence ranges through his whole body." She grinned. "But we'll do the wine thing, too. Just in case." She looked pointedly at Marguerite, as if to say, don't make jokes about my man and his ideas when he hurts.

"I'm sorry, George, Nicole. But really, dare we risk not doing everything possible? George, you are beginning to look quite rough around the edges. Do you feel feverish?" Marguerite's cool hand explored his head and she announced that he did have fever.

And by the time that the wound had been cleaned as he specified, with Finn ensuring that the job was done to perfection, Challenger did feel faint. He decided to lie on a couch and talk to Roxton and Finn as they cleaned their guns on the veranda. Finn excused herself and went upstairs and came back down in her usual black shorts and cropped top outfit, but in sandals rather than her boots. She had her beloved Smith & Wesson .38 and some cleaning solvent and oil.

She and Roxton set up on the table where they had sat to see the injury, and as they cleaned guns, they chatted with Challenger. Roxton pretended to be casual, but listened carefully for any sign that their leader was growing worse.

Marguerite brought her .38 to Roxton to clean, then made lemonade and brought some out to the table. She made sure that Challenger drank a glass, telling him that he needed to drink lots of fluids, and rest. "The juice has Vitamin C in it, too, and that seems to help fight colds. Maybe it helps to heal a wound, too." She sat by him and held his hand at times, talking quietly until he slept.

Roxton smiled. "Good job, Marguerite. I always thought that you were too exciting to put a man to sleep, but I'm glad that you did, on this occasion. Best thing for him."

She smiled back. "Maybe I'm getting boring in my advanced age."

The guns cleaned- and they cleaned almost all of those kept outside the locked arms room - Finn and Roxton washed their hands and helped clean up the Treehouse, while the Malones worked in the garden. Marguerite did some sewing, including new lingerie and a dress for Veronica. She used Veronica's mother's sewing machine for most of the work, resorting to handsewing for only the refined lace trim. Her work was exquisite, as ever.

Then, lunch came and they ate at the main table, talking quietly, so as not to disturb Challenger. He finally woke as they were cleaning up and wanted to work in the lab.

They sat with him as he ate, then the Roxtons went hunting while Finn helped Challenger on a couple of projects. He soon tired, though, and she talked him into lying down on the couch near the windows in the main room, while Finn read. In time, she set aside her book and curled up next to him as he slept.

Veronica found them that way, asleep and intertwined, cuddled together. Challenger's fever seemed slightly less. Veronica smiled at the couple and the sweetness of their union. Finn had to be beside him even as he slept... They were so close... She tossed a sheet over them and led Ned up to their room.

"George and Finn are asleep and John and Marguerite are away, and I am all alone with you, Mr. Malone. What are you going to do about it? I'll do what you wish, but I am a shy young girl, and you will just have to explain to me about your wicked ways." She grinned, fluttered her eyelashes, and stood against him, rubbing noses.

He smiled back. "Who said that I have wicked ways, Princess?"

"You'd better have wicked ways, Buster. When was the last time that we had the place to ourselves, especially during the afternoon?"

"Um. You have a point, Sweetheart. I always said that you were smart for a blonde. Want a backrub for a start?"

"Sure. Let me get these clothes off, and your hands can work their magic on my weary muscles. We really need to get Challenger to invent some gardening machinery." She looked more serious. "Do you think that he'll be all right, Ned? I'd hate for him to lose an arm or worse, just because he's too proud and too stubborn to send for Xma'Klee."

"He'll be okay, Baby. If he takes a turn for the worse, Finn will be up here letting us know. He has the best nurse available, at least from an attitude standpoint. She loves him, and isn't going to let anything happen to him. Hand me your loincloth and lie down so I can take your boots." She had already tossed her top on a chair near the bed.

"Here." Veronica passed him the loincloth and clowned in sky blue panties and her boots, a hand on her hip, striking a glamour pose. "How do I look, Ned? Is this shade of blue good on me?"

"Veronica, you look really great, and I'm not saying that just to get you in the mood for fooling around or because I want you to bake a pie later. I mean it: there is just something about that shade of blue that is so innocent and pretty, like your blue party dress. You look so young and fresh it in those. I almost hate to take them off of you. But I will. I just wish that we had the place to ourselves for a whole day or so, and I'd insist that you wear just those and sandals the whole time when you were dressed...sort of. You are so beautiful..."

She looked fondly at him and held his face in both of her hands. "Oh, Ned, you really mean that, don't you?"

"Well, sure, I never make up compliments. With you, I just tell the truth."

She felt the heat of her blush as she responded to his sincere remarks, and lay down and raised her legs so that he could take her boots. "You just earned that pie, Ned. I'm just so sorry that we don't have apples here. I'll use blackberries. George likes those, too. Maybe if I bake blackberry pie, it will help him to feel better. His poor arm must hurt so much." She raised her hips. "Here, take these off, too. I like for you to do it. I don't mind undressing for you while you sit back and watch sometimes, but usually, I want you to take the last bits off of me. I feel more like I'm giving myself up to you or something. It feels a lot better than I'd realized it could. I like belonging to you, Ned. I'm just sorry that I was too stupid to see sooner that we could be so good together. I love you, Neddy." And she glowed as he slipped the panties off, grabbing him by the neck and kissing him before she rolled on her stomach and let him massage the kinks from her tired muscles.

"I love you, too, Baby. And you weren't stupid. We both just needed to sort out some things before we realized that we were meant for one another. But that day when you were led past where I was hiding in Xochilenque, on that leash, by those Tecamayan creeps, I suddenly knew that the time had come to make up my mind to get my ring on your finger, if I could. And I wasn't going to take 'no' for an answer, so it's a good thing that you said 'yes' when I had a chance to ask." (See, "The Crystal Skull".)

"Oooh, Neddy! So masterful!" she teased. "But I knew when you and Finn walked in to where they were holding me and I saw your face, that I was going to walk out of that room as your woman. I felt so scared and so thrilled and so like everything was finally coming together for us, and it was the most natural thing in the world for you to take my hand and lead me away, yours. My heart was beating a thousand times faster than usual, and it wasn't all because I was scared out of my mind that the Tecamaya were about to catch us again!"

He knelt beside her and kissed her. "If only you knew how lovely you looked in that wonderful little loincloth, tied that way, in that gilded cage, looking so happy when Finn and I stepped in and she shot that guard...Baby, you were like a dream to me. I was almost transfixed by that vision. I could barely move and do what had to be done. I just wanted to stand there and stare."

"I must have looked pretty good, " she conceded, "considering how long you waited to offer me your shirt until we could find my clothes again! We were several blocks away before you managed to think of that." She pouted.

"I was kind of busy, and I admit that I was gawking. I saw Finn smirking out of the corner of my eye. Veronica, I'm still gawking. Just roll over and face me and lie like that while I get my eyes really full of you, then we'd better do whatever we're going to do before George wakes up and Finn feels the need to run up here and tell us whether his fever has risen or dropped by one degree, either way."

Veronica laughed. "She is pretty solicitous of him. Okay, Ned. Look all you want. I love looking at you looking at me, especially that way. I feel like I was Finn on that pedestal that he has for her in their room. Like I was a goddess, or something. It's nice. And I know you mean it. That feels so good!"

"In a minute, something is going to feel even better, " he promised, reaching for her.

XXX

When the Roxtons returned three hours later and found the Malones baking a pie in the kitchen, they wondered what was so special about a pie, as nice as it was to have one...But Ned and Veronica seemed happier than they had been in weeks, and they kept touching one another, blushing and smiling. Finally, Marguerite led Roxton out as he was telling the story of how they had shot two fat agouti and found some nuts on the way home. She sat him down at the table, kissed him, and said that she would bring coffee out, but to let Ned and Veronica have the kitchen to themselves.

"You can tell them your hunting stories later, John. They have enough to concentrate on just now."

"Baking a pie is all that complicated?!" he protested.

"No, Darling. But they are. Baking that pie is the least of what's going on in there, and we need to be out here. Where you can practice looking at me like Ned is looking at her."

"Oh," said Roxton, a light coming on in his mind.

XXX

Challenger soon woke, feeling much improved. He took another dose of his "analgesic medicine", basically asprin, and one of his antibiotic pills, then they inspected his arm again.

"Wow, Genius, that looks a lot better," said a delighted Finn and kissed him. "You healed yourself, or will. I can't wait to tell Xma'Klee."

Challenger chuckled. "I don't know that I would do that, Finn. A physician hardly likes to be told that he wasn't essential. And Xma'Klee does fancy himself to be quite the thing in witch doctors. I feel sure that your kiss earlier was of much use, although I wouldn't go so far as to say that we demonstrated this via the scientific method. For one thing, we should have to show repeatable results. The kissing, I shouldn't mind, but being repeatedly cut to see if the kisses worked is not a pleasurable thing to contemplate."

She sat on his lap, hugging his neck. "George, I could just give you a few 'preventive kisses'. If you don't get cut again, we'll know that it worked." She was beaming, happy to see her man sitting up and making a joke.

The Roxtons and the Malones laughed, and Veronica told him about the pie. She knew how he felt about blackberry pies, and sure enough, his eyes lit up. "By Jove, that was nice of you, Veronica! I can hardly wait until dinner is past to taste it."

So, they finished getting dinner together and talked of their day. Roxton finally got to tell of his hunt and how excited Marguerite had been to find the nuts, as well as some herbs that they needed, plus the two prime rodents that they had shot. The dark, rich meat was a needed addition to their larder, and they looked forward to eating them over the next few days. Some of the meat could be kept in the refrigerator for a few more days. Tonight's repast was jungle fowl, similar to the same colorful Asiatic bird that had been bred to create the domestic chicken. Not native to South America, they were nonetheless on the Plateau, along with several species of pheasant. Challenger had quipped of them, "I can't explain them. I just eat them!"

That night passed better for the Challengers and the Roxtons than had the previous one, although George still favored his arm and nothing too acrobatic happened in their bed. Finn teased him about the wry showgirl's adage of a gentleman being a man who leaned on his elbows. He smiled. "Sorry to be so ungentlemanly tonight, Nicole, but you'll have to take a rain check. The arm is miles better than it was, but I dare not risk further damage as it seeks to heal."

"I'll do the work. Just lie back and let me get on top. After I manage what I need to, we can just cuddle." And so, she satisfied both of them. But each felt even better later, just lying in one another's arms, rejoicing that the wound was now clearly beginning to heal. This time, he slept on the outside, Finn to his rear when they were on their sides. But they went to sleep on their backs, so that he could put his arm around her and she could lay her head on his shoulder and tell him how good it felt.

CHAPTER TWELVE

The week went well, and Challenger continued to heal. Finally, the Roxtons and the Challengers went on a picnic. For some reason, the Malones insisted on staying in the Treehouse, saying that they had some things to catch up on doing...

XXX

Many miles away, the remaining Xingu warriors drifted in to their village. They came in twos and threes, and some were wounded, several carrying companions on litters.

Seven carried human heads to finish shrinking, the process having been begun on the trail, that their trophies not be spoiled in the tropical climate. One group led three naked Zanga girls on leashes, their hands tied behind them. One girl had been gagged, for she had screamed obscenities at them, wailing at the loss of her husband, whose head was among those taken. The others were too frightened to speak without permission.

These trophies and captives had all been taken in one last attack, on an outlying Zanga village not far from the trail which the Xingu used to leave the Plateau. With the exception of one woman and two children who had fled into the jungle, all of the inhabitants had been slain, or were now on their way to serve the Xingu as slaves. Some thirty of the Xingu had made this successful attack, and they were the largest group to return to their people.

They were led by a senior warrior named C'shish. He now made his report to their chief, who was dismayed to see what had become of the men whom he had dispatched to the Plateau. They had suffered the worst defeat in their history, and many women and children in their villages mourned the loss of a loved one.

C'shish now made his report. "Great One, we have returned, those of us who can. We left this place 386 strong, and we are now but 74. All others have perished. The Zanga ambushed us, and they have white friends who are bewitched. Some Zanga now have fire-sticks, and these whites did, also, of course. And they live in a place up in a huge tree, where they have another strange fire - stick that rattles when it speaks, like shaking a gourd with stones in it. We fought well, but our losses were many. " He looked crestfallen, for pride was involved, as well as his personal feelings for his companions. He had knowm most since childhood.

The chief scowled. "What is this that I hear of your having chased two devil women? They are said to have brought this misfortune on you."

C'shish hung his head. "Great One, it is so. One was dark-haired, and the other with yellow hair, like golden grass in the light of afternoon. They were lovely. One of our scouts saw them, and we thought it would be easy to take them, though we were warned that they had fire- sticks. We came upon them in the night, when they should have been sleeping, and would have been simple captures. But they caused a great blast that killed several men and wounded others. You have seen their injuries. They escaped and fled from us, as no ordinary women might. They killed some of us with their fire-sticks, and two others came and helped them. One of those was also a woman with golden hair, probably this Veronica of whom captives taken in previous raids have spoken. She fought like an Amazon, and a big dark-haired man was with her. He is a great warrior and they had friends in the Treehouse with more fire sticks, including the one that rattles when it speaks. It killed many warriors."

"I am told," said the chief, "that the first yellow-haired girl called insults to you, in Portuguese. She was Brazilian, not of the Plateau?"

"I think so," replied C'shish. "And the other whites also seemed not to be from the Plateau. They dressed strangely, and they had weapons not seen in that place."

An idea occurred to him. "Bring the captives. They will tell us who we have seen."

The three girls were led forward, and made to kneel, almost shoulder-to-shoulder. The insolent girl's gag was removed and they were given water. Their hands remained tied, and a warrior held each captive's leash.

"Tell us of the strange whites," C'shish commanded, as the chief leaned forward on his carved wooden throne, intent on hearing of these strange people who might be witches.

"We know them well," said the bravest girl, who was nonetheless shaking in fear as she spoke. She had no wish to be punished. "We go to our main village to trade and to visit relatives, and we have seen them there. They are guests of Veronica, who was raised by us and by the white Amazon women. The dark -haired woman is called Ma'Greet. She is some sort of sorceress among her kind, and she speaks many languages, and knows some medicine. All have tended to Zanga who were ill or injured, and they have great powers of medicine that amaze even the great shaman, Xma'Klee. The fair girl is the woman of their white shaman, who is called George Challenger. He has a ginger beard. They once went against the Tecamaya, who thought that he was a man called Pedro de Alvarado, who looked like him. Perhaps he is the returned ghost of that man. I do not know. But he says that he is not Spanish, but from a place called Angle Land.

"All of these whites are from there, except for one yellow-haired man named Malone, who is from some similar tribe. They are called A-Merkans or A- Murkans. I can't pronounce it, but he looks like those from Angle Land. The yellow -haired girl is from the Plateau, but a white Brazilian. She speaks both Portuguese and the language of these from Angle Land. She is the woman of their shaman. She is known as Woman Who Kills, for she has slain many warriors in fair battle. She slew one with her bare hands when they went against the Tecamaya! Our men and our youngest queen, Sa'eera, who went with them, speak of her with awe."

"Is this so?" demanded the chief of another kneeling Zanga girl. Under his gaze, she knelt more upright, moving her shoulders back and her breasts out. She looked down, though, in full submission. She was terrified, and she wished to please this man.

"Great One, it is so. This one is also called Woman Who Heals, for she is the white shaman's woman. She aids him with their powerful medicine. She helped to save a warrior who was mauled by a jaguar. It was thought that he would surely die, but the white shaman and his woman saved his life, and he walks again. (See, "A Night in the Lost World.")

"She has other names among her kind. Sometimes they call her Nicole, and sometimes, Finn. The white shaman calls her Darling. I do not know which is her real name. Maybe she has many. Their ways are strange. Mostly, they call her Finn. Sometimes, the big black-haired white man calls his woman 'Darling', too, though. I think it is an affectionate name for their loved ones, those with whom they couple.

"Great Chief, I must warn you: this Nicole or Finn is from the Plateau, but she is from the future. I have heard others speak of her, and she is a close friend of our king's youngest wife, this Sa'eera of whom we have spoken. The white shaman makes a strange formula that has turned Sa'eera's brown hair like the color of the two white girls with yellow hair. King Jacoba likes women with this color of hair. Sa'eera was already his favorite, but he loves her even more, now. And the dark -haired woman has trained Jacoba's wives and a few others of our kind to dance for men in a way that excites both the men and their women, who are thrilled to so please their men. I have tried to move this way, but it is hard to learn. I am not as good at it as is Sa'eera, whom I saw dance when she showed my friend, when the queen visited our village. She moves very well. I see why men like this dance. The man whom I was to marry next month told me that I must learn this dance better, for it pleased him." She sobbed. "Now, he will be pleased no more. His head is among those that your warriors have taken." She bowed over, sobbing.

The chief turned to the third girl who was looking at the other, now crying, herself. She will be unable to speak well now, he thought, and turned back to the first girl.

"Why do you lie, saying that this Finn comes from the future?"

"Lord," she stammered, "this is what we were told, that she came here suddenly from a cave that travels in time, which the white shaman made. He has great powers. We fear him. But he is kind to us, and he loves this yellow-haired girl a great deal. One can see this when they visit our people. With her own kind, she is not fierce, but very female and loving."

"What made these big noises and flashes that killed our men?"

"Mighty One, I know not what weapons these people have beyond their fire-sticks. They have smaller fire-sticks in holsters on their belts, and these kill, too. Veronica uses a bow, though, with much skill."

One among the wounded warriors nodded. "I saw the yellow-haired girl slay one of us with a hand-held fire-stick. She pulled back on his head by his hair as he sought to bind her friend and she stuck this small fire-stick under his chin and she blew off part of his head. It was a sobering thing to see. And she slew another man with a knife. She is not an ordinary woman. She uses weapons as a man might!" He shuddered. "We were told that these white women were witches, and we should have believed that. They ran well for women, and they do not submit, even when they know that they might be slain for not surrendering. They are fierce, yet lovely." He hung his head in shame, for he was among those who were defeated by these women.

The chief looked thoughtful. He had heard similar stories from all who had returned. It was a sobering thing to regard. Perhaps these whites were wizards...They had certainly cost the Xingu many warriors.

"I have decided, " he spoke. "We will mourn our fallen, and the shamans will attend the wounded. The heads belong to those who took them, as is their right. Display them with pride, for they are our only trophies from a raid that has cost us more men than at any other time that we have gone against the Zanga.

"The Zanga girls will be given to those whom the returning warriors say fought the bravest, for they deserve reward. But these girls will also serve one week a month in the huts of the men who actually took them, if they are not also the men to whom they are given. This will reward all who deserve to have them." This was important, for the Zanga girls were not typical Amazonian Indians, more nearly resembling Polynesians. They were lighter in color and with different features than most Indians. Their origin was unknown, but they seemed to have reached the Plateau from some place far off. Zanga girls were often beauties, as these were, or they would have been killed with their kin. They were famous for their looks, and considered great prizes as slaves. The Xingu women in whose huts the Zanga girls served were often jealous of them, and made them do most of the housework, as well as sharing them with their men.

"We have lost many warriors," the chief continued. "We will not go against other tribes for some time. We must wait until our boys have become warriors, and we must breed new boys before we dare risk more losses. We will fight for now only when we must. The Zanga girls will be bred by the men who own them, that they produce more men to attack their kind. They will thus atone in part for our losses to the Zanga. I trust that this duty will not be troubling to the men whom they serve?" He smiled.

The Zanga girls shuddered. They dreaded the thought that their forced mating might produce men who would someday kill their own people. Yet, they would strive to please their new masters, for they feared them.

Still, the strident girl wanted to make her will known. "I will conceive only daughters!" she screamed. "I will lie with my master, for I fear not to, but I will not lend my body to let you make more men to kill my kind!"

The chief looked at her with astonishment, for captive women did not express themselves to him in this way. He would surely have her publicly whipped, for she needed to learn her role here more fully. But now... he threw back his head and laughed, and his tribe laughed with him.

"Slave girl, if you can manage this, we will indeed know that the white shaman or this famed Xma'Klee has placed a spell on you. We will see. I suggest that you cease running your mouth and learn servitude. Otherwise, your arrogant mouth will cause you much pain here. Now, we will go to our homes and prepare the evening meal. We will mourn our dead tomorrow, and I will visit the men who have taken heads and congratulate them. I will award the girls tonight, as you men who fought tell me that they should be distributed. Let us eat first and think. The girls will be given to their new owners by midnight. Until then, confine them in the spare hut in the center of the village, Our women will bathe and otherwise prepare them that they look their best when they are awarded to their owners. I have spoken. Let us make medicine to protect us from the vengeance of the Zanga shaman and his white colleague. We will bind up our wounds, and we will arise in years to come as even more formidable a force than we have been until now. Then, we will again make war. And we will avenge this disaster! I have spoken. Go. C'shish, I will see you further in my hut, now."

And so, the Xingu went about their business, but many among them mourned, and some feared the supernatural, for this raid might have provoked further troubles...Perhaps it was best that they had not captured the white women, for they probably were truly witches. The Xingu needed no more harm done to them, for now.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Back on the Plateau, the Challengers and the Roxtons talked of the missing girls. The village from which they came had been visited by other Zanga after they saw the vultures and pterodactyls wheeling above it, and warriors had been sent to investigate. They reported the results and a tally was made of the known inhabitants. The men whose heads were taken had been determined by seeing which faces were identifiable on the remaining bodies. And the woman and two small children who had fled were located and they told the tale of the attack.

Jacoba was livid in his rage, and swore that if the path off of the Plateau could be found, he would send many warriors to avenge this atrocity. He ordered that the woman and the children, who were not hers, be found homes within the main kraal, his royal village. An unmarried man looked with favor on the woman and told Jacoba that she might dwell with him. He kept one child, and another couple adopted the other. Jacoba promised that he would send added food from the communal larders to these homes, thus helping those who had offered to succor their bereaved kinspersons to do so.

Veronica Layton-Malone had been at the main village when this happened, and she later told her near sister, Finn, what she had seen.

Now, Finn recounted this to the others as they picnicked on a grassy knoll above a wide pool in the nearby river. A cool breeze stirred the tepid air and the foursome sighed in pleasure as the heat abated and the grass stirred with the passage of the mild wind. The day was now actually quite pleasant, only some 80 degrees Fahrenheit. Ferns and flowers made their refuge delightful.

"At least, those poor fallen Zanga got buried and the survivors will have homes," said Challenger. "It pleases me to think that the destruction wasn't total."

"What about the missing girls?" Marguerite wanted to know. "Is there nothing that we can do for them?"

Finn shook her head. "No, Veronica said that without knowing how to get off of the plateau, we will have to give them up for lost and just hope that they don't suffer too much. I asked Vee what their chances are. She said that the Xingu wouldn't have taken them if they weren't pretty. They will probably have to do a lot of the housework in huts where they live, and the wives of the guys who own the Zanga girls may be mean to them. But they won't usually hurt them, because that would make their husbands mad."

Marguerite shuddered. "It terrifies me to think how close we came to joining them. I wonder if white women would be treated any differently."

Finn shrugged. "I doubt it, except that we'd have been displayed to others more often, being different. I don't like to think of anyone but George feeling me up the way that we would have been handled. I guess that you and I could have taught their women to dance, and not just the slaves. If we were hot stuff, the warriors would prize us even more than the Zanga girls. Maybe we'd escape, but I doubt it. They probably lock up those girls at night, and the way home would be a secret. We'd just be lost down there, off of the Plateau." She shivered, and Challenger looked at her with concern, and put his right arm around her. His left arm was still stiff, and he favored it. He would have a scar, but not as bad as if the native medicine that he'd finally used hadn't been so effective. Marguerite could remove his stitches soon.

What happens to them as time goes by?" asked Roxton. "Are they adopted into the Xingu tribe? Did Veronica say?"

Finn nodded. "She said that the Zanga girls can't become Xingu, but if they become pregnant, and the man who owns them agrees, they can be elevated from slave status to become concubines. But not full wives. The kids they bear are full-fledged Xingu, though, and are raised that way."

"So, they bear children that may have to fight their mothers' people..." mused Marguerite.

"Yeah," agreed Finn. "If they'd taken us, our kids would be half white. I wonder whether they'd be fully accepted, or maybe considered special."

"Any child of yours would be special, Marguerite," said Roxton, taking her hand.

She glowed. "John, that was lovely of you to say. Thankfully, I will have some voice in whose child I bear."

"Really? Whose?" teased Roxton and she tossed a lettuce leaf at him half heartedly. They looked at one another and laughed. He leaned over and kissed her cheek.

Finn reached for the turkey. "Anyone want more to eat? We still have some turkey and some ham."

"I just wish that I could perfect that formula for Dijon mustard," grumbled Challenger. "I am close, but the mustard seeds here are a little different. Oh, well, what we make is still good."

"Guard your pickle carefully, Marguerite," warned Finn. "If you take your eye off of it for a moment, one or the other of these guys will swipe it." But she offered her pickle to Challenger. He asked with a lift of his eyebrows whether she wanted it. She shook her head and extended it further. He took it and crunched happily down on it.

"A good dill pickle stimulates the mind. I shall probably think of something colossal this afternoon."

The others groaned, and Marguerite asked Roxton if he'd like her pickle. "It's about time that you thought of something 'colossal', John. Maybe if you eat this and George is right, you could divine the way home."

He smiled tenderly. "Darling, home is wherever I have you. But, yes, I will eat that pickle and if I think of the way to Avebury, I'll let everyone know."

Challenger glanced up at the sky. "It will be soon be getting on toward evening. We should think of returning to the Treehouse. We have been exceedingly fortunate in having that available to us."

"I'm sewing Veronica some new clothes this week, by way of letting her know how much we value her hospitality," noted Marguerite.

"Good," said Roxton. "But we also help her in other very tangible ways. Had we not been here with our guns, she'd probably be a slave in the Xingu village now. They'd have hardly overlooked the chance to capture her, and they'd have found the Treehouse."

"I'm glad that it's a two-way street," his fiancée commented. Then, she smothered a laugh. "I can't believe that she and Finn made me learn to cook. But I'm rather glad that I can, after a fashion. I'm proud to be able to, to impress Roxton here."

And so the talk went, with the two couples packing up and going, returning to the Treehouse, happy in one another's' company, their step spry and their faces animated and happy.

XXX

In the Treehouse, Veronica and Ned Malone had finished cleaning up after lunch, and retired to their bedroom. We will draw the curtain on what they did there, but they enjoyed one another's company to the maximum degree that two humans who are very attracted to one another can manage to do.

After, she lay naked in Ned's arms and they talked of many things, including those that were discussed by their friends.

The others returned to the Treehouse as Ned and Veronica were further enjoying one another's company to the fullest. Veronica heard the elevator first. "Gad, Ned," she shrieked. "They're home!"

"Already?!" grumbled a startled Ned. But he rolled off of his mate and both scrambled for their clothes as the elevator ascended.

Veronica had her loincloth on and got Ned to fasten her top from behind as the elevator door opened. They heard Marguerite call, "Don't shoot! It's us! Come out, wherever you are!" She seemed happy...

Veronica brushed her hair hastily as Ned hopped around, donning his trousers.

Veronica went down to greet the others and Ned stuffed his shirt into his waistband. He saw Veronica's sky blue panties on a chair, and hid them under a pillow as he made up the bed before anyone saw it. He pulled on his boots as words reached him from below.

By the time that he staggered downstairs, cursing his luck about the return of his friends, Veronica and Marguerite were heating water for tea. Veronica realized that Marguerite had guessed what she was doing when they had started up to the Treehouse, but she refrained from teasing her.

Finn gave Veronica a speculative look, with the hint of a smile on her lips, but she also declined comment. She was slicing fruit and buttering a slice of bread for her man.

Roxton and Challenger sat at the dining table, where they waylaid Ned to tell him about their trip.

"I trust that we have heard no more from those perishing headhunters?" asked their leader. He stroked his beard, which Finn had trimmed the day before.

"No, George, it's been quiet here. We heard a drum message from Jacoba to the effect that patrols have found no more Xingu, or any more Zanga survivors." Ned had decided to be nonchalant, brassing out any chance that the others might guess what he had been doing. Challenger would just be mildly embarrassed that they had interrupted their host couple, but Roxton might give him a knowing look, and a smirk. So would Finn.

Finn came out and sat with the men, settling her chair beside Challenger's. They held hands as the couples caught each other up on what their day had been like. Veronica called that dinner would be ready in half an hour, and she and Marguerite soon joined the others.

During dinner, the group discussed their recent weeks, with emphasis on the Xingu episode.

After a time, Veronica said, "We had a really narrow escape. I shudder every time I think of how close we girls came to being led off of this Plateau to serve some heinous master who is only a savage by our standards. They are not known for kindness, either. You guys look better with your heads in place, too. Thank goodness for guns and luck!"

"You can say that again!" exclaimed Marguerite. So, Veronica did, as everyone groaned. But Finn grinned across at her virtual sister. Such droll humor was something that Veronica had acquired from the wry, often irreverent, Finn.

As they ate, an idea occurred to Veronica. "Why don't we make some rum punch and dance after dinner? Don't look so enthusiastic, Ned. I mean, why don't we dance as couples?"

Everyone laughed as Ned put on a disappointed face. He was getting used to being teased for his enthusiasm for watching the dances performed by the girls for the men. These were led by Marguerite, whose skills in Middle Eastern dance were supreme.. The men enjoyed these demonstrations enormously, especially if one of their women writhed directly in front of her man. In truth, the girls found this ego enhancing, loving how their erotic moves held their partners spellbound. But tonight was too late for that, and everyone was somewhat tired from the day's picnic and other exertions.

All agreed, and Roxton tried not to show the way that his heart raced at the thought of Marguerite waltzing in his arms.

Coffee and cake consumed, they moved a little of the furniture to give more room, and Ned set up the Victrola phonograph while Challenger and Marguerite selected some music.

Finn took Challenger aside. "Genius, can you hold me okay if we dance? Is the arm good enough for that?" She looked into his eyes with concern, and his heart was full with the knowledge of her compassion and her love.

"I shall manage, Darling. I can't put much weight on it yet, but if I hold you lightly with that arm, we will get by. No waltzing, but if we just do what you call 'slow dancing', I foresee no problem. And it will be wonderful to feel you in my arms again." He smiled and she glowed in the radiance of his gaze. She reached up and kissed him and they walked hand-in-hand back to the table.

The music began, and the couples danced, changing partners for variety on occasion. But each felt a special bond with his or her own mate. Finn saw how Roxton and Marguerite were looking at each other at one point and nudged Challenger to be sure that he noticed. He smiled and nodded.

In time, the dancing concluded, and they finished off the punch and some cookies, cleaned the kitchen, and went up to their rooms.

Before they ascended the stairs, Roxton pointedly closed the barred window gate that he and Ned had made since a Xingu intruder had entered that window.

XXX

The Malones were tired and soon slept. The Roxtons and the Challengers were still alert, and talked with their partners for awhile before they retired.

Let us visit the Roxtons first...

"John, thank you for making that window. I feel much more secure. We are fortunate that nothing large came in through the curtains before, except for one big, ghastly snake. I still shudder to think what would have happened to us, had Finn not gone down to the kitchen and surprised that Xingu savage before he could cut all of our throats." She snuggled next to Roxton and propped herself up on an elbow. She talked to him with their faces inches apart.

"Too bloody right," he acknowledged. "Good thing that George threw him out the window with no more damage than that nasty cut that he got in the process. But I think it was you, Madam, who kept us from harm that night. Ask me why." He smiled suggestively at her, and Marguerite's heart raced. She pretended only mild interest.

"Very well. Why? I'm sure that I haven't a clue. I was sound asleep until I heard all of the yelling."

"Because you bring me luck, Marguerite. I'm flirting, but I believe it, too." He looked seriously at her, then rolled over, sat up, and took her face in his hands. She sat up, too, both nude, she upright now, sitting with her legs crossed as she looked into his eyes.

Marguerite saw his eyes flicker to where her hands hid her most intimate place, and she moved them to her outer thighs, that his view of her be unimpaired. She had come to enjoy basking in his gaze, taking pleasure and reassurance from his admiration of her body, knowing that he also saw her heart and her mind with equal appreciation. His enjoyment of her was full and total, and she blessed Fate that she had met this remarkable man who had given her a whole new world. She still felt unworthy of him, but embraced the future that he promised her. He had taught her what love truly meant, and it had struck her with such impact that Marguerite Krux was for a time terrified to admit, even to herself, that she had fallen for Lord John Roxton like a locomotive dropping from the sky. Not that trains could fly, but with that sort of plunge...

He leaned over and kissed each of her eyes, then her brow between them, finally her lips, teasing them with his own and with his tongue so skillfully that she closed her eyes and concentrated on the sensation with all of her might. This was Paradise, she thought, or as close to it as she would know in this life.

His hands caressed her breasts, playing knowingly with the nipples until they grew as hard as the diamonds that had once been her primary passion. She gasped, and held him as his mouth moved to her neck, below her ear, and she moaned an incoherent sound that nonetheless said all that need be said between a man and a woman when he is arousing her. It was just as well she thought, for what he was doing left her all but speechless. He KNOWS what he is doing to me, she reflected, and reddened as she realized that her reactions let him read her like a large-type book. Oh, my goodness, if he puts a finger in me down there now, he will know at once that I am so eager for him to enter me that I am as wet as a tree caught in a Monsoon downpour!

She noticed that she was unconsciously shifting her hips, her arousal evident. Roxton lifted her, and she slid onto his lap and impaled herself on his erect member as her pulse raced like a greyhound in pursuit of a hare. I am a slut in heat, and John knows that. I cannot hide my feelings for him, let alone hide what he does to light fires all over my body. I have known a number of men, but this one...and he LOVES ME! She shuddered and moved up and down on his shaft, hearing him, too, moan in delight as she applied herself to his need. It felt very satisfying to know that she could pleasure him so much. She knew that he had known many women, and wanted to be the best that he would experience, or even dream of taking. Some of this desire arose from her own vanity, but there was a strong element of wanting to please him as no other woman had, or would. This was born not out of vanity, but out of love.

Her heart swelled as he carefully lifted her off of his lap and laid her down on her back and entered her again.

His hands played with all of her that he could reach, probing her internally as he nibbled her neck and murmured things that thrilled her into her ear.

Marguerite swung up her legs and held him by the waist. "I've got you now, and I'm not letting go," she warned. "I couldn't bear the thought of losing you, dearest John!"

He laughed softly. "If you keep a grasp on me like that, Darling, you will be in no danger of losing me. Not that I will let you lose me. I want you with me until the end of time, Marguerite. My only regret is that we took so long to admit that we were right for one another."

"Are we?" she teased, "Show me, John, show me how right we are for one another. Not that I'm really in any doubt whatever..."

And so he showed her how right they were for each other, until she exploded in the most intense orgasm that she had ever experienced.

After, she lay still in his arms, telling him how much he meant to her. It was fairly easy to say, for he meant the world to her. He played with her hair, looking directly into her eyes, telling her that she was the perfect woman, and she grew warm inside and smiled as he held her.

In time, they slept, entwined in one another's' arms and hearts. She thought just before sleep claimed her that she was the luckiest woman in the world, and never mind what Finn said. If this wasn't the romance of the centuries, the love of all time, Marguerite was satisfied with whatever it was that she and Roxton had!

XXX

Finn and George Challenger went to their room and looked out at the dark night, the lights off. They used binoculars to scan the heavens, something that Finn had recently taken to doing. She had re-awakened Challenger's interest in this, something that he had not done in years. It was an activity that they sometimes did together now before going to bed.

"This just floors me," Finn admitted. "Genius, we are so infinitely small, compared to the universe. But what we have together looms so large in me that I almost faint when I think of how much you mean to me."

"Darling, you might as well be describing how I feel about you," the great scientist admitted. "You have filled my heart for the past year and a bit, and I had never thought to interact so completely with anyone. But you brought out the latent desire in me to share my life with someone with whom I would have this level of rapport. I had just never found that person before. I suppose that I was subconsciously looking, and when I got to know you well, it hit me with the force of a great scientific revelation that I was in love like I had never been."

"You, too? That's what I felt like, like I told you once. Like I woke up all rosy one morning and I realized that I was in love. It was, like, totally different from the love that I have for Johnny, Marguerite, and Vee. They mean the world to me, but this...it was so different, so fulfilling, so natural and compelling. George, I do love you, more than I can say. You must be tired of hearing it, but I am so full of joy over being yours, that I can't help but say so."

"It's mutual," he assured her. "If ever anything has challenged my interest in science as my supreme obsession, it is you." He smiled, and she knew that he was teasing, yet he meant basically what he said.

"Oh, look, George! There's a meteor! A big one!" As they watched, the meteor split, the three divisions burning out within a second or two, yet leaving an indelible impression that would linger with them for the rest of their lives. The sight in the dark jungle sky was stunning. This must be how their primeval ancestors had seen such things, and trembled, wondering at the meaning, if any.

"Lover, do you think these things or comets have any special meaning? Do they prophesy things?"

"I should hope not!" he responded. "I should hate to think that Montezuma II was right in his assumption that Cortes was a god coming to fulfill the Aztec prophecy of doom. But perhaps this one has been an omen for us." He paused, struggling to phrase what he would say next.

"Nicole, you have just a week and one more month of birth control pills. Do you want to finish that cycle, then go off of the pill and try to conceive?"

She was stunned. "Genius, I thought that you wanted to wait until we were in Britain. I'll try to get pregnant whenever you tell me to, but I thought that with the difficulty of raising kids here..." Her voice trailed off and she looked intently at him in the darkness, trying to read his barely visible face.

He pulled her to him, holding her face in both of his large hands. He leaned over and kissed her brow, then her lips.

"Nicole, Darling, I still feel fairly certain that we shall in time find a means of leaving this place. I pray that it will be so. I want to see London again, and I know how fervently you wish to see a large, lively city. By the time you were six years old, New Amazonia was a shattered remnant of what you would otherwise have known.

"But the truth is, I cannot guarantee that we can ever leave, and it may be a year or more before we do. If we conceive soon, the child will be born in the cooler months here, which will be a boon, health-wise. I have come to believe what Veronica says about the excellence of the Zanga midwives, and I know that Xma'Klee will come, himself, if you need help. In a pinch, I rather fancy that I could perform a Caesarian operation to save you or the child. Let us hope that that will not be needed. It is always a risk, and I could not easily bear the thought of losing you, or our child. But if you truly want to have our first birth here, let us begin trying when your present supply of pills is exhausted. I will make up another batch for the other ladies, of course. I don't think they are quite ready to find themselves in a family way. I know that both Ned and John give the girls plenty of opportunity to become pregnant, if that pill fails to work!" He chuckled. "The last thing we need is for all three of you ladies to be with child at once. Anyway, what is your answer? Shall I try for fatherhood soon?"

Finn held him tightly, and said, "I'm ready as soon as the pills are gone, Genius. By then, I'll be adjusted to the idea. We've talked about this several times, and I guess we may as well see if I can grow babies. If I can't, we aren't married yet, so you can always dump me and marry one of those Haguean blondes." She snickered. The reference was to a tribe on the Plateau that was originally of Dutch origin. They had saved these people from the madness of one of Roxton's former associates, one Pierson Rice, who had thought to dominate them and force a marriage with the daughter of their queen. But Finn was not too concerned that George would leave her for one of those girls, or for anyone else. She knew that he had dallied sexually with the queen of the Amazons, but had not kept up that liaison.

"Don't even joke about that, Nicole," Challenger warned. "Even if you cannot for some reason conceive, you will remain my woman. We can adopt a child in London if we must, but I seriously doubt that we cannot produce our own offspring. You practically ooze fertility."

"I do? Is that good?"

"Yes, Darling, for the purpose outlined. Otherwise, your innate sensuality helps to take my mind off of the lab, and I need that. You are one of the most intensely sexual women whom I have known. Yet, you are the most comforting to be with. You arouse me, but you also sooth me, and the ministrations for which the other girls tease you are a constant joy to me. I want to thank you for the attention that you constantly give. It is deeply appreciated. Even when I can easily do for myself things that you undertake to do for me, I relish the attention. I wish that I could find some way to repay you for that."

"George, you have repaid me, many times over. Just hearing me out when I have problems or am stressed is more than enough payment for whatever I can do for you. I sort of worship you, yes, and I get teased for it, but I'm pleased to do it." She giggled. "But if I'm so sexual a woman, it poses a problem for us tonight."

"Why?" wondered the scientist. "My arm is still painful enough that I had better not lean over you and have you in the manner taught to the Polynesians by western missionaries, but we have alternatives. That's assuming that you aren't too tired and want to just go to bed to sleep."

"I'm not that tired, and I'm horny as heck. I think it's the aftermath of recovering from the scare that the Xingu gave me. You'd better service me tonight, you big stud! But we have to decide whether I should let you undress me, or if you should sit back and watch me strip for you. What suits your fancy, Lover?" She nuzzled his chest and ran her hands down his back.

"Oh. So, this is the problem which we must solve? Finn, I am a genius scientist. That will prove no problem at all. Why don't you undress as I watch, then let me take your final garment? You like it when I do that, and I enjoy watching you divest yourself of your attire for my pleasure. That will serve both purposes, will it not?" He ruffled her hair, took her by the hand and led her back into the room, closing the outer door.

She leaned against him as they walked to the bed by flashlight and turned on the light. They took off their guns and put one on each side of the bed, on their nightstands, as usual. She collected both binoculars and put them in their cases in a nearby chair, and sat on the bed for him to tug off her boots.

Then he sat on the bed, taking off his own boots as she removed her top and shorts. She tossed them in the chair, and flexed one leg as she reached behind her with both hands to unclip her bra, the way that he said she looked so feminine and graceful while doing it.

Clad now just in brief black panties with lace floral trim, Finn stood by him as he undressed, then sniffed his shirt. "Laundry day is tomorrow. This goes in it," she declared. She hung up his pants and put the other clothes in the laundry bag on the floor of their closet. Then, she came to stand before him, hands on her head.

"Want to look at my face as you take these off, or have me turn so that it's a surprise and a little scary for me when you take them?" She looked mischievously into her man's eyes, and loved the warmth and humor that she saw there.

"Just stand there while I warm you a bit with my hands, then you can watch as I disrobe you." He ran his hands over her butt, knowing that she loved his touch there, and squiggled his fingertips over her back and along her waist. She broke out in goose bumps as her skin reacted to his caresses. He leaned forward and nuzzled one breast, tugging lightly at the other nipple with skilled fingers.

Finn groaned and ground her loins under his touch. She shivered. He ran a finger under the elastic waistband of the panties. "Take those off, Genius, and do me. I am so hot for you that I think I'll scream if you aren't plugged into me in a minute or so." She lowered her hands and began playing with his hair and ears, standing very close.

Challenger slipped the panties free, helping Finn to step out of them. He tossed them next to his .45 on the nightstand. Then, he nuzzled her tummy, his hands tickling her rear and her back.

Finn groaned and mewed. She knew what she must look like, face flushed, eyes now closed in passion, obviously in heat. A moment later, she lay beside Challenger, their hands busy with one another.

Later, they lay quietly in one another's arms, whispering tender compliments and expressing their love and their hopes for the future.

Finn turned on her side and leaned on an elbow. "Genius, do you really think that we have a chance of getting out of here?"

Challenger thought briefly, then told her that he was truly convinced that they would escape the Plateau, although he couldn't say when.

"We know for a fact that there are trails down off of this mesa. The Xingu and others have found them. But if we build a new, larger balloon, I believe that we can catch the right breezes and lift off on our own. We need not find those trails. By my calculations, the odds are with us. We shall probably get clear of the Plateau, then drift downriver until we wish to land and reprovision. I believe that we will do this. If a trail is found first, fine. But I will talk to the other men tomorrow and we will design and build this new balloon.

"Even if we must for some reason remain here, and I doubt that we must, I want to have a child with you. Our son or daughter will undoubtedly be brilliant. We are remarkable people, and we will have remarkable offspring. I just hope that we can reach my own country, where we and our family can have all of the advantages of a modern life, and an opportunity to shine. What will you do, if you can. beyond assisting me in the lab and being a superb mother?" He was genuinely curious, and he knew that Finn would want more than being a housewife who helped her husband's career.

Finn played with her hair, thinking. She decided to tell him her new ambition, decided upon in the last few weeks, after talks with Ned Malone, the journalist.

"George, I want to go hunting in Africa and in India and in America. But I also want to film wildlife, and I want to write about our trips to other places and what we find there. Ned thinks that there's a good chance that people will buy books about our adventures, here and to come. I can write pretty well now, and Ned is helping me to do better. He says that I have real potential." She was proud of this, for she had sometimes felt inferior to her companions. An orphan refugee, she was a clever survivor, but had lacked polish and the knowledge to flourish in a civilized society. Now, she knew that she had a marketable talent.

"I daresay that you do have potential," he acknowledged. "I recall that wonderful note that you passed to me in Xochilenque. With a little training as a writer, you should be quite competent. Yes, we should be able to do that. I will do scientific research, and you can write and take photos and make motion pictures. If we do have children, they can come with us when they are old enough. They will have adventures that their peers will envy! By Jove, Finn, you have fine ideas!" And he hugged her to him.

She glowed in the light of his praise, and told him how much she appreciated his confidence in her.

"Well, Darling, you are a woman worthy of me. You should be able to excel, particularly in such endeavors. That should be right up your alley!"

They soon turned off the light and cuddled together as they prepared to sleep. Finn snuggled next to Challenger and kissed him goodnight. He responded by caressing her legs and they rubbed noses. "Good night, Genius," she murmured. "See you in the morning."

"All right," he agreed. "Seeing you is the best thing that any man ever woke up to. I love you, Finn."

And they slept, each content that they would have one another for years to come. And when Finn thought about it, she felt a confidence that she would indeed bear children for this gifted genius, this man with a mind that overshadowed so many of his fellow scientists, and an icon among men and among explorers. And he's all mine, she reflected. Finn took George's right hand, placed it atop her womb, and laid her hand on his. She smiled and slept.

The End