In one leap, he was at Sipar's side. He reached down and grasped the native by an arm, jerked it erect, held it on its feet. Sipar's eyes snapped open, blinking in the firelight. The rumble had grown to a roar and there were thumping noises, as of heavy boulders bouncing, and beneath the roar the silky, ominous rustle of sliding soil and rock. Sipar jerked its arm free of Duncan's grip and plunged into the darkness. Duncan whirled and followed. They ran, stumbling in the dark, and behind them the roar of the sliding, bouncing rock became a throaty roll of thunder that filled the night from brim to brim. As he ran, Duncan could feel, in dread anticipation, the gusty breath of hurtling debris blowing on his neck, the crushing impact of a boulder smashing into him, the engulfing flood of tumbling talus snatching at his legs. A puff of billowing dust came out and caught them and they ran choking as well as stumbling. Off to the left of them, a mighty chunk of rock chugged along the ground in jerky, almost reluctant fashion. Then the thunder stopped and all one could hear was the small slitherings of the lesser debris as it trickled down the slope. Duncan stopped running and slowly turned around. The campfire was gone, buried, no doubt, beneath tons of overlay, and the stars had paled because of the great cloud of dust which still billowed up into the sky. He heard Sipar moving near him and reached out a hand, searching for the tracker, not knowing exactly where it was. He found the native, grasped it by the shoulder and pulled it up beside him. Sipar was shivering. "It's all right," said Duncan. And it _was_ all right, he reassured himself. He still had the rifle. The extra drum of ammunition and the knife were on his belt, the bag of rockahominy in his pocket. The canteens were all they had lost--the canteens and the fire. "We'll have to hole up somewhere for the night," Duncan said. "There are screamers on the loose." * * * * * He didn't like what he was thinking, nor the sharp edge of fear that was beginning to crowd in upon him. He tried to shrug it off, but it still stayed with him, just out of reach. Sipar plucked at his elbow. "Thorn thicket, mister. Over there. We could crawl inside. We would be safe from screamers." It was torture, but they made it. "Screamers and you are taboo," said Duncan, suddenly remembering. "How come you are afraid of them?" "Afraid for you, mister, mostly. Afraid for myself just a little. Screamers could forget. They might not recognize me until too late. Safer here." "I agree with you," said Duncan. The screamers came and padded all about the thicket. The beasts sniffed and clawed at the thorns to reach them, but finally went away.