Hawaikans, their bare dark bodies easily identifiable. But
the third--Ashe! Ross almost shouted his name aloud.

The Terran stumbled along and there was a bandage above his knee. He had
been stripped to his swimming trunks, all his equipment taken from him.
There was a dark bruise on his left temple, the angry weal of a lash
mark on neck and shoulder.

Ross's hands clenched. Never in his life had he so desperately wanted a
weapon as he did at that moment. To spray the company below with a
machine gun would have given him great satisfaction. But he had nothing
but the knife in his belt and he was as cut off from Ashe as if they
were in separate cells of some prison.

The caution which had been one of his inborn gifts and which had been
fostered by his training, clamped down on his first wild desire for
action. There was not the slightest chance of his doing Ashe any good at
the present. But he had this much--he knew that Gordon was alive and
that he was in the aliens' hands. Faced by those facts Ross could plan
his own moves.

The Foanna chant began again, and the three prisoners moved; the two
Hawaikans turned, set themselves on either side of Ashe, and gave him
support. Their actions had a mechanical quality as if they were directed
by a will beyond their own. Ashe gazed about him at the Wreckers and the
robed figures. His awareness of them both suggested to Ross that if the
natives had come under the control of the Foanna, the Terran resisted
their influence. But Ashe did not try to escape the assistance of his
two fellow prisoners, and he limped with their aid back down the hall,
following the Foanna.

Ross deduced that the captives had been transferred from the lord of the
castle to the Foanna. Which meant Ashe was on his way to another
destination. The Terran was on his feet and headed back, intent on
returning to the sea cave and starting out after Ashe as soon as he
could.

"You have found Gordon!" Karara read his news from his face.

"The Wreckers had him prisoner. Now they've turned him over to the
Foanna--"

"What will _they_ do with him?" the girl demanded of Loketh.

His answer came roundabout as usual as the native squatted by the
analyzer and clicked his answer into it.

"They have claimed the wreck survivors for tribute. Your companion will
be witches' meat."

"Witches' meat?" repeated Ross, uncomprehending.

Then Karara drew a gagged breath which was a gasp of horror.

"Sacrifice! Ross,