rush lands along the foot of the cliffs gave way
to open fields, bare except for the grass rippled by the wind. It was
not the type of country to attract the night runners, and Dalgard
wondered a little. They should discover water, preferably a shallow
stream, if they wanted to find what the monkey creatures liked best.

Within a quarter-hour he knew that Sssuri was not going wrong. Cradled
in a sudden dip in the land was the stream Dalgard had been looking
for. A hopper lifted a dripping muzzle from the shore ripples and
stared at them. Dalgard contacted the animal. It was its usual curious
self, nothing had alarmed or excited its interest. And he did not try
to establish more than a casual contact as they made their way down
the bank to the edge of the stream, Sssuri splashing in ankle-deep for
the sheer pleasure of feeling liquid curl about his feet and legs once
more.

Water dwellers fled from their passing and insects buzzed and hovered.
Otherwise they moved through a deserted world. The stream bed widened
and small islands of gravel, swept together in untidy piles by the
spring floods, arose dry topped, some already showing the green of
venturesome plants.

"Here--" Sssuri stopped, thrusting the butt of his spear into the
shore of one such islet. He dropped cross-legged on his choice, there
to remain patiently until those he sought would come with the dark.
Dalgard withdrew a little way downstream and took up a similar post.
The runners were shy, not easy to approach. And they would come more
readily if Sssuri were alone.

Here the murmur of the stream was loud, rising above the rustle of the
wind-driven grass. And the night was coming fast as the sun, hidden by
the cliff wall, sank into the sea. Dalgard, knowing that his night
sight was far inferior to that of the native Astran fauna, resignedly
settled himself for an all-night stay, not without a second regretful
memory of the snug camp by the shore.

Twilight and then night. How long before the runners would make their
appearance? He could pick up the sparks of thought which marked the
coming and going of hoppers, most hurrying off to their mud-plastered
nests, and sometimes a flicker from the mind of some other night
creature. Once he was sure he touched the avid, raging hunger which
marked a flying dragon, though they were not naturally hunters by
darkness.

Dalgard made no move to contact Sssuri. The merman must be left
undisturbed in his mental ques