ntryside well below the
level he was now traversing.

The clak-claks were skimming back and forth, shrieking their staccato
war cries. Following the erratic dashes of their flight formation,
Shann decided that whatever they railed against was on the lower level,
out of his sight from that point. Should he simply withdraw, since the
disturbance was not near him? Prudence dictated that; yet still he
hesitated.

He had no desire to travel north, or to try and scale the mountains. No,
south was his best path, and he should be very sure that route was
closed before he retreated.

Since any additional fuss the clak-claks might make on sighting him
would be undistinguished in their now general clamor, the Terran crawled
on to where tall grass provided a screen at the top of the slope. There
he stopped short, his hands digging into the earth in sudden braking
action.

Below, the ground steamed from a rocket flare-back, grasses burned away
from the fins of a small scoutship. But even as Shann rose to one knee,
his shout of welcome choked in his throat. One of those fins sank,
canting the ship crookedly, preventing any new take-off. And over the
crown of a low hill to the west swung the ominous black plate of a Throg
flyer.

The Throg ship came up in a burst of speed, and Shann waited tensely for
some countermove from the scout. Those small speedy Terran ships were
prudently provided with weapons triply deadly in proportion to their
size. He was sure that the Terran ship could hold its own against the
Throg, even eliminate the enemy. But there was no fire from the slanting
pencil of the scout. The Throg circled warily, obviously expecting a
trap. Twice it darted back in the direction from which it had come. As
it returned from its second retreat, another of its kind showed, a black
coin dot against the amber of the sky.

Shann felt sick inside. Now the Terran scout had lost any advantage and
perhaps all hope. The Throgs could box the other in, cut the downed ship
to pieces with their energy beams. He wanted to crawl away and not
witness this last disaster for his kind. But some stubborn core of will
kept him where he was.

The Throgs began to circle while beneath them the flock of clak-claks
screamed and dived at the slanting nose of the Terran ship. Then that
same slashing energy he had watched quarter the camp snapped from the
far plate across the stricken scout. The man who had piloted her, if not
dead already (which