In the camp itself, Jotan's bellowed commands were beginning to take effect on the disorganized warriors. Those still alive and unwounded managed to form a spear-bristling phalanx, standing shoulder to shoulder, while the blood-hungry cats moved slowly around them. Twice, a lion charged that square of flint spear-tips, only to fall back with roars of rage and bleeding from wounds. For a few minutes longer the beasts continued to circle warily about the men, now and then feinting charges in an effort to draw them into breaking ranks. But the warriors, heartened by the confident bearing of their leader, held fast in spite of the fearful nearness of distended jaws and gleaming fangs. At last, as though by some strange understanding, the lions began to withdraw, dragging with them some of the torn bodies of warriors who had died during the battle. Only the sharp commands of Jotan himself prevented the others from an attempt to save their fallen comrades from so horrible a fate--Jotan who was realist enough to know that any such foolhardy action--no matter how noble the purpose--could only result in further casualties. When at last the lions were gone, Jotan set about restoring the broken defenses of the camp. Fires were increased in number and size, scattered supplies and weapons were reassembled and the wounded cared for. Not until all this was done did Jotan learn of Dylara's disappearance. At first he was nearly frantic with worry, picturing her as being dragged away by one of the marauders. It was not until he questioned the wounded that the true story came out. "No, Sadu did not get her. Not in the camp anyway." The warrior, wincing from the pain of a long gash in one arm, pulled himself into a sitting position as he replied to Jotan's questions. "She was crouched down near the fires until one of the lions began to creep up on her. She wasted no time in doing something about that!" "What _did_ she do?" Jotan demanded impatiently. "The only thing she could have done: slipped through the fires and ran for the trees." The young Ammadian noble glanced toward the Stygian gloom of the distant jungle and a faint shudder coursed through him. "What a mad thing to do!" he said, half to himself. "I would rather face Sadu here in the light than plunge into those shadows." To the wounded man he said, "Did you see her reach the trees?" The other man shook his head. "My eyes are not that good. The lion chased her into the darkness and I lost sight of them both. She had a good start and she ran very swiftly." "Which way did she go?" The warrior waved an arm toward the south. Jotan picked four men who, carrying spears and torches, accompanied their leader in that direction. They reached the fringe of trees and jungle to the south of the camp, and walked among the tree boles, calling out the cave girl's name. But only the voices of disturbed bird life and the distant scream of a panther answered their cries.