"
Sarkoja and the other women grunted angrily at this evidence of
weakness on the part of Sola.
"It is sad, Sola, that you were not born a million years ago,"
snapped Sarkoja, "when all the hollows of the land were filled with
water, and the peoples were as soft as the stuff they sailed upon.
In our day we have progressed to a point where such sentiments mark
weakness and atavism. It will not be well for you to permit Tars
Tarkas to learn that you hold such degenerate sentiments, as I
doubt that he would care to entrust such as you with the grave
responsibilities of maternity."
"I see nothing wrong with my expression of interest in this red
woman," retorted Sola. "She has never harmed us, nor would she
should we have fallen into her hands. It is only the men of her
kind who war upon us, and I have ever thought that their attitude
toward us is but the reflection of ours toward them. They live at
peace with all their fellows, except when duty calls upon them to
make war, while we are at peace with none; forever warring among
our own kind as well as upon the red men, and even in our own
communities the individuals fight amongst themselves. Oh, it is
one continual, awful period of bloodshed from the time we break the
shell until we gladly embrace the bosom of the river of mystery,
the dark and ancient Iss which carries us to an unknown, but at
least no more frightful and terrible existence! Fortunate indeed is
he who meets his end in an early death.
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