a whirring
beat of wings and flew deeper inland.

Not far to their right was the entrance to a narrow deep-worn game trail
leading into tangled mazes of brush, creeper, vine and trees. It was
toward this trail that Urb turned his footsteps, motioning for his
companions to follow.

"Here is food enough," he exulted. "If we can find caves in those hills,
we will go back to fetch the rest of our people."

In silence the six frightful, man-like creatures faded into the black
shadows of the overhanging forest, their goal the towering heights at
the far end of this plateau.

And directly between them and their objective lay Sephar, mysterious
city of an unknown race.

* * * * *

Dylara lay face down on a broad branch, her head pillowed on a heap of
moss, biting her lips to keep back tears of bitter anguish. The swollen
ankle throbbed steadily, its pain almost unbearable.

And she had been so close to freedom! From her place high in the tree
she could see the stone walls of Rydob's dwelling, evil and grim in the
sun. Behind those walls lay the dead body of Meltor, slain by his own
knife.

She felt no regret for having killed him. It had been his life--or hers.
When he had lunged across the table in an attempt to stab her, she,
acting by instinct rather than thought, had thrust her weight against
the table. Meltor, off balance, went over backwards, his head striking
hard against the floor. Before he could regain his wits Dylara had torn
the knife from his hand. He cried out once in mortal fear as the blade
swung high, flung up a futile hand to ward off the blow, and died as
polished flint pierced his heart.

No--she felt no regret for having killed him. What she did regret was
the mad impulse that had sent her running blindly into the open air. So
anxious had she been to flee that horrible place that she had no eyes
for what lay in her path. As a result, one heel had trod full on the
whitened skull of Rydob the hermit. Dylara's ankle had twisted beneath
her, pitching her headlong into a tangle of vines at the base of the
steps.

She was up at once; but the injured ankle buckled under her weight and
she had fallen again, crying out in agony.

For a little while she had remained there, stroking the injured member,
already swollen and turning blue. Finally she got to her hands and knees
and, with many pauses, crawled toward the trees ringing the clearing.

How she managed to clamber