he was compelled to take to the thin branches.

Still the chase went on, and still the Folk screeched, beat their
chests, and gnashed their teeth. Then came the end. It was almost
twilight. Trembling, panting, struggling for breath, the Swift One clung
pitiably to a high thin branch. It was thirty feet to the ground, and
nothing intervened. Red-Eye swung back and forth on the branch farther
down. It became a pendulum, swinging wider and wider with every lunge
of his weight. Then he reversed suddenly, just before the downward swing
was completed. Her grips were torn loose, and, screaming, she was hurled
toward the ground.

But she righted herself in mid-air and descended feet first. Ordinarily,
from such a height, the spring in her legs would have eased the shock
of impact with the ground. But she was exhausted. She could not exercise
this spring. Her legs gave under her, having only partly met the shock,
and she crashed on over on her side. This, as it turned out, did not
injure her, but it did knock the breath from her lungs. She lay helpless
and struggling for air.

Red-Eye rushed upon her and seized her. With his gnarly fingers twisted
into the hair of her head, he stood up and roared in triumph and
defiance at the awed Folk that watched from the trees. Then it was that
I went mad. Caution was thrown to the winds; forgotten was the will to
live of my flesh. Even as Red-Eye roared, from behind I dashed upon him.
So unexpected was my charge that I knocked him off his feet. I twined
my arms and legs around him and strove to hold him down. This would have
been impossible to accomplish had he not held tightly with one hand to
the Swift One's hair.

Encouraged by my conduct, Big-Face became a sudden ally. He charged in,
sank his teeth in Red-Eye's arm, and ripped and tore at his face. This
was the time for the rest of the Folk to have joined in. It was the
chance to do for Red-Eye for all time. But they remained afraid in the
trees.

It was inevitable that Red-Eye should win in the struggle against the
two of us. The reason he did not finish us off immediately was that the
Swift One clogged his movements. She had regained her breath and was
beginning to resist. He would not release his clutch on her hair, and
this handicapped him. He got a grip on my arm. It was the beginning of
the end for me. He began to draw me toward him into a position where
he could sink his teeth into my throat. His mouth was open, and he was