also saw thousands of birds feeding greedily on the dried seed of
the marsh grasses, paddling in the pools, and setting up a clamor to
drive a man mad. They did not seem in the least disturbed by that
distant camper.

Ross had reason to be proud of his marksmanship that morning. He had in
his quiver perhaps half a dozen of the lighter shafts made for shooting
birds. In place of the finely chipped and wickedly barbed flint points
used for heavier game, these were tipped with needle-sharp, light bone
heads. He had a string of four birds looped together by their feet
within almost as many minutes. For the flocks rose in their first alarm
only to settle again to feast.

Then he knocked over a hare--a fat giant of its race--that stared at him
brazenly from a tussock. The hare kicked back into a pool in its death
struggle, however, and Ross was forced to leave cover to retrieve its
body. But he was alert and he stood up, dagger out and ready, to greet
the man who parted the bushes to watch him.

For a long minute gray eyes stared into brown ones, and then Ross noted
the other's bedraggled and tattered dress. The kilt-tunic smudged with
mud, scorched and charred along one edge, was styled like his own. The
fellow wore his hair fastened back with a band, unlike the topknot of
the local tribesman.

Ross, his dagger still ready, broke the silence first. "I am a believer
in the fire and the fashioned metal, the climbing sun, and the moving
water." He repeated the recognition speech of the Beakermen.

"The fire warms by the grace of Tulden, the metal is fashioned by the
mystery of the smith, the sun climbs without our aid, and who can stop
the water from running?" The stranger's voice was hoarse. Now that Ross
had time to examine him more closely he saw the dark bruise on his
exposed shoulder, the raw red mark of a burn running across the man's
broad chest. He dared to test his surmise concerning the other.

"I am of the kin of Assha. We returned to the hill----"

"Ashe!"

Not "Assha" but "Ashe!" Ross, though sure of that pronunciation, was
still cautious. "You are from the hill place, where Lurgha smote with
thunder and fire?"

The man slid his long legs across the log which had been his shelter.
The burn across his chest was not his only brand, for Ross noticed
another red stripe, puffed and fiery looking, which swelled the calf of
one leg. The man studied Ross closely, and then his fingers moved in a
sign which to th