m to wait. But he was not sure of
their obedience. The foray was a crazy idea, and Shann wondered again
why he had agreed to it. Yet he had gone along with Thorvald, even
suggested a few modifications and additions of his own, such as the
contents of the crude leaf sack now resting between his knees.

Thorvald flitted away, seeking his own post to the west. Shann was still
waiting for the other's signal when there arose from the camp a sound to
chill the flesh of any listener, a wail which could not have come from
the throat of any normal living thing, intelligent being or animal.
Ululating in ear-torturing intensity, the cry sank to a faint, ominous
echo of itself, to waver up the scale again.

The wolverines went mad. Shann had witnessed their quick kills in the
wilds, but this stark ferocity of spitting, howling rage was new. They
answered that challenge from the camp, streaking out from under his
hands. Yet both animals skidded to a stop before they passed the first
dome and were lost in the gloom. A spark glowed for an instant to his
right; Thorvald was ready to go, so Shann had no time to try and recall
the animals.

He fumbled for those balls of soaked moss in his leaf bag. The chemical
smell from them blotted out that alien mustiness which the wind brought
from the campsite. Shann readied the first sopping mess in his sling,
snapped his fire sparker at it, and had the ball awhirl for a toss
almost in one continuous movement. The moss burst into fire as it curved
out and fell.

To a witness it might have seemed that the missile materialized out of
the air, the effect being better than Shann had hoped.

A second ball for the sling--spark ... out ... down. The first had
smashed on the ground near the dome of the com station, the force of
impact flattening it into a round splatter of now fiercely burning
material. And his second, carefully aimed, lit two feet beyond.

Another wail tearing at the nerves. Shann made a third throw, a fourth.
He had an audience now. In the light of those pools of fire the Throgs
were scuttling back and forth, their hunched bodies casting weird
shadows on the dome walls. They were making efforts to douse the fires,
but Shann knew from careful experimentation that once ignited the stuff
he had skimmed from the lip of one of the hot springs would go on
burning as long as a fraction of its viscid substance remained
unconsumed.

Now Thorvald had gone into action. A Throg suddenly hal