ain imprint of the tankette's steel cleats stretched out behind
them in a betraying line. The rigid, unsprung track left its mark on
hard stone as easily as it did in soft earth. The wonder was that the
tracks had not quite worn themselves out as yet, though all the rivets
were badly strained and the tankette sounded like a barrel of stones
tumbling downhill.

The Barbarian had spent the night with one arm thrown over the cannon
barrel and the fingers of his other hand hooked over the edge of the
turret hatch. In spite of the tankette's vicious jouncing, he had not
moved or changed his position. Now he raised one hand to comb the shaggy
hair away from his forehead, and there were faint bloody marks on the
hatch.

"How much farther until we're over the mountains?" Geoffrey asked him.

"Over the--lad, we haven't even come to the beginning of them yet."

Geoffrey grimaced. "Then we'll never make it. Not in this vehicle."

"I didn't expect to. We'll walk until we reach the pass. I've got a
support camp set up there."

"Walk? This is impossible country for people on foot. There are
intransigent tribesmen all through this territory."

"How do you know?"

"How do I _know_? Why, everybody knows about them!"

The Barbarian looked at him thoughtfully, and with just the faintest
trace of amusement. "Well, if _everybody_ knows they're intransigent, I
guess they are. I guess we'll just have to hope they don't spot us."

Geoffrey was a little nettled by The Barbarian's manner. It wasn't,
after all, as if anybody claimed there were dragons or monsters or any
other such oceanic thing living here. This was good, solid fact--people
had actually come up here, tried to bring civilization to the tribes,
and failed completely. They were, by all reports, hairy, dirty people
equipped with accurate rifles. No one had bothered to press the issue,
because obviously it was hardly worth it. Geoffrey had expected to have
trouble with them--but he had expected to meet it in an armored vehicle.
But now that the mountains had turned out to be so far away, the
situation might grow quite serious. And The Barbarian didn't seem to
care very much.

"Well, now, lad," he was saying, "if the tribesmen're that bad, maybe
your friends the nobles won't dare follow us up here."

"They'll follow us," Geoffrey answered flatly. "I slapped Dugald's
face."

"Oh. Oh, I didn't understand that. Code of honor--that sort of thing.
All the civilized appurtena