"The caves of your people are nearby?"
"An hour's march in that direction," Trakor said, pointing.
Tharn's eyebrows lifted in surprise. "So far? Do you often go alone this deep into the jungle?"
Whereupon Trakor found himself telling the forest god the whole story: how the raven-haired Lanoa had shown, by her admiration for the young hunters of the tribe, that she would never become the mate of a man who did not excel in the hunt; how he was determined to prove to her and to the others of Gerdak's tribe that he too was a great hunter.
Tharn listened with grave attention, and while there were times when he was tempted to smile at some unconscious revelation of the boy's character, he resisted the impulse. It required courage to venture alone into the forest armed only with a spear. The soul of an artist, as revealed by Trakor's love of painting, had clashed with the hot blood of youth and a desire to appear to advantage in the eyes of a lovely woman. Older and more conservative men than Tharn would have named Trakor's act sheer lunacy; but Tharn was neither old nor conservative. Under the circumstances he would have done exactly the same thing.
When Trakor was finished, Tharn said, "There will be other days for hunting. Unless you are willing to travel the jungle at night, you had best start for the caves of Gerdak."
Trakor sought to hide his apprehension as he looked about the dusk-filled glade and back to the dark hole which marked the game trail entrance.
"You are right," he said, turning to the cave lord. "I am grateful to you for saving me from Sadu, mighty Tharn. Who knows but that someday I may be of help to you."
"Who knows?" Tharn repeated gravely.