“If so, we are likely to fall in with the hunters before long, I fear,” remarked the captain.
“Why do you fear?” asked Maikar.
“Because they may be numerous and savage, and may take a fancy to make slaves of us, and as we number only three we could not resist their fancy without losing our lives.”
“That would be a pity,” returned Maikar, “for we have only one life to lose.”
“No; we have three lives to lose amongst us,” objected the captain.
“Which makes one each, does it not?” retorted the seaman.
“True, Maikar, and we must lose them all, and more if we had them, rather than become slaves.”
“You are right, captain. We never, never shall be slaves,” said Bladud.
They say that history repeats itself. Perhaps sentiment does the same. At all events, the British prince gave utterance that day to a well-known sentiment, which has been embalmed in modern song and shouted by many a Briton with tremendous enthusiasm—though not absolute truth.
“Captain Arkal,” said the little seaman, as they jogged quietly down the sunny slope of a hill, at the bottom of which was a marsh full of rushes, “how do you manage to find your way through such a tangled country as this?”