to pull the head into a patch of
clearer light.

In his grasp that hair came loose, a braid unwinding. He grunted as he
looked down into the stranger's face. Dust marks were streaked now with
tear runnels, but the gray eyes which turned fiercely on him said that
their owner cried more in rage than fear.

His captive might be wearing long trousers tucked into curved, toed
boots, and a loose overblouse, but she was certainly not only a woman,
but a very young and attractive one. Also, at the present moment, an
exceedingly angry one. And behind that anger was fear, the fear of one
fighting hopelessly against insurmountable odds. But as she eyed Travis
now her expression changed.

He felt she had expected another captor altogether and was astounded at
the sight of him. Her tongue touched her lips, moistening them, and now
the fear in her was another kind--the wary fear of one facing a totally
new and perhaps dangerous thing.

"Who are you?" Travis spoke in English, for he had no doubts that she
was Terran.

Now she sucked in her breath with a gasp of pure astonishment.

"Who are _you_?" she parroted his question in a marked accent. English
was not her native tongue, he was sure.

Travis reached out, and again his hands closed on her shoulders. She
started to twist and then realized he was merely pulling her up to a
sitting position. Some of the fear had left her eyes, an intent interest
taking its place.

"You are not Sons of the Blue Wolf," she stated in her heavily accented
speech.

Travis smiled. "I am the Fox, not the Wolf," he returned. "And the
Coyote is my brother." He snapped his fingers at the shadows, and the
two animals came noiselessly into sight. Her gaze widened even more at
Naginlta and Nalik'ideyu, and she deduced the bond which must exist
between her captor and the beasts.

"This woman is also of our world." Tsoay spoke in Apache, looking over
their prisoner with frank interest. "Only she is not of the People."

Sons of the Blue Wolf? Travis thought again of the embroidery designs on
the jacket. Who had called themselves by that picturesque
title--where--and when in time?

"What do you fear, Daughter of the Blue Wolf?" he asked.

And with that question he seemed to touch some button activating terror.
She flung back her head so that she could see the darkening sky.

"The flyer!" Her voice was muted as if more than a whisper would carry
to the stars just coming into brilliance above them. "