Chapter 6. A Pendent World
The Mahars set me free as they had promised, but with strict injunctions never to
approach Phutra or any other Mahar city. They also made it perfectly plain that they
considered me a dangerous creature, and that having wiped the slate clean in so far as
they were under obligations to me, they now considered me fair prey. Should I again fall
into their hands, they intimated it would go ill with me.
They would not tell me in which direction Hooja had set forth with Dian, so I departed
from Phutra, filled with bitterness against the Mahars, and rage toward the Sly One who
had once again robbed me of my greatest treasure.
At first I was minded to go directly back to Anoroc; but upon second thought turned my
face toward Sari, as I felt that somewhere in that direction Hooja would travel, his own
country lying in that general direction.
Of my journey to Sari it is only necessary to say that it was fraught with the usual
excitement and adventure, incident to all travel across the face of savage Pellucidar. The
dangers, however, were greatly reduced through the medium of my armament. I often
wondered how it had happened that I had ever survived the first ten years of my life
within the inner world, when, naked and primitively armed, I had traversed great areas of
her beast-ridden surface.
With the aid of my map, which I had kept with great care during my march with the
Sagoths in search of the great secret, I arrived at Sari at last. As I topped the lofty plateau
in whose rocky cliffs the principal tribe of Sarians find their cave-homes, a great hue and
cry arose from those who first discovered me.
Like wasps from their nests the hairy warriors poured from their caves. The bows with
their poison-tipped arrows, which I had taught them to fashion and to use, were raised
against me. Swords of hammered iron-- another of my innovations--menaced me, as with
lusty shouts the horde charged down.
It was a critical moment. Before I should be recog- nized I might be dead. It was evident
that all semblance of intertribal relationship had ceased with my going, and that my
people had reverted to their former savage, suspicious hatred of all strangers. My garb
must have puzzled them, too, for never before of course had they seen a man clothed in
khaki and puttees.
Leaning my express rifle against my body I raised both hands aloft. It was the peace-sign
that is recognized everywhere upon the surface of Pellucidar. The charging warriors
paused and surveyed me. I looked for my friend Ghak, the Hairy One, king of Sari, and
presently I saw him coming from a distance. Ah, but it was good to see his mighty, hairy
form once more! A friend was Ghak--a friend well worth the having; and it had been
some time since I had seen a friend.