goal against the morning sky. Though Ross's sense of direction was not
too acute, he was certain that they were making for the general vicinity
of the hidden village, which he believed the ship people had destroyed.
He tried to discover something of the nature of the contact which had
been made between the aliens and the horsemen.

"How find other chief?" he asked Ennar.

The young man tossed one of his braids back across his shoulder and
turned his head to face Ross squarely. "Your chief come our camp. Talk
with Foscar--two--four sleeps ago."

"How talk with Foscar? With hunter talk?"

For the first time Ennar did not appear altogether certain. He scowled
and then snapped, "He talk--Foscar, us. We hear right words--not woods
creeper talk. He speak to us good."

Ross was puzzled. How could the alien out of time speak the proper
language of a primitive tribe some thousands of years removed from his
own era? Were the ship people also familiar with time travel? Did they
have their own stations of transfer? Yet their fury with the Reds had
been hot. This was a complete mystery.

"This chief--he look like me?"

Again Ennar appeared at a loss. "He wear covering like you."

"But was he like me?" persisted Ross. He didn't know what he was trying
to learn, only that it seemed important at that moment to press home to
at least one of the tribesmen that he _was_ different from the man who
had put a price on his head and to whom he was to be sold.

"Not like!" Tulka spoke over his shoulder. "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. They say burn our camp if we do not give
them man. We say--not have man. Then they say many good things for us if
we find and bring man----"

"But they are not my people," Ross cut in. "You see, I have hair, I am
not like them. They are bad----"

"You may be taken in war by them--chief's slave." Ennar had a reply to
that which was logical according to the customs of his own tribe. "They
want slave back--it is so."

"My people strong too, much magic," Ross pushed. "Take me to bitter
water and they pay much--more than stranger chief!"

Both tribesmen were amuse