dock was tempted to make a sudden dash out on the point of the bank
and dive into the river, but it was already too late. The man who was
holding the spear had moved behind him, and Ross's wrist, held in a vise
grip at the small of his back, kept him prisoner as he was pushed on
into the meadow. There three shaggy horses grazed, their nose ropes
gathered into the hands of a third man.

A sharp stone half buried in the ground changed the pattern of the day.
Ross's heel scraped against it, and the resulting pain triggered his
rebellion into explosion. He threw himself backward, his bruised heel
sliding between the feet of his captor, bringing them both to the ground
with himself on top. The other expelled air from his lungs in a grunt
of surprise, and Ross whipped over, one hand grasping the hilt of the
tribesman's dagger while the other, free of that prisoning wrist-lock,
chopped at the fellow's throat.

Dagger out and ready, Ross faced the men in a half crouch as he had been
drilled. They stared at him in open-mouthed amazement, then too late the
spears went up. Ross placed the point of his looted weapon at the throat
of the now quiet man by whom he knelt, and he spoke the language he had
learned from Ulffa's people.

"You strike--this one dies."

They must have read the determined purpose in his eyes, for slowly,
reluctantly, the spears went down. Having gained so much of a victory,
Ross dared more. "Take--" he motioned to the waiting horses--"take and
go!"

For a moment he thought that this time they would meet his challenge,
but he continued to hold the dagger above the brown throat of the man
who was now moaning faintly. His threat continued to register, for the
other man shrugged the suit from his arm, left it lying on the ground,
and retreated. Holding the nose rope of his horse, he mounted, waved the
herder up also, and both of them rode slowly away.

The prisoner was slowly coming around, so Ross only had time to pull on
the suit; he had not even fastened the breast studs before those blue
eyes opened. A sunburned hand flashed to a belt, but the dagger and ax
which had once hung there were now in Ross's possession. He watched the
tribesman carefully as he finished dressing.

"What you do?" The words were in the speech of the forest people,
distorted by a new accent.

"You go--" Ross pointed to the third horse the others had left
behind--"I go--" he indicated the river--"I take these"--he patted the
dag