angling nose rope, bringing the runaway against his
own steady steed. Ross shaken, still coughing from the smoke and unable
to sit upright, held to the mane. The gallop slowed to a rocking pace
and finally came to a halt, both horses blowing, white-foam patches on
their chests and their riders' legs.

Having made his capture, the tribesman seemed indifferent to Ross,
looking back instead at the wide curtain of grass smoke, frowning as he
studied the swift spread of the fire. Muttering to himself, he pulled
the lead rope and brought Ross's horse to follow in the direction from
which Ennar had brought the captive less than a half hour earlier.

Ross tried to think. The unexpected death of their chief might well mean
his own, should the tribe's desire for vengeance now be aroused. On the
other hand, there was a faint chance that he could now better impress
them with the thought that he was indeed of another clan and that to aid
him would be to work against a common enemy.

But it was hard to plan clearly, though wits alone could save him now.
The parley which had ended with Foscar's murder had brought Ross a small
measure of time. He was still a captive, even though of the tribesmen
and not the unearthly strangers. Perhaps to the ship people these
primitives were hardly higher in scale than the forest animals.

Ross did not try to talk to his present guard, who towed him into the
western sun of late afternoon. They halted at last in that same small
grove where they had rested at noon. The tribesman fastened the mounts
and then walked around to inspect the animal Ross had ridden. With a
grunt he loosened the prisoner and spilled him unceremoniously on the
ground while he examined the horse. Ross levered himself up to sight the
mark of the burn across that roan hide where the fire had blistered the
skin.

Thick handfuls of mud from the side of the spring were brought and
plastered over the seared strip. Then, having rubbed down both animals
with twists of grass, the man came over to Ross, pushed him back to the
ground, and studied his left leg.

Ross understood. By rights, his thigh should also have been scorched
where the flame had hit, yet he had felt no pain. Now as the tribesman
examined him for a burn, he could not see even the faintest
discoloration of the strange fabric. He remembered how the aliens had
strolled unconcerned through the burning village. As the suit had
insulated him against the cold of the ice, s