But then the only aspect which attracted me was the distant hills in which I hoped to find sanctuary, and so I hastened on, trampling the myriad beauties beneath my hurrying feet.  Perry says that the force of gravity is less upon the surface of the inner world than upon that of the outer.  He explained it all to me once, but I was never particularly brilliant in such matters and so most of it has escaped me.  As I recall it the difference is due in some part to the counter-attraction of that portion of the earth’s crust directly opposite the spot upon the face of Pellucidar at which one’s calculations are being made.  Be that as it may, it always seemed to me that I moved with greater speed and agility within Pellucidar than upon the outer surface—­there was a certain airy lightness of step that was most pleasing, and a feeling of bodily detachment which I can only compare with that occasionally experienced in dreams.

And as I crossed Phutra’s flower-bespangled plain that time I seemed almost to fly, though how much of the sensation was due to Perry’s suggestion and how much to actuality I am sure I do not know.  The more I thought of Perry the less pleasure I took in my new-found freedom.  There could be no liberty for me within Pellucidar unless the old man shared it with me, and only the hope that I might find some way to encompass his release kept me from turning back to Phutra.

Just how I was to help Perry I could scarce imagine, but I hoped that some fortuitous circumstance might solve the problem for me.  It was quite evident however that little less than a miracle could aid me, for what could I accomplish in this strange world, naked and unarmed?  It was even doubtful that I could retrace my steps to Phutra should I once pass beyond view of the plain, and even were that possible, what aid could I bring to Perry no matter how far I wandered?

The case looked more and more hopeless the longer I viewed it, yet with a stubborn persistency I forged ahead toward the foothills.  Behind me no sign of pursuit developed, before me I saw no living thing.  It was as though I moved through a dead and forgotten world.

I have no idea, of course, how long it took me to reach the limit of the plain, but at last I entered the foothills, following a pretty little canyon upward toward the mountains.  Beside me frolicked a laughing brooklet, hurrying upon its noisy way down to the silent sea.  In its quieter pools I discovered many small fish, of four-or five-pound weight I should imagine.  In appearance, except as to size and color, they were not unlike the whale of our own seas.  As I watched them playing about I discovered, not only that they suckled their young, but that at intervals they rose to the surface to breathe as well as to feed upon certain grasses and a strange, scarlet lichen which grew upon the rocks just above the water line.

It was this last habit that gave me the opportunity I craved to capture one of these herbivorous cetaceans—­that is what Perry calls them—­and make as good a meal as one can on raw, warm-blooded fish; but I had become rather used, by this time, to the eating of food in its natural state, though I still balked on the eyes and entrails, much to the amusement of Ghak, to whom I always passed these delicacies.