The swirl of yellow dust sifted through the cavern passages. Coughing and puffing hard, I fought my way into the heap—in time to catch sight of Gravgak staggering off toward an exit tunnel.
The three of us stood together. A strange trio. Two Benzendellas, one Earth man. Bound together in an allegiance that all the space in the universe could never divide. Vauna was weeping softly, holding her arms tight about herself, her hands cupped over the fur wrappings of her elbows.
She said she could not understand Gravgak's behavior. Once he had had a chance to become the leader. Was it all because he was insane with jealousy—because she loved me?
Her father thought it was more than this. He had evidently read signs of disloyalty in Gravgak, even before my coming. Too many plans had filtered out to the savage enemies. For a long time Gravgak had been impatient for a chance to succeed Tomboldo; my coming had thwarted the original plan—the murderous attack on the sunset meeting. Yes, Gravgak had been twisting the sponge-tree bands into his own schemes even then.
The fine boldness showed in Tomboldo's eyes as he talked. People had gathered, and they saw clearly the truth of his charges.
But now there were delays in getting ready to go to the better land on another side of this planet. Part of the delay was caution. Gravgak would probably lie in waiting for the Benzendella migration to the serpent river. He would plan an attack. Some waiting, some scouting and much preparation would be a matter of wisdom. Meanwhile, if Gravgak could be found, let him be killed on sight.
Several weeks passed. Secret preparations for the twenty mile migration were completed. I was pleased to hear that Campbell had had a share in these plans. He had made several night hikes back to the ship, and had kept watch through the telescope by day, and made valuable observations by means of infra-red photography by night. He knew where the nests of the savage bands were located. Moreover, I learned that he and a few of Tomboldo's choice scouts, under cover of darkness, crossed through the sponge-tree area to examine the Serpent River at close range and determine upon a suitable place for getting the Benzendella tribe aboard.
For these observations, and for an abundance of scientific data which he picked up about the Serpent River itself, I was deeply grateful. If this expedition succeeded in its purposes, the success would be to his credit, not mine.
Nevertheless, when I was at last conducted to his quarters at the end of one of the tunnels—my long awaited visit—I did not spend all my time complimenting him for his fine achievements.
"You're going to be ready to make the trip with the tribe, I presume?" I asked, when we got around to the plans for the migration.