THE PRIZE BASKET 119

was! How very thoughtful! “But perhaps your father
will not allow a slave to compete for the prize?”

“I have asked him and he has given his permis-
sion,” Steilta told her. “I asked him before Kish
talked to him about it, and he will not go back on
his word. That is why I ran down to tell you. Now
I am going back, for there are still many things
to see, and so many people there that it is hard to
see anything. Later I will tell you all about these
things. Here is something I brought to you. There
were two of them. I ate the other one myself and
it was very good.” He dropped something small and
sticky into Lana’s hand and climbed quickly to the
ground. A moment later he was racing through the
village on his way back to the trading-post on the
hill.

When he had gone, Lana looked curiously at the
piece of sticky yellow stuff in her hand. Cautiously
she touched it with the tip of her tongue and found
it more delicious than anything she had ever tasted.
Before Steilta reached the top of the hill it was gone,
hard lemon-drop though it was, but the remembrance
of that strange sweet tartness lasted until the sun
had set and darkness drove the excited happy throng
down the trail to roaring fires and hot food prepared
by slaves in the village below.

The next morning work began upon the baskets
and excitement ran high in the village as the basket-
makers settled down to work. From the very first,