He drank again and regained strength enough to crawl to where his shipmates lay. It was some time before he was interested in much besides the fact that he could drink when he wished. Then he watched Jellico waver to his feet, his head turned eastward. Tau, too, sat up as if alerted by the _Queen's_ alarm buzzer. The Khatkans were gone, perhaps back to the water tree. But all three of the spacemen heard that sound, a far off throbbing rhythm which was a vibration as well. Jellico looked to Tau. "Drums?" "Could be." The medic screwed the cap back on his canteen. "I'd say we have company--only I'd like to know what kind!" They might have been mistaken about the drums, but none of them could have been mistaken about the bolt which came out of nowhere to slice through a tree trunk as a knife might slash wet clay. Blaster--and a particular type of blaster! "Patrol issue!" Tau lay flat, squeezing himself against the earth as if he wished he could ooze into it. Jellico wriggled toward the bush in answer to a low call from Asaki, and the others made a worm's progress in his wake. Under cover they found the Chief Ranger readying his needler. "Poacher camp here," he explained bleakly. "And they know about us." "A perfect end to a stinking day," remarked Tau dispassionately. "We might have guessed something of this sort was waiting." He tried to rub away some of the dried clay coating his chin. "But do poachers use drums?" The Chief Ranger scowled. "That is what Nymani has gone to find out." VII Darkness closed in while they waited for Nymani's return. There had been no further attack from the blaster wielder; perhaps he was only trying to pin them down where they were. Out over the swamp, weird patches of phosphorescence moved in small ghostly clouds, and bright dots of insects with their own built-in lighting systems flashed spark-fashion or sailed serenely on regular flight plans. At night the wonder of the place was far removed from the squalid reality of the day. They chewed on their rations, drank sparingly of the water, and tried to keep alert to any sight or sound. That monotonous undertone, which might or might not be drums, continued as a basic hum to the noises of the night, drowned out at intervals by a splash, a mutter or cry from some swamp creature. Beside Dane, Jellico stiffened, moved his blaster, as someone wriggled through the brush, trilling softly. "Off-worlders," Nymani reported in gasps to Asaki, "and outlaws, too. They make a hunting sing--tomorrow they march for a killing." Asaki rested his chin on his broad forearm. "Outlaws?" "They show no lord's badge. But each I saw wears a bracelet of three, five, or ten tails. They are Trackers indeed, and Hunters of the best!" "They have huts?" "Not so. There are no dwellers in the inners courts here." Out of habit Nymani used the polite term for the women of his race. "I would say they tarry only for the space of a hunt. And on the boots of one I saw salt crust."