ealth more wounded fighting men than he could remember; and his long
familiarity with death and suffering had completely soured his naturally
acid disposition.

The young man placed a hand on the forehead of the sleeping chief,
gratified to find the skin cool and moist. He noticed the compress of
herbs bound in place high up on his father's back, and knew, then, the
spear had not touched a vital spot, that with proper care rapid recovery
would follow.

He moved to Myrdon's side. "Take good care of him, Old One," he said
quietly.

The healer jerked his shoulder from under Tharn's hand. "I do not need
advice from you," he growled, his wrinkled fingers grinding the rock
pestle savagely against the bowl's contents. "If he lives it will be
because I want him to live."

Tharn's grim expression did not change. "Take good care of him," he
repeated evenly. "If he dies--you die!"

Startled, Myrdon raised his head. But Tharn had turned away and was
striding toward the exit.

At the foot of the cliff he found Barkoo and Korgul and Torbat talking
with a group of warriors. The son of the chief shouldered his way to the
center. Darkness had come while he had been aloft and the only light
came from two resinous flares.

In silence they looked at Tharn's set face. He was aware that they were
regarding him strangely--almost expectantly. They seemed to sense that
the carefree boy they had known was gone--replaced by a young warrior.

"Which way," demanded Tharn, "did they go?"

A tall, thin warrior with a bloody scratch across his forehead replied:
"When they saw they could not gain the caves, they fell back. After they
had disappeared among the trees, I followed for a time. Their path led
into the south along the trail where we slew Pandor, the elephant, two
suns ago."

Barkoo rubbed a hand thoughtfully across his smooth-scraped chin. "When
Dyta comes again," he said, "we will start after them."

Tharn's mouth hardened. "You can wait for Dyta if you wish," he said
slowly. "I am going after them now. They had no quarrel with us, but
many of my friends--and yours--are dead. They killed Dartoog. They tried
to kill my father. I am not going to wait."

"What can you hope to do alone, against many?" Barkoo asked in
matter-of-fact tones. "Wait; go with us when it is light. There will be
fighting enough for you then."

Without replying, Tharn stooped and caught up a flint-tipped war-spear.
Then he re-coiled the folds of his gras