As the sound came louder, a man in the village suddenly went down on his knees, then another and another, until the whole group, including Gotch, were kneeling. Even Mercedes went to her knees in response to deep internal, superstitious pressures. Only Retch and Parker stood erect as two men strong enough to face the sound coming from the night. "Get down, you fools!" Peg-leg's voice had real anguish in it. "Get down, hell!" Retch answered. He had a gun in each hand, his own and the one he had taken from Parker. "Beel! Beel!" Mercedes was jerking at Parker's leg. "What is 'appening?" "Something," Parker answered. "I don't know what." There was fear in him. He could feel it in his heart, sense it in his bones, taste in his mouth. He rose above it. The sound swept through the air. It came out over the trees above them. On the ground, the kneelers moaned in response. The harping sound leaped up, became a melody of weird notes filling the night air. Mingled with the eerie music were the moans from the prostrate humans. Looking upward, Parker caught a glimpse of something moving through the sky. It blotted out the light of the stars and it looked a lot like a bird but like no bird he had ever seen before. It was too big to be any bird that had ever flown through Earth's air, but yet it flew. As it flew, it made the sound of a gigantic harp. * * * * * The bird passed over the village, moving along the cliff. As it slid into the distance, the harp music faded slowly away, became again the sound of a sleepy bird. Around the village, the prostrate humans moaned, stirred, began to rise. "What the hell was that thing?" Parker gasped. "The damned fools call it the Jezbro!" Retch snarled. "The yellow cowards are afraid of it. I don't know what it is." Parker was silent. To him, Retch sounded like a man scared right down to the soles of his shoes but desperately trying to pretend he wasn't. "It was a warning sent by them," Peg-leg whispered, gesturing up toward the cliff in the darkness. "A warning to us to mend our ways." "It was no such thing!" Retch shouted. Peg-leg did not argue. He got slowly and silently to his feet. The group was silent, perturbed, and afraid. Even Gotch was silent. Whatever had passed overhead, had cast a pall of fear over them. "You bilious, yellow-livered cowards!" Retch raged at them. They made no response. The fear the Jezbro had inspired in them seemed to have made even his anger unimportant. "But what is the Jezbro?" Parker questioned again. "I mean--" "I told you it's nothing and that's enough of an answer. Hey!" The guns that Retch held came up sharply as another figure came soundlessly out of the forest and moved toward them. An old, bent, wrinkled Indian who hobbled along with the aid of a staff. "Oh, it's you, Pedro!" Retch said. "What the hell do you want?" For all the sign he gave, the Indian, Pedro, did not hear Retch's question. He hobbled straight to Parker.