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Ross had believed that his original captors were physically imposing, but this one was their master. Lying on the ground at the chieftain's feet, Ross felt like a small and helpless child. Foscar, if Foscar this was, could not yet have entered middle age, and the muscles which moved along his arms and across his shoulders as he leaned over to study Tulka's prize made him bear-strong.

Ross's horse was pulled up as Foscar drove his heel into the ribs of his own mount, sending it at a brisker pace toward the neck of the valley. There was a blot of blue there more than one of the aliens were waiting. Ross caught his lip between his teeth and bit down on it hard.

When Ross counted faces he learned that Tulka and another had both disappeared, possibly to contact and warn the aliens they were coming. It was midafternoon before the scouts reappeared, as unobtrusively as they had gone. They went before Foscar with a report which brought the chief over to Ross. "We go. Your chief waits " Ross raised his swollen, bitten face and made his usual protest.

Ross noted that they were both armed with spears which they carried to the fore as they rode. They were perhaps three quarters of the way to join Foscar, and Ross could see plainly the bald heads of the aliens as their faces turned in his direction. Then the strangers struck. One of them raised a weapon shaped similarly to the automatic Ross knew, except that it was longer in the barrel.

Ross did not know why he cried out, except that Foscar had only an ax and dagger which were both still sheathed at his belt. The chief sat very still, and then his horse gave a swift sidewise swerve as if in fright. Foscar collapsed, limp, bonelessly, to the trodden turf, to lie unmoving face down. Ennar whooped, a cry combining defiance and despair in one.

"You look like hunter people hair, eyes Strange chief no hair on head, eyes not like " "You saw him too?" Ross demanded eagerly. "I saw. I ride to camp they come so. Stand on rock, call to Foscar. Make magic with fire it jump up!" He pointed his arm stiffly at a bush before them on the trail. "They point little, little spear fire come out of the ground and burn.

He was content merely to be free of his bonds, a small favor, but one he savored dully. He did not know how long the debate lasted, but at length Ennar came to stand over him with a message. "Your chief he give many good things for you. Foscar take you to him." "My chief is not here," Ross repeated wearily, making a protest he knew they would not heed. "My chief sits by the bitter water and waits.

Ross could not understand their language, but he was certain that he was the subject under discussion and that Foscar had the deciding vote and had not yet given the nod to either side. Ross sat where the slaves had dumped him, rubbing his smarting wrists, so deathly weary in mind and beaten in body that he was not really interested in the fate they were planning for him.

There was more fire and the horse changed course through the rising smoke. Ross realized that the aliens were trying to cut him off from the thin safety of the woodlands. Why they didn't just shoot him as they had Foscar he could not understand. The smoke of the burning grass was thick, cutting between him and the woods.

"Child " The fist shifted from its grip on the fabric covering Ross's chest to his shoulder, and now under its compulsion Ross swayed back and forth. "Child?" From somewhere Ross raised that short laugh. "Ask Tulka. I be no child, Foscar. Tulka's ax, Tulka's knife they were in my hand. A horse Tulka had to use to bring me down." Foscar regarded him intently and then grinned.