"What language is that?" demanded one of their captors. "Who are you and from what country do you come?"
"That is good old American, from the U.S.A.," replied Jason; "but who the devil are you and why have you captured us?" and then turning to Thoar, "these are not the Phelians, are they?"
"No," replied Thoar. "These are strange men, such as I have never before seen."
"We know who you are," said one of the bearded men. "We know the country from which you come. Do not try to deceive us."
"Very well, then, if you know, turn me loose, for you must know that we haven't a war on with anyone."
"Your country is always at war with Korsar," replied the speaker. "You are a Sarian. I know it by the weapons that you carry. The moment I saw them, I knew that you were from distant Sari. The Cid will be glad to have you and so will Bulf. Perhaps," he added, turning to one of his fellows, "this is Tanar, himself. Did you see him when he was a prisoner in Korsar?"
"No, I was away upon a cruise," replied the other. "I did not see him, but if this is indeed he we shall be well rewarded."
"We might as well return to the ship now," said the first speaker. "There is no use waiting any longer for these flat-footed natives with but one chance in a thousand of finding a good looking woman among them."
"They told us further down the river that these people sometimes captured women from Zoram. Perhaps it would be well to wait."
"No," said the other, "I should like well enough to see one of these women from Zoram that I have heard of all my life, but the natives will not return as long as we are in the vicinity. We have been gone from the ship too long now and if I know the captain, he will be wanting to slit a few throats by the time we get back."