today have no evidence to the contrary.

There are authorities who insist no finer specimen of humankind ever
existed than the Cro-Magnard. Whether or not this is true, does not
alter the fact that he was able to carve a secure niche in a savage and
implacable world, and, at the same time, place the feet of his
descendants on the path to civilization and a more sheltered life.--Ed.]

And so the three men slipped forward, a long spear trailing in each
right hand, their only guide the keen ears this primitive life had
developed.

One of the three, a stocky man with a square, strong face and heavily
muscled body, deep-tanned, paused to adjust his grasp on the
stone-tipped spear he carried. As he did so there was a quick stir in
the tangled grasses near his hand and Sleeza, the snake, struck savagely
at his fingers.

With a startled, involuntary shout, the man jerked away, barely avoiding
the deadly fangs. And then he snatched the flint knife from his
loin-cloth and plunged it fiercely again and again into Sleeza's
threshing body.

When finally he stopped, the mottled coils were limp in death. He saw
then that his companions were standing erect, staring to the west.

From his sitting position he looked up at the others.

"Neela--?" he began.

"--has fled," finished one of the hunters. "He heard you quarreling with
Sleeza. We cannot catch him, now."

The third man grinned. "Next time, Barkoo, let Sleeza bite you. While
you may die, at least our food will not run away!"

Ignoring the grim attempt at humor, Barkoo scrambled to his feet and
watched, in helpless rage, the bobbing heads and flying legs of Neela
and his flock, now far away.

Barkoo swore mightily. "And it's too late to hunt further," he growled.
"As it is, darkness will come before we reach the caves of Tharn. To
return empty-handed besides--" One of his companions suddenly caught
Barkoo by the arm. "Look!" he cried, pointing toward the west.

* * * * *

A young man, clad only in an animal skin about his middle, had leaped
from a clump of grasses less than twenty yards from the fleeing herd. In
one hand was a long war-spear held aloft as he swooped toward them.

Instantly the herd turned aside and with a fresh burst of speed sought
to out-run this new danger.

"Look at him run!" Barkoo shouted.

With the speed of a charging lion the youth was covering the ground in
mighty bounds, slanting rapidly up to the racing