aid about the Reds' planting someone
here to wait for us."

Ashe scratched the bristles on his chin. "Never underrate them--we don't
dare do that. But the man you met is McNeil, and we'd better get him
here. Can you bring him?"

"I think he's able to get about, in spite of that leg. From his story
he's been stirring around."

Ashe bit absent-mindedly into a piece of hare and swore mildly when he
burned his tongue. "Odd that Cassca didn't tell us about him. Unless she
thought there was no use causing trouble by admitting they had driven
him away. You going now?"

Ross moved around the fire. "Might as well. He didn't look too
comfortable. And I'll bet he's hungry."

He took the direct route back to the marsh, but this time no thread of
smoke spiraled into the air. Ross hesitated. That shelter on the small
island was surely the place where McNeil had holed up. Should he try to
work his way out to it now? Or had something happened to the man while
he was gone?

Again that sixth sense of impending disaster, which is perhaps bred into
some men, alerted Ross. Why he turned suddenly and backed against a
bushy willow, he could not have explained. However, because he did so
the loop of hide rope meant for his throat hit his shoulder harmlessly.
It fell to the ground, and he stamped one boot down on it. Then it was
the work of seconds to grasp it and give it a quick jerk. The surprised
man who held the other end was brought sprawling into the open.

Ross had seen that round face before. "Lal of the town of Nodren." He
found words to greet the ropeman even as his knee came up against the
fellow's jaw, jarring Lal so that he dropped a flint knife. Ross kicked
it into the willows. "What do you hunt here, Lal?"

"Traders!" The voice was weak, but it held heat.

The tribesman did not try to struggle against Ross's hold, and Ross,
gripping him by the nape of the neck, moved through a screen of brush to
a hollow. Luckily there was no water cupped there, for McNeil lay in the
bottom of that dip, his arms tied tightly behind him and his ankles
lashed together with no thought for the pain of his burned leg.

CHAPTER 7

Ross whirled the rope which had been meant to bring him down around Lal.
He lashed the tribesman's arms tight to his body before he knelt to cut
loose his fellow time traveler. Lal now huddled against the far wall of
the cup, fear in every line of his small body. So apparent was this fear
that Ross felt