ow-leg type, but as tall as Bawr himself, and in
color almost black. This giant and Mawg, refusing to be awed by the
tremendous phenomenon of the fire, went leaping along the lines of
their followers, urging them forward, and pointing out that their
enemies stood close beside the flames and took no hurt.

On the front ranks themselves this reasoning seemed, at first, to
produce little effect. But to those just behind it appeared more
cogent, seconded as it was by a consuming curiosity. Moreover, the
masses in the rear were rolling down, and their pressure presently
became irresistible. All at once the front ranks realized that they
had no choice in the matter. They sagged forward, surged obstinately
back again, then gave like a bursting dam and poured, yelling and
leaping, straight onward toward the crescent of fires.

As soon as the rush was fairly begun, both Mawg and the Black Chief
cleverly extricated themselves from it, running aside to the higher,
broken ground at the left of the plateau whence they could see and
direct the attack. It was plain enough that they accounted the front
ranks doomed, and were depending on sheer weight of numbers for the
inevitable victory.

Standing grim, silent, immovable between their fires, the Chief and
Grom awaited the dreadful onset. In all the tribe not a voice was
raised, not a fighter, man or woman, quailed. But many hearts stood
still, for it looked as if that living flood could never be stayed.
Presently from all along its front came a cloud of spears. But they
fell short, not more than half a dozen reaching the edge of the
plateau. In instant response came a deep-chested shout from Bawr,
followed by a discharge of spears from behind the line of fire.

These spears, driven with free arm and practised skill, went clean
home in the packed ranks of the foe, but they caused no more than a
second's wavering, as the dead went down and their fellows crowded on
straight over them. A second volley from the grimly silent fighters on
the plateau had somewhat more effect. Driven low, and at shorter
range, every jagged flint-point found its mark, and the screaming
victims hampered those behind. But after a moment the mad flood came
on again, till it was within some thirty paces of the edge of the
plateau.

Then came a long shout from Grom, a signal which had been anxiously
awaited by the front line of his fighters. Each fire had been laid, on
the inner side, with dry faggots of a re