The Lavalite World by Philip Jose Farmer. Chapter 13, 14, 15, 16

“We’ll ride until the beasts drop and then we’ll take to the sea. At least, I will. Once we’re out of their sight, we can get back to shore some distance down, maybe a few miles.”

“Not me,” McKay said. “Noways. I’m heading for the woods.”

“Just as you like.”

She reached into a bag and withdrew the Horn. She’d have to strap that over her shoulder beforehand, but it didn’t weigh much and shouldn’t be much of a drag.

After a hour the pursuers were so close that it was necessary to force the grewigg to full speed. This wasn’t equal to the pace of the less tired animals behind them. It quickly became evident that in a few minutes the Indians would be alongside them.

“No use going on any more!” she shouted. “Get off before they fall down and you break your neck!”

She pulled on the reins. When the sobbing foam-flecked animals began trotting, she rolled off the saddle. The soft sand eased the impact; she was up on her feet immediately. McKay followed a few seconds later. He rose, and shouted, “Now what?”

The warparty was about a hundred yards away and closing the gap swiftly. They whooped as they saw their victims were on foot. Some cut into the woods, evidently assuming that the two would run for it. Anana splashed into the shallow water and, when it was up to her waist, shucked her ragged jeans and boots. McKay was close behind her.

“I thought you were going for the trees?”

“Naw. I’d be too lonely!”

They began swimming with long slow strokes. Anana, looking back, saw that their pursuers were still on the shore. They were yelling with frustration and fury, and some were throwing their spears and hurling boomerangs after them. These fell short.

“You was right about one thing,”McKay said as they dogpaddled. “They can’t swim. Or maybe they’re afraid to. Them sharks …”

She started swimming again, heading out toward the horizon. But, another look behind her made her stop.

It was too distant to be sure. But if the redheaded man on the gregg charging the Indians by himself wasn’t Kickaha, then she was insane. It couldn’t be Red Ore; he wouldn’t do anything so crazy.

Then she saw other riders emerging from the woods, a big party. Were they chasing Kickaha so they could aid him when they caught up with him or did they want his blood?

Perhaps Kickaha was not charging the Indians singlehandedly, as she’d first thought. He was just running away from those behind him and now it was a case of the crocodile in the water and the tiger on the bank.

Whatever the situation, she was going to help him if she could. She began swimming toward the shore.

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