now." Her voice was so muted he could hardly distinguish the words.
"My people live in two times, and many do not realize that."

Tsoay had crouched down beside them to listen. Now he put out his hand,
touching Travis' shoulder.

"Redax?"

"Or its like." For Travis was sure of one point. The project, which had
been training three teams for space colonization--one of Eskimos, one of
Pacific Islanders, and one of his own Apaches--had no reason or chance
to select Mongols from the wild past of the raiding Hordes. There was
only one nation on Terra which could have picked such colonists.

"You are Russian." He studied her carefully, intent on noting the effect
of his words.

But she did not lose that lost look. "Russian ... Russian ..." she
repeated, as if the very word was strange.

Travis was alarmed. Any Russian colony planted here could well possess
technicians with machines capable of tracking a fugitive, and if
mountain heights were protection against such a hunt, he intended to
gain them, even by night traveling. He said this to Tsoay, and the other
emphatically agreed.

"The horse is too lame to go on," the younger man reported.

Travis hesitated for a long second. Since the time they had stolen their
first mounts from the encroaching Spanish, horses had always been wealth
to his people. To leave an animal which could well serve the clan was
not right. But they dared not waste time with a lame beast.

"Leave it here, free," he ordered.

"And the woman?"

"She goes with us. We must learn all we can of these people and what
they do here. Listen, Wolf Daughter," again Travis leaned close to make
sure she was listening to him as he spoke with emphasis--"you will
travel with us into these high places, and there will be no trouble from
you." He drew his knife and held the blade warningly before her eyes.

"It was already in my mind to go to the mountains," she told him evenly.
"Untie my hands, brave warrior, you have surely nothing to fear from a
woman."

His hand made a swift sweep and plucked a knife as long and keen as his
from the folds of the sash beneath her loose outer garment.

"Not now, Wolf Daughter, since I have drawn your fangs."

He helped her to her feet and slashed the cord about her wrists with her
knife, which he then fastened to his own belt. Alerting the coyotes, he
dispatched them ahead; and the three started on, the Mongol girl between
the two Apaches. The abandoned horse nickered lo