From the tail of his eye, Janess saw the Sardanian snatch the baby from the perilous path and leap to one side. Behind them the red captain, shouting and cursing, alone of all the troop of riders strove to urge his affrighted horse forward. "Hold! Hold!" he shouted in English. "Let the beast go!" * * * * * Even had he heard, Polaris would have been little minded to let the bull go free. It was plain that the animal was mad. A bloody froth dripped from its jaws as it ran. Behind the son of the snows, right where the bull was headed, were his friends, and among them one who meant more to him than all of the rest of the world. Directly in the path of the lowered horns, that were coming on with the power of a mighty battering-ram, Polaris stood. Then he sprang sidewise, turning as he leaped. So narrowly did he time the onset that the shoulder of the bull grazed his knee. As the huge body passed him, the man drove the short spear home behind its shoulder, guiding the steel with the strength of arm and the keenness of eye that had helped him to survive through the long years when combat with the beasts of the wild was a part almost of his daily existence. The stroke was true. So deeply did the steel spear bite, that its shaft was wrenched from the hands of Polaris, and he was pitched on his side on the pavement. Unhurt, the man was up in an instant, but his work was done. That bull would charge no more. He lay dead at the side of the roadway, his tongue thrust out, his eyes glazing, and his life-blood making a pool on the stones. The Maeronican spear was set fast in his heart. Hardly was Polaris on his feet again when the armored horsemen rode down on him with lifted spears, cursing him in their own tongue. Oleric had conquered his horse, and he now interposed to prevent another struggle which would have been all too one-sided. For, weaponless as they were, the three other American men clambered down and ran to the aid of Polaris. Minos, who had returned the child to her mother, who knelt half fainting in her gateway, was the first to reach his side. Though he bore no weapon, the giant Sardanian squared his mighty figure and made ready to withstand the onset of horse and steel. Polaris leaped to the side of the fallen bull and tore the spear from its body. Then he turned on the horsemen. He could not guess the cause of their sudden anger, but he, too, was ready. Before blows could be struck, Oleric thrust his horse into the open space between the friends and the Maeronican riders. By dint of persuasion, interlarded with not a few threats, he induced his followers to forego their hostile intentions. "You fools!" he shouted. "Would you cheat Bel-Ar of the terrible vengeance he is sure to take, and have a part of it fall back on you for balking him?" When he had quieted his men, the captain turned gloomily to Polaris.