She wanted the secret of the making of such cloth as the
strangers wore, everything she could learn of their lives and the lands
through which they had come. She plied Ross with endless questions which
he answered as best he could, for he lay in an odd dreamy state where
only the present had any reality. The past was dim and far away, and
while he was now and then dimly aware that he had something to do, he
forgot it easily.
The chief and his men prowled the half-built station after the attackers
had withdrawn, bringing back with them a handful of loot--a bronze
razor, two skinning knives, some fishhooks, a length of cloth which
Frigga appropriated. Ross eyed this spoil indifferently, making no claim
upon it. His interest in everything about him was often blanked out by
headaches which kept him limp on his bed, uncaring and stupid for hours
or even full days.
He gathered that the tribe had been living in fear of an attack from the
same raiders who had wiped out the trading post.
Pages:
152
153
154
155
156
157
158
159
160
161
162
163
164
165
166
167
168
169
170
171
172
173
174
175
176