"But now we can do nothing. Four of them are watching our every move through chinks in these walls; our first move toward escape would bring them upon us." Trakor's eyes roved about the hut's sides. He could see no signs of gleaming eyes peering in on them, but long ago he had learned never to doubt Tharn's ability to know things beyond the evident. His voice went down. "Can they hear us?" "Of course," Tharn said. "But that does not mean they can understand us. We do not speak their tongue, so we need not worry of being overheard." "But what can we _do_?" Trakor demanded for the second time. "At present, nothing. There is a way for us to escape but it depends on them leaving us here until Dyta finds his lair for the night." "And if they don't leave us here until dark?" Tharn's smile appeared again. "Would you cheat them of their pleasure by worrying yourself to death?" * * * * * Trakor digested that in silence, seeing the wisdom in his friend's quiet words. He found his fear lessening fast; there was something in Tharn's calm acceptance of their present difficulty that inspired confidence in their eventual escape. With the waning of his own fear he found room for concern about someone else. "Tharn!" he gasped. "Are these the ones who captured Dylara?" A somber expression crept into the cave lord's eyes. "I am sure of it." "Do you think that they have ... that they...." He could not finish. "After we get away," Tharn said grimly, "I will learn the answer to that. She may be held in another hut at this moment; but if they have slain her...." The rest of the morning and the long afternoon which followed wore on. None of their captors entered the hut to learn how they were faring, although not once were they unobserved from without. During the heat of midday the sound of shrill voices stilled; but along toward evening it started up again. Tharn's position was such that he could see through the small aperture which served at the hut's doorway. As a result he was able to see a horde of the spider-men begin the construction of a good sized platform of small branches in a neighboring tree. At first their purpose was not clear to him; but when, shortly before darkness set in, he saw two tall straight branches denuded of vegetation thrust upright, side by side, into the platform, he understood something of what they had in mind. This understanding became certainty a little later when he noticed a score of the female members of the tribe busy at the task of putting sharp points on many long straight sticks, using flint knives for that purpose.