Kirk supposed they might as well. He climbed down, streaming blood from his torn wrist, with the girl scrambling beside him. The hackles were raised across her yellow shoulders. Piruts. Kirk thought about Pa and Russ and Frank being driven up that tongue of naked rock. Their own people had killed them, but the Piruts put them there in the first place. And there was Jakk. Besides.... They were Piruts. That was enough. Kirk felt numb inside. It might have been easier if the shags had got them, after all. The man who had called them was waiting, lounging back against a rock. He was no taller than Kirk, but he was a lot thicker and his hair was red. The bones of his face were heavy and brutal under his beard. His horny overlids were dropped so that only bright black slits showed of his eyes. He was smiling. It was a lazy, white-toothed, cheerful smile, but Kirk didn't like. It made his belly knot up. "What," said the Pirut, "the hell are you two kids doing out here?" "Hunting," said Kirk shortly. There were a lot of Piruts among the tumbled rocks. Four, five hands of them. The red Pirut had stopped looking at Kirk. He was looking at the Captain's yellow daughter. "Well," he said. "Well, well!" He took himself away from the rock and came toward them. He moved slowly, as though he might be sleepy. Kirk didn't like that, either. He said, "Let us go. We haven't anything to steal." The Pirut chuckled. "I'm not so sure about that." He was still looking at the yellow girl. "No," he said. "I'm not sure about that at all." He raised his hand and called the others in. Kirk knew he couldn't fight; he followed the leader. * * * * * It was a lot colder in the Pirut cave than it was back in the huts of the colony. Everybody kept close together for warmth, crowded around the scanty heat-stones. There was a moaning draft from somewhere that kept Kirk's hair stirring, and there were babies crying. Babies that didn't sound any different from the one at home. Kirk chewed up the last of his handful of pemmican, made of shag meat and sour berries, and was thankful for a full belly. The yellow girl crouched on the cold stone, not saying anything, her arms around her knees. The Pirut women watched her out of hostile eyes. Samel, the red Pirut who had turned out to be some sort of an Officer, watched her too, but his eyes were not hostile. "Close-mouthed piece, aren't you?" he said. He threw a scrap of bone at a wiry black girl huddled over the heat, and laughed. "Sada," he yelled, "get her to give you lessons, will you?" Everybody enjoyed that. Sada called him a name and turned her back. Samel's black eyes came back to the yellow girl. "You won't tell who you are. That means you're somebody. An Officer's daughter, likely. Maybe even the Captain's." Some flicker in the girl's eyes must have told him he'd hit home. He jumped up and shouted, "Hey! All of you, look here! We've got somebody--we've got the Captain's daughter!"