"Watch what you're doing!" Blayne growled. But it was too late. The right wheel hit a hidden rock, and the vehicle turned over on its side with a rending crash. Elliot was dazed, but he knew he still had to act fast. He sprang from the overturned jeep, with Blayne behind him. The tree-snake that had caused him to swerve was still coming toward them, its white fangs dripping venom. It sprang forward to strike, but Elliot's hand was faster. He closed his fingers savagely around the reptile's neck. He held the head at arm's length. The snake's twelve-foot body whipped around Elliot's throat and chest, pinning one arm to his side. The rocket pilot felt the dry, loathsome odor of the reptile drifting into his nostrils, and retched. He gasped for air and tightened his fingers on the snake's throat, drawing his hand together as closely as he could. It was a question of which one would hold out longer. Elliot's eyes began to dim. What the hell was that fat fool Blayne doing? "_Blayne!_" he shouted. But Blayne didn't answer. With one desperate surge of power, Elliot clamped his fingers even tighter. Something snapped. The snake gave one convulsive shudder and dropped its lifeless coils from Elliot's body. He stood up, quivering with tension. As the snake hit the ground, a pencil beam seared the air, burning its head off. "That's that," Housten Blayne said in relief. Elliot whirled to face him. "Why the devil did you stand there? It could have killed me. Why didn't you use your knife?" Blayne shrugged. "You were doing all right. Now do something about the car, will you?" Elliot repressed a vivid curse and turned away. The sight of Blayne sickened him, and he wished there were some way of exacting the revenge Blayne merited without forfeiting the cash for the trip. There wasn't. He bent and examined the car. "The front axle's broken," he said, after a moment's scrutiny. "There's nothing much we can do about it out here." "Nothing?" "Not unless you want to lash it together with some twigs," Elliot said acidly. "We can't turn back now," Blayne said. "Start loading your pack. We'll walk the rest of the way. The Dragonbird's lair can't be too far off." The bright glow of lust was shining in the fat man's eyes. Elliot stared at him for a moment, then began packing. * * * * * A day later, they arrived at the banks of the Khathyl River, a swirling, slow-moving, wide stream that wound lazily through most of the continent. Elliot and Blayne kept out of sight in the brush. "Look out there," Elliot said. He pointed at an island a hundred yards off shore. "What's out that way?" Blayne asked. "That's the temple. See the big white building? The natives never come to this side of the river, by the way--the hunting's better over there." "Give me the glasses," Blayne whispered. Elliot handed the binoculars over and the fat man stared hungrily at the island. "See anything?"