ntil each was fully armed. This done
he barked out an order and the men formed into ranks, four abreast and
five deep.

His hawk-like face set in stern lines, Vulcar faced them. "Warriors of
Sephar," he began, "you know what has happened to the daughter of our
king. You know, too, that five of your comrades died trying to save her.
Most of you knew and admired Adbor. I saw Adbor die. He died while
calling for his weapons, eager to take up the trail of those who had
stolen the princess.

"To you goes the honor of avenging your comrades and returning the
princess to her father, alive ... or dead."

As the calm voice ceased, a score of right arms shot up and a resounding
shout rose from twenty throats.

"Then come," said Vulcar quietly, and turned to lead the way.

But before the men could move to follow him, a deep voice from the
palace doorway bade them wait.

Clothed in the simple harness of an ordinary warrior, and fully armed,
Urim descended the steps and came up to Vulcar.

"I will go with you," he said simply.

Vulcar had been afraid of this. Urim no longer was a young man; to take
him along might cost Sephar a ruler, as well as its favorite daughter.

"O Urim," he said, "may I say a few words to you before we go?...

"My king, trust me and these warriors to find Alurna. They are young and
fully trained. For hours they can press onward so rapidly that anyone
less hardened would drop behind within an hour. To slacken their speed
for one less trained might cost much precious time."

Urim, ready to override any protests, could not help but see the logic
of the words. For several moments he stood with bowed head while impulse
battled with good judgment.

"Take your men and go without me, my friend," he said at last, his voice
unsteady. "I am an old man, and useless. I should only delay you."

He turned and strode back into the palace before the troubled Sepharian
could frame a reply.

Ten minutes later the twenty and one entered the trail that led past the
scene of Alurna's capture the day before.

* * * * *

Half an hour later another band of men filed through the western gates
of Sephar and entered the mouth of the same path. There were eight in
the group: Jotan, Javan and Tamar with five of the warriors who had come
with them on the long journey from Ammad to Sephar. Their destination,
now, was the house of Rydob, and with them was a man adept at following
a spoor, h