United States or Mauritania ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
If he were only free to explore! He reached out to touch Menlik's shoulder. The shaman half turned, opening his eyes with the languid effort of a sleepy cat. But the spark of intelligence awoke in them quickly. "What is it?" For a moment Travis hesitated, already regretting his impulse. He did not know how much Menlik remembered of the present.
Say, below the level of a neighboring peak where a man may lie in wait to fire." Silent Apaches faced silent Mongols, and Travis had a chance to taste what might be defeat. But the helicopter must be taken before they advanced toward the ship and the settlement. "And, maker of traps, how do you intend to bait this one?" Menlik's question was an open challenge.
Jil-Lee nodded and then said to the shaman: "We shall stay here and watch. But since it is bad for you do you go. And we shall meet you near this place of the towers. Agreed?" For a moment Menlik's face held a shadowy expression Travis tried to read. Was it resentment resentment that he was forced to retreat when the others could stand their ground?
"Give us proof that this will act against their machines!" "What proof, Shaman?" asked Jil-Lee. "Shall we burn down a mountain that you may believe? This is now a matter of time." Travis had a sudden inspiration. "You say that the 'copter is out. Suppose we use that as a target?" "That that can sweep the flyer from the sky?" Menlik's disbelief was open. Travis wondered if he had gone too far.
Had the shaman retreated so far along the road to his past that he now believed in his own supernatural powers? Or was this to impress his watching followers? "You call upon your spirits for aid, Menlik? But the Apache has the companionship of the ga-n. Ask of Kaydessa: Who hunts with the Fox in the wilds?" Travis' sharp challenge stopped that wand in mid-air. Menlik's head swung to the girl.
Travis asked a question of his own. "I know that they can bring a caller part way into this mountain, for this very day I saw its effect upon the maiden. But there are many places in the hills well set for ambushes, and those unaffected by the machine could be waiting there. Would there be many machines so that they could send out again and again?" Menlik's bony hand played with his wand.
Travis' "at once" stretched into night hours filled with scrambling over rocks, and an early morning of preparations, with always the threat that the helicopter might not return to fly its circling mission over the scene of operations. All they had was Menlik's assurance that while any party of the Red overlords was away from their well-defended base, the flyer did just that.
Menlik's bush fire was performing well and the flyer was heading straight for it. The machine buzzed the smoke once, too high for the Apaches to trust raying its blades. Then the pilot came back in a lower sweep which carried him only yards above the smoldering brush, on a level with the snipers. Travis pressed the button on the barrel, his target the fast-whirling blades.
His only chance was to establish himself as an equal and then try to convince them that Apache and Tatar-Mongol had a common cause against the Reds who controlled the settlement on the northern plains. Menlik's right hand went to his sash-girdle and plucked out a carved stick which he waved between them, muttering phrases Travis could not understand.
He was right, of course. And they would have to face the truth squarely. To both Apache and Mongol any off-world ship, no matter from which side, would be a menace. Here was where they would remain and set roots. The sooner they began thinking of themselves as people with a common bond, the better it would be. And Menlik's suggestion provided a tie. "You speak well," Buck was saying.
Word Of The Day