The big hunter sensed men behind him, and leaped forward. The dark man looked surprised, and slid backwards off his mount just in time to escape the clutch of Yorgh's big hands on his leg. Two bodies thudded into Yorgh from the rear, pinning him momentarily against the animal. Then the wolly sidestepped and Yorgh reached around to grasp the men holding him. Raydowers from the mountains, he thought, and swung them off balance, around in front of him, and together with a soggy crunch. Then he dropped them. The man in the fur cap was just bouncing to his feet, the wolly having shuffled over his head. Yorgh snarled and drove at him, pulling out his bronze knife. More men came from behind, not in time to stop him, but in time for one to hang on his arm. The dark man swung the butt of the spear, and it cracked on the side of Yorgh's skull. When he came to, all he could see was long, oily wool. He squirmed, and found that he was tied face down across a wolly. Someone was telling someone else to be careful about kicking dirt over the fire. Twisting his head, Yorgh found that he could see the fire, and some of the mountain men sitting their wollies beyond it. Vaneen was among them, not bound, but looking disheveled and resentful. "Ah, coming around?" asked a voice. The legs of a wolly moved into Yorgh's sight. "I am Ueln, of the Raydower tribe," said the man in the fur cap. "I didn't expect you back so soon. You have a hard head." Yorgh looked up at him painfully and grunted. "We are going over to the brook to water the wollies," said Ueln, "and to attend to other things before we start for the mountains. If you behave I will let you ride in the saddle." "All right," said Yorgh, feeling he ought to make some answer to disguise the fact that he was not yet thinking very clearly. "You promise not to try to ride away?" "Where would I ride to?" grumbled the hunter. As soon as he realized the explanation _that_ remark would entail, he wished he had remained silent. Further questioning, however, was forestalled by a cry from the man at the fire. He ran to Ueln, holding up a gleaming object. "What's this?" asked the Raydower leader. Yorgh grimaced, and let his head drop. "Keep it," he said. "I make you a gift of it." Ueln hesitated. He moved his wolly forward a pace to call to Vaneen. "It's his good luck charm," said the girl sourly. "So?" Ueln hefted the metal cylinder in his hand thoughtfully. "What kind of luck has he been having?" When no one answered him, Ueln leaned back, tossed a leg over the wolly's front shoulders, and slid gracefully to the ground as if to search the fire more thoroughly. Unfortunately, his foot landed upon a thick piece of dust-covered fat discarded from the roast of the night before. Yorgh looked up to see the Raydower sitting on the ground with much the same expression as when the hunter had lunged at him. This time, he held the metal stick instead of Yorgh's spear.