ed, and then a head came briefly peeping up out of the
pit. A head under a green hood. Raud chuckled mirthlessly into his
beard. If he'd been doing that, he'd have traded hoods with the dead
man before shoving up his body to draw fire. This kept up, at
intervals, for about an hour. He was wondering if they would stay in
the pit until dark.

Then Vahr Farg's son leaped out of the pit and began running across
the snow. He had his pack, and his rifle; he ran, zig-zag, almost
directly toward where Raud was lying. Raud laughed, this time in real
amusement. The Southrons had chased Vahr out, as a buck will chase his
does in front of him when he thinks there is danger in front. If Vahr
wasn't shot, it would be safe for them to come out. If he was, it
would be no loss, and the price of the Crown would only have to be
divided in two, rather than three, shares. Vahr came to within two
hundred yards of Raud's unseen rifle, and then dropped his pack and
flung himself down behind it, covering the ridge with his rifle.

Minutes passed, and then the Southron in yellow came out and ran
forward. He had the bearskin bundle on his pack; he ran to where Vahr
lay, added his pack to Vahr's, and lay down behind it. Raud chewed his
underlip in vexation. This wasn't the way he wanted it; that fellow
had a negatron pistol, and he was close enough to use it effectively.
And he was sheltered behind the Crown; Raud was afraid to shoot. He
didn't miss what he shot at--often. But no man alive could say that he
never missed.

The other Southron, the one in blue with the autoloading rifle, came
out and advanced slowly, his weapon at the ready. Raud tensed himself
to jump, aimed carefully, and waited. When the man in blue was a
hundred yards from the pit, he shot him dead. The rifle was still
lifting from the recoil when he sprang to his feet, turned, and ran.
Before he was twenty feet away, the place where he had been exploded;
the force of the blast almost knocked him down, and steam blew past
and ahead of him. Ignoring his pack and ice-staff, he ran on, calling
to Brave to follow. The dog obeyed instantly; more negatron-blasts
were thundering and blazing and steaming on the crest of the ridge. He
swerved left, ran up another slope, and slid down the declivity
beyond into the ravine on the other side.

There he paused to eject the empty, make sure that there was no snow
in the rifle bore, and reload. The blasting had stopped by then; after
a mome