"The mountain will rejoice with you," I repeated. "The sky will cease to be red. The ground will cease to tremble." I left him then. I left him and hugged the shadows, moving stealthily from hut to hut. Into thirty huts I crept and roused the sleeping warriors with the same hypnotic dazzlement. And to each I whispered the same words, and imposed upon them the same urgent post-hypnotic command. It is always unwise to take pride in a difficult task accomplished with ease until the last obstacle has been overcome, the last hurdle surmounted. I almost did--until I walked through the high-arching entrance of the thirty-first hut, and found myself confronting a warrior wide awake and on his feet. "I have been awaiting your coming," Geipgos' son said. Our Earth heritage is rich in legends. The great poets, the myth-makers, have all paid homage to the shining strength, the courage and daring which sets a king's son apart from ordinary mortals. _And the king's son came in his wrath and smote them. Terrible was he in battle, shod in fire and fury, rallying the vanquished with his might._ I had never believed it. But I was startled and must have shown it, for into Slagoon's eyes came a look of mocking triumph. "Gru Huhu Frum," he said. "I followed you when you left the village. I watched you making magic on the hill." "It was not magic, son of Geipgos," I said. "I was talking to the mountain. Would you doubt the word of a guest?" "I would doubt the word of a guest who does not speak the truth." There was no need for further speech between us. I measured him with my eyes, the length and breadth and thickness of him. He had kept himself in fine physical trim, despite the demon of hunger which must have dogged his footsteps night and day. A lean panther is more dangerous than a well-fed one; a man with gaunt cheeks and protruding ribs a treacherous adversary if his muscles have retained their resiliency, and the will to wrestle and slay is strong in him. He had five hands to my two. He was armed and I was weaponless and his weapon was a cruel one, a curving blade with a bone handle, ground to a deadly sharpness. When you're girding for a life-and-death struggle it's best to whittle your adversary down to size. I told myself that I was a civilized man with a resolution he could never hope to match. He would fight like a savage, granted. But I was sure that two hands guided by a trained intelligence could grip and hold, twist and bend twice as well as five hands animated by a blind urge to kill. I squared my shoulders and started walking straight toward him. I was encouraged by the way he returned my stare, as if the look of confidence in my eyes had planted a sudden, disturbing doubt in his mind. It was enough to assure me that if I kept my head and closed in relentlessly my chances would be good.