were still
latched to their belts and they made no move to draw them in spite of
the very patent hostility of the guards before them.

Blue cloak halted some three feet from the guards. The sea wind pulled
at the cloak, wrapping it about the body beneath. But even so, the
wearer remained well hidden. From under a flapping edge came a hand. The
fingers, long and slender, were curled about an ivory-colored wand which
ended in a knob. Sparks flashed from it in a continuous flickering.

Ross clapped his hand to his belt. To his complete amazement the sonic
disk he wore was reacting to those flashes, pricking sharply in perfect
beat to their blink-blink. The Terran cupped his scarred fingers over
the disk as he waited to see what was going to happen, wondering if the
holder of that wand might, in return, pick up the broadcast of the code
set on Ashe's call.

The hand clasping the wand was not dusky-skinned but had much of the
same ivory shade as the rod, so that to Ross the meeting between flesh
and wand was hardly distinguishable. Now by one firm thrust the hand
planted the rod into the sand, leaving it to stand sentinel between the
two parties.

Retreating a step or two, the red-clad guards gave ground. But they did
not reclasp their swords. Their attitude, Ross judged, was that of men
in some awe of their opponent, but men urged to defiance, either by a
belief in the righteousness of their cause, or strengthened by an old
hatred.

Now the cloaked one began to speak--or was that speech? Certainly the
flow of sound had little in common with the clicking tongue Ross had
caught earlier. This trill of notes possessed the rise and fall of a
chant or song which could have been a formula of greeting--or a warning.
And the lines of warriors escorting the chanter stood to attention,
their weapons still undrawn.

Ross caught his lower lip between his teeth and bit down on it. That
chanting--it crawled into the mind, set up a pattern! He shook his head
vigorously and then was shocked by that recklessness. Not that any of
those on shore had glanced in his direction.

The chant ended on a high, broken note. It was followed by a moment of
silence through which sounded only the wind and the beat of wave.

Then one of the laborers flung up his head and clicked a word or two. He
and his fellows fell face down on the beach, cupping their hands to pour
sand over their unkempt heads. One of the guards turned with a sharp
yell to bo