ming down the hall. Ross's shoulder hit the newcomer at
thigh level, and they tangled in a struggling mass which saved Ross's
life as the others burst out behind them.

Ross fought grimly, his hands and feet moving in blows he was not
conscious of planning. His opponent was no easy match and at last Ross
was flattened, in spite of his desperate efforts. He was whirled over,
his arms jerked behind him, and cold metal rings snapped about his
wrists. Then he was rolled back, to lie blinking up at his enemies.

All three men gathered over him, barking questions which he could not
understand. One of them disappeared and returned with Ross's former
captive, his mouth a straight line and a light in his eyes Ross
understood far better than words.

"You are the trader prisoner?" The man who looked like Assha leaned over
Murdock, patches of red on his tanned skin where the gag and wrist bonds
had been.

"I am Rossa, son of Gurdi, of the traders," Ross returned, meeting what
he read in the other's expression with a ready defiance. "I was a
prisoner, yes. But you did not keep me one for long then, nor shall you
now."

The man's thin upper lip lifted. "You have done yourself ill, my young
friend. We have a better prison here for you, one from which you shall
not escape."

He spoke to the other men, and there was the ring of an order in his
voice. They pulled Ross to his feet, pushing him ahead of them. During
the short march Ross used his eyes, noticing things he could not
identify in the rooms through which they passed. Men called questions
and at last they paused long enough, Ross firmly in the hold of the
fur-clad guard, for the other two to put on similar garments.

Ross had lost his cloak in the fight, but no fur shirt was given him. He
shivered more and more as the chill which clung to that warren of rooms
and halls bit into his half-clad body. He was certain of only one thing
about this place; he could not possibly be in the crude buildings of the
valley village. However, he was unable to guess where he was and how he
had come there.

Finally, they went down a narrow room filled with bulky metal objects of
bright scarlet or violet that gleamed weirdly and were equipped with
rods along which all the colors of the rainbow ringed. Here was a round
door, and when one of the guards used both hands to tug it open, the
cold that swept in at them was a frigid breath that burned as it touched
bare skin.

CHAPTER 11