Every home seemed to possess all the necessaries for weaving the moss into garments for wear. There was little difference in the men’s and women’s dress—a tunic that was worn wide open at the breast and a slightly shorter skirt on the male was all that distinguished them, except of course, the training of the hair.
The families seemed to live in intense domestic happiness, but jealousy made them suspicious of their neighbours, and members of the bodyguard of the high priest and Kaweeka were continually called in to check the bickerings and quarrels that were always taking place.
Alan and Desmond walked on heedless of time; suddenly their guard came up behind them, and in no gentle manner intimated to them that it was time they returned.
Their life grew very monotonous, but they were together—that was their only comfort. Kaweeka had grown sullen and silent. She seemed to realize that her uncanny power was useless now that Alan had appeared on the scene, and she brooded over the slight he had put upon her when he scorned her.
They still lived in her house, but seldom saw her. Food was brought them at regular intervals. Sometimes days passed and they were not allowed to go out. At other times Kaweeka would grow soft and gentle and would send them out in her chariot, and they would take their food and be away all day, wandering by the underground rivers and lakes, or gathering fruits in the quaint dwarf copses, where the tallest tree was not more than four feet high.
Time hung very heavily on their hands, and there seemed no hope of their ever being able to extricate themselves from their terrible position.
They learnt to weave the moss into tunics for themselves, and they made mats and rugs for their apartments. Grasses they plaited into belts—and that constituted the whole of their amusement and work.
Their personal guard, Wolta, was a particularly fierce individual, who had never recovered from his violent dislike of the white strangers. What services he did for them he did grudgingly, and their food was often ill-served and spoiled through his spite.
Then came the day when a new man appeared to wait on them. They could not understand what he said, but Okwa intimated to them that they were to follow him. He led them down to the lower floor and out into a courtyard behind the house.
There in a rude coffin, fashioned of cloth stretched on poles, lay Wolta—dead. The boys watched in interest, for this was the first death they had seen since they had been in the underworld.