“You will do nothing against your will.  But you have promised to come home with me.”

“Tell me, how do you remove husbands in Ifdawn?”

“Either you or I must kill him.”

He eyed her for a full minute.  “Now we are passing from folly to insanity.”

“Not at all,” replied Oceaxe.  “It is the too-sad truth.  And when you have seen Crimtyphon, you will realise it.”

“I’m aware I am on a strange planet,” said Maskull slowly, “where all sorts of unheard of things may happen, and where the very laws of morality may be different.  Still as far as I am concerned, murder is murder, and I’ll have no more to do with a woman who wants to make use of me, to get rid of her husband.”

“You think me wicked?” demanded Oceaxe steadily.

“Or mad.”

“Then you had better leave me, Maskull—­only—­”

“Only what?”

“You wish to be consistent, don’t you?  Leave all other mad and wicked people as well.  Then you’ll find it easier to reform the rest.”

Maskull frowned, but said nothing.

“Well?” demanded Oceaxe, with a half smile.

“I’ll come with you, and I’ll see Crimtyphon—­if only to warn him.”

Oceaxe broke into a cascade of rich, feminine laughter, but whether at the image conjured up by Maskull’s last words, or from some other cause, he did not know.  The conversation dropped.

At a distance of a couple of miles from the now towering cliffs, the river made a sharp, right-angled turn to the west, and was no longer of use to them on their journey.  Maskull stared up doubtfully.

“It’s a stiff climb for a hot morning.”

“Let’s rest here a little,” said she, indicating a smooth flat island of black rock, standing up just out of the water in the middle of the river.

They accordingly went to it, and Maskull sat down.  Oceaxe, however, standing graceful and erect, turned her face toward the cliffs opposite, and uttered a piercing and peculiar call.

“What is that for?” She did not answer.  After waiting a minute, she repeated the call.  Maskull now saw a large bird detach itself from the top of one of the precipices, and sail slowly down toward them.  It was followed by two others.  The flight of these birds was exceedingly slow and clumsy.

“What are they?” he asked.

She still returned no answer, but smiled rather peculiarly and sat down beside him.  Before many minutes he was able to distinguish the shapes and colors of the flying monsters.  They were not birds, but creatures with long, snakelike bodies, and ten reptilian legs apiece, terminating in fins which acted as wings.  The bodies were of bright blue, the legs and fins were yellow.  They were flying, without haste, but in a somewhat ominous fashion, straight toward them.  He could make out a long, thin spike projecting from each of the heads.

“They are shrowks,” explained Oceaxe at last.  “If you want to know their intention, I’ll tell you.  To make a meal of us.  First of all their spikes will pierce us, and then their mouths, which are really suckers, will drain us dry of blood—­pretty thoroughly too; there are no half measures with shrowks.  They are toothless beasts, so don’t eat flesh.”