Morten backed away to inspect his son for injuries he might have received. “You’re all right?” he said.
“I’m fine, Dad. But you don’t understand —”
The natives were not backing off, arrows drawn, spears poised, as they had been when they brought him into the cell. There were no weapons at all in their hands. And they were grinning like innocent children.
Morten gestured toward the natives and turned to Free in bewilderment. “What —?”
“We’re friends,” said Free. “All these are my friends. They told me there was another strange man who had been locked up in one of the villages, and I hunted and hunted until I found the one, because I knew it had to be you. I’m sorry, Dad, that I caused you all this trouble. But you wouldn’t have let me go if I had asked, would you?”
“No. No, I wouldn’t.
