ped at a spring for a drink and some
rest, whether their haranguing showed the Agvars were sorry they hadn't
taught him their language. Probably not, he decided; probably they
didn't want to think he could have learned it.

He'd tried, in the absence of lessons, by repeating what he heard around
him. He'd learned a few words, of course. And for a while, a couple of
villagers had seemed to enjoy and encourage his parrot-like attempts to
recite whole sentences they voiced for him. But after a few beatings,
Chet gathered that he'd only been mouthing obscenities. And that
experience, plus inertia, had made him give up the attempt.

Just as well, he now decided. If they'd known of his technical skills,
if they'd let him raise their standards, the Agvars might be carrying
bows and arrows, instead of mere slings and sticks.

Their hard luck! What they didn't know, they'd never learn from him! The
mere presence of a spaceship on the same planet gave him a buoyant
feeling of contempt.

But though contempt helped him endure that journey through the tall
mosses and taller trees, it couldn't ward off exhaustion. When the party
stopped at the foot of a sheer rock spire that rose four or five hundred
feet above the tallest growth, he collapsed and slept.

* * * * *

They woke him in the pre-dawn twilight and another group of Agvars took
over. These--there were only three--looked older than the familiar
villagers. And they'd smeared their faces with bands of red and yellow
mud. He wondered....

He stopped wondering when they passed a pile of bones at the base of the
spire. Among the grisly relics were skulls--brow-ridged, pointed,
unmistakably Agvar. Sacrifices!

He was to be killed, then, to propitiate his own rescuers. His three
guides--or guards--must be witch-doctors! He let them drag him along
while he thought about it.

They'd give him no breakfast, not even water. If they'd eaten
themselves, it was while he still slept. The scraps, if any, hadn't been
flung in his face, and there'd been no smooth post to lick the dew from.

Hunger and thirst were nothing new, but neither was the resulting
lethargy. Realizing his danger, Chet could only hang back.

Today though that was an old stall; the witch-doctors seemed to expect
it. They broke branches from the trees and beat him till he bled. And
when the climb up the rocks began, they put one of their number behind
him to push, set the other tw