The Kro-lu stood watching us with stolid indifference. I presume
that he expected to be killed; but if he did, he showed no outward
sign of fear. His eyes, indicating his greatest interest, were
fixed upon my pistol or the rifle which Ajor still carried. I cut
his bonds with my knife. As I did so, an expression of surprise
tinged and animated the haughty reserve of his countenance. He
eyed me quizzically.
"What are you going to do with me?" he asked.
"You are free," I replied. "Go home, if you wish."
"Why don't you kill me?" he inquired. "I am defenseless."
"Why should I kill you? I have risked my life and that of this young
lady to save your life. Why, therefore should I now take it?" Of
course, I didn't say "young lady" as there is no Caspakian equivalent
for that term; but I have to allow myself considerable latitude in
the translation of Caspakian conversations. To speak always of a
beautiful young girl as a "she" may be literal; but it seems far
from gallant.
The Kro-lu concentrated his steady, level gaze upon me for at least
a full minute. Then he spoke again.
"Who are you, man of strange skins?" he asked. "Your she is Galu;
but you are neither Galu nor Krolu nor Band-lu, nor any other sort
of man which I have seen before. Tell me from whence comes so
mighty a warrior and so generous a foe.
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