e was a faint greenish glow. Then they moved away
to the woodland and made camp for the balance of the night.

So much of their whole exploit depended upon luck, and this small part
had been successful. Unless some agent had been stationed to watch for
their arrival Ross believed they could not be spotted.

The rest of their plan was elastic. Posing as traders who had come to
open a new station, they were to stay near a river which drained a lake
and then angled southward to the distant sea. They knew this section was
only sparsely settled by small tribes, hardly larger than family clans.
These people were generations behind the civilized level of the
villagers of Britain--roving hunters who followed the sweep of game
north or south with the seasons.

Along the seashore the fishermen had established more permanent holdings
which were slowly becoming towns. There were perhaps a few hardy pioneer
farmers on the southern fringes of the district, but the principle
reason traders came to this region was to get amber and furs. The Beaker
people dealt in both.

Now as the three sheltered under the wide branches of a towering pine
Ashe fumbled with a pack and brought out the "beaker" which was the
identifying mark of his adopted people. He measured into it a portion of
the sour, stimulating drink which the traders introduced wherever they
went. The cup passed from hand to hand, its taste unpleasant on the
tongue, but comfortingly warm to one's middle.

They took turns keeping the watch until the gray of false dawn became
the clearer light of morning. After breakfasting on flat cakes of meal,
they packed the donkeys, using the same knots and cross lashing which
were the mark of real Beaker traders. Their bows protected from dampness
under their cloaks, they set out to find the river and their path
southward.

Ashe led, Ross towed the donkeys, and McNeil brought up the rear. In the
absence of a path they had to set a ragged course, keeping to the edge
of the clearing until they saw the end of the lake.

"Woodsmoke," Ashe commented when they had completed two thirds of their
journey. Ross sniffed and was able to smell it too. Nodding to Ashe,
McNeil oozed into nothingness between the trees with an ease Murdock
envied. As they waited for him to return, Ross became conscious of
another life about them, one busy with its own concerns, which were in
no way those of human beings, except that food and perhaps shelter were
to be