ht. Look, there must be quite a few hillmen in this
city. I should think you'd know quite a number of them."

"Yes, I do, of course." Korentona smiled. "We don't exactly form a
closed group, but ... well, I'll have to admit we do think a little
differently from the plainsmen."

"I know." Don reached into his jacket and slowly withdrew a stick with
a thong wrapped around it.

"Many of your friends carry these?"

The merchant laughed. "Certainly!" He produced a polished stick of his
own.

"Can you imagine any clansman without this sling?"

Don looked at him speculatively. "I wonder," he said casually, "what
would happen if these young toughs found themselves being hunted down
by ... say ten or fifteen blood hungry clansmen. Might worry them a
little, wouldn't you think?"

Korentona shook his head doubtfully. "You know what the situation is
here in Riandar," he remarked. "The police don't worry too much about
these robberies and beatings. But they'd be pretty perturbed if someone
started hunting the hunters."

"That's what I mean." Don spread his hands. "Might even get the people
watching the Waern place upset and nervous." He shrugged. "And who's to
know what caused the uproar, or who's involved? After all, all the
clansmen were at home. The watchers on their houses could testify to
that."

Korentona looked at him curiously. "Interesting idea, at that, you
know." He got to his feet. "Suppose we talk it over for a while."

* * * * *

Maurie VanSickle crouched behind a bush, watching the path. This, he
thought, was getting old. It had been a lot of fun at first.
Profitable, too. He thought with amusement of the old man who had
scrambled about in the dirt that first night. Boy, what a beat jerk
he'd been. And what a beautiful job Gerry had done on him. Clipped the
stupid yokel so hard he didn't make a sound when he went down.

Then he and Walt had come in. Man, how the old guy had wriggled! He
looked down the path.

Now, though? Phooey! Not a lousy person on the path all evening. He'd
tried to tell Gerry they were on a loser. Park was all worked out for a
few weeks. But the stubborn clown wouldn't listen. Kept insisting they
try it a couple more nights. Maurie reached into his pocket.

"Better make a strike pretty soon," he muttered to himself. "The old
cash bag's getting empty." He stretched, then tensed. There were
footsteps on the path.

This one was his!

Sile