ly off, as if a door had been closed. In
silence the three hurried up the ramp. Then, as through a curtain, they
came into the light of Tav.

Thrala let fall her drab cloak, stood with arms outstretched in the
crater land. Her sparkling robe sheathed her in glory and she sang
softly, rapt in her own delight. Then Dandtan put his arm about her; she
clung to him, staring about as might a beauty-bewildered child.

Garin wondered dully how he would be able to make the journey back to
the Caverns when his arm and shoulder were eaten with a consuming fire.
The Ana crept closer to him, peering into his white face.

They were aroused by a howl from the Caves. Thrala cried out and Dandtan
answered her unspoken question. "They have set the morgels on our
trail!"

The howl from the Caves was echoed from the forest. Morgels before and
behind them! Garin might set himself against one, Dandtan another, and
Thrala could defend herself with the rod, but in the end the pack would
kill them.

"We shall claim protection from the Gibi of the cliff. By the law they
must give us aid," said Thrala, as, turning up her long robe, she began
to run lightly. Garin picked up her cloak and drew it across his
shoulder to hide his welts. When he could no longer hold her pace she
must not guess the reason for his falling behind.

Of that flight through the forest the flyer afterward remembered little.
At last the gurgle of water broke upon his pounding ears, as he stumbled
along a good ten lengths behind his companions. They had come to the
edge of the wood along the banks of the river.

Without hesitation Thrala and Dandtan plunged into the oily flood,
swimming easily for the other side. Garin dropped the cloak, wondering
if, once he stepped into the yellow stream, he would ever be able to
struggle out again. Already the Ana was in, paddling in circles near the
shore and pleading with him to follow. Wearily Garin waded out.

The water, which washed the blood and sweat from his aching body, was
faintly brackish and stung his wounds to life. He could not fight the
sluggish current and it bore him downstream, well away from where the
others landed.

But at last he managed to win free, crawling out near where a smaller
stream joined the river. There he lay panting, face down upon the moss.
And there they found him, water dripping from his bedraggled finery, the
Ana stroking his muddied hair. Thrala cried out with concern and
pillowed his head o