Perhaps to flee this new admirer, Planter threw himself between the two fighters. As Mara attempted to stab Sala, Planter caught her weapon wrist and wrenched the knife from her. Meanwhile, Sala snatched up a crossbow. Leaving Mara, Planter struck the thing out of aiming line just in time. The pen-missile tore through the baskety wall of the Nest, and Planter gained possession of the crossbow, not without trouble. "Are you girls fighting over me?" he demanded. "Egad, what else?" challenged Mantha, who had also sprung forward. "Art a man of height and presence. For any man these my manless girls would contend." "Aye, would we," agreed one of the bevy, with frightening candor. "He's mine," snapped Mara, holding her own crossbow at the ready. "Step forth who will, and I speak true." "I'm nobody's," exploded Planter. "Anyway, I'm going--I've two friends near here that I've got to find, and soon!" "More men!" ejaculated Sala, forgetting her anger. "Fighters, with weapons," said Planter, ignoring her. "They'll help you smoke out these Skygors and set free your kinsmen." Happy cries greeted his words. "I'll guide you home, David Planter," offered Mara, and Mantha gestured approval. Mara and Planter left the Nest by a new jungle trail. Mara explained that these tunnels were made by great floundering beasts, and served as runways for smaller land life. The girl trod the green, fog-filled labyrinths with assurance. Within minutes they reached the pool where Disbro had landed the ship. At the edge floated the limp, dead thing that Mara had killed to save Planter. Small flutterers, like gross-winged flies but as large as gulls, swarmed to dig out morsels. Mara called the creature a krau, the flying scavengers ghrols. "Skygor words, for ugly beasts," she commented. "Neither is good for food." Planter picked his way from root to root toward the ship. "Disbro!" he called. "Max!" There was no answer. He scrambled up and inside, then out again. "Something's happened," he said gravely. Mara studied the massed logs that made a rough raft. "Skygor work. And eke the rope of wires about your ship." "They've been captured by Skygors? For slaves?" Planter had climbed down again. His hand sought the Skygor pistol at his belt, his face was tense and pale. "I'll get them back. Where's this swamp-city you mention?" She pointed. "Not far. But the way is perilous. The trails throng with Skygors, and there is the spell." "That sounds like some old superstition," snorted Planter. "I'm not afraid of Skygors. I killed two today." "Aye," she smiled. "They are not great fighters in these parts. But there are more than two at the city ... come along." "You can go back to the Nest." She smiled more broadly. "How else will you find the way, my David? For you _are_ my David." "Don't start that again," he bade her, more roughly than he felt. "Lead the way." * * * * *