He drew an ornate dagger from his belt-harness as he spoke. Catching the sun in its jewels, he flashed a beam into the eyes of one of the creatures. It was as if it were a signal. A roar like that of a maddened bull burst from the djevoda's great throat. Tiger-fast, avalanchal, it lunged up the slope of the knoll, straight for the stockade. The logs rocked under the impact of its hurtling body. A great tusk tore through a crack, bare inches from Craig's arm. The Earthman leaped back, cursing. His bronzed friend laughed again. "A wonderful creature, the djevoda. Tons of solid meat, ready for the slicing. But definitely not to be domesticated." "So I see," Craig agreed, a trifle sourly. "They charge movement on sight," his guide went on. "Killing them, save from directly above, takes a deal of doing. So, they roam these southern plains by hundreds. That's why this range was never settled, till Tumek gave the flying disc to the Baemae. But overhead, we're safe from them. We can herd them with our whips like cattle, or kill them at will with a bolt at the base of the brain. They feed us, clothe us, protect us, give us freedom...." He broke off. "But I talk too much of our own affairs. Tell me, how did you escape--and what of Tumek?" Craig said, "Tumek ... is dead." The laughter left the bronzed man's face. "Tumek dead--!" He cursed aloud. "How did it happen?" Briefly, Craig told him ... showed him the crystal ... mentioned the ourobos. Only one thing did he leave out. Narla. He didn't know why. It made no sense, even to him. Yet somehow, he could not bring himself to reveal her lineage ... tell how she came to be here, put her forward in the role of hostage. * * * * * Bukal was frowning when Craig finished. "There's too much here I don't understand," he grunted. "Ourobos are not of Lysor, but of our sister-planet, Xumar--a loathsome, crawling horror beyond man's controlling. Innoculations with a rare oil will repel them, but no one has ever found a way to kill them. If Zenaor were mad enough to bring them here, to Lysor...." He shuddered and left his sentence hanging. "And the crystal--?" Craig displayed it. Again, the other shook his head. "For all I know, it might as well be nothing but a lamp-lens." He straightened, thin-lipped. "But at least we'll make our masters pay for Tumek! This very night!" Pivoting as he spoke, he strode back towards the waiting discmen. "These two"--he gestured to Craig and Narla--"they are accepted. Take them to the village." Only then did it dawn on Craig that the Baemae had asked not a question about the girl. But there was little time for pondering on that. The men spun their discs; helped Earthman and girl to board them. The ground, the stockade, fell away. Then the hills, too, lay behind, and they were gliding down beyond the palisade, into the village.