Geeka had undergone a transformation since her little mother had
left the village of The Sheik. Her garmenture now reflected in
miniature that of Meriem. A tiny bit of leopard skin covered her
ratskin torso from shoulder to splinter knee. A band of braided
grasses about her brow held in place a few gaudy feathers from the
parakeet, while other bits of grass were fashioned into imitations
of arm and leg ornaments of metal. Geeka was a perfect little
savage; but at heart she was unchanged, being the same omnivorous
listener as of yore. An excellent trait in Geeka was that she
never interrupted in order to talk about herself. Today was no
exception. She had been listening attentively to Meriem for an
hour, propped against the bole of a tree while her lithe, young
mistress stretched catlike and luxurious along a swaying branch
before her.
"Little Geeka," said Meriem, "our Korak has been gone for a long
time today. We miss him, little Geeka, do we not? It is dull and
lonesome in the great jungle when our Korak is away. What will he
bring us this time, eh? Another shining band of metal for Meriem's
ankle? Or a soft, doeskin loin cloth from the body of a black she?
He tells me that it is harder to get the possessions of the shes,
for he will not kill them as he does the males, and they fight
savagely when he leaps upon them to wrest their ornaments from
them.
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