"Just natives," Blayne said. He handed back the glasses and Elliot looked at the little knots of mauve-skinned natives here and there on the island. "Don't they have any guards?" Elliot shook his head. "No. They stick to their belief that the Dragonbird will protect them from any invaders." "Good," Blayne said. "So much the simpler for us. When do we get moving?" Elliot glanced at the man at his side, saw the desire on Blayne's face, the greed of the hunter. "Don't be impatient," he said. "It's almost noon now. Keep your glasses trained on the temple. Unless they've changed the program, the Dragonbird will make an appearance at noon." The minutes ticked past slowly. Blayne kept glancing at his watch and looking eagerly out across the water toward the island. At the instant the second-hand of the watch brushed past the "12," there was a sudden boom, as of a huge kettledrum, and the sound reverberated hollowly out over the river. A group of natives, carrying a dark-hued animal the size of a small sheep, marched in orderly procession toward the temple. They laid the animal on an altar before the door. Another muffled boom followed. "Here it comes," Elliot murmured. The natives stepped back reverently, and the doors of the temple slowly swung outward. The Dragonbird appeared. Blayne's astonished gasp was so loud that Elliot looked around apprehensively. "It's _beautiful_," the fat man exclaimed. "More lovely than I'd ever dreamed." "It is," Elliot said grimly. He took the glasses from Blayne's trembling fingers and focused them on the island. The Dragonbird was walking with dignity across the little square before the altar. It stood almost the height of a man, half-bird, half-reptile, walking on powerful claws tipped with diamond-sharp, gleaming talons. The brilliant sunlight glinted off its metallic feathers, played over its shining plumage, lent brightness to the shimmering row of scales that covered its long, swan-like neck. "Give me back the glasses," Blayne said. He snatched them and stared. "My God, what a beauty! He'll make a perfect trophy!" "_Trophy?_" Elliot recoiled in amazement. "Trophy! I thought you were going to capture it." "Don't be a fool! How could we take a live bird the size of that one back through the jungle? We'd need a cage of chrome steel. No, I'm going to shoot it. We can take the head and skin back--that'll be enough." Elliot scowled, and felt sick. The Dragonbird--a trophy! The concept disgusted him. He looked away, toward the island. The Dragonbird had begun to feed on the small animal. It was ripping into it viciously with its talons and powerful beak. "It'll be easy," Blayne went on. "I'll put a bullet through the bird so as not to ruin it, and then we'll use ray guns on the natives to get rid of them." "You'll _what_?" "They'll never know what hit them. It's merciful that way. Lord, what a lovely creature that is!" Blayne raised his rifle and took careful aim.