oving face down.

Ennar whooped, a cry combining defiance and despair in one. He reined up
with violence enough to set his horse rearing. Then, dropping his hold
on the leading rope of Ross's mount, he whirled and set off in a wild
dash for the trees to the left. A spear lanced across Ross's shoulder,
ripping at the blue fabric, but his horse whirled to follow the other,
taking him out of danger of a second thrust. Having lost his
opportunity, the man who had wielded the spear dashed by at Ennar's
back.

Ross clung to the mane with both hands. His greatest fear was that he
might slip from the saddle pad and since he was tied by his feet, lie
unprotected and helpless under those dashing hoofs. Somehow he managed
to cling to the horse's neck, his face lashed by the rough mane while
the animal pounded on. Had Ross been able to grasp the dangling nose
rope, he might have had a faint chance of controlling that run, but as
it was he could only hold fast and hope.

He had only broken glimpses of what lay ahead. Then a brilliant fire, as
vivid as the flames which had eaten up the Red village, burst from the
ground a few yards ahead, sending the horse wild. There was more fire
and the horse changed course through the rising smoke. Ross realized
that the aliens were trying to cut him off from the thin safety of the
woodlands. Why they didn't just shoot him as they had Foscar he could
not understand.

The smoke of the burning grass was thick, cutting between him and the
woods. Might it also provide a curtain behind which he could hope to
escape both parties? The fire was sending the horse back toward the
waiting ship people. Ross could hear a confused shouting in the smoke.
Then his mount made a miscalculation, and a tongue of red licked too
close. The animal screamed, dashing on blindly straight between two of
the blazes and away from the blue-clad men.

Ross coughed, almost choking, his eyes watering as the stench of singed
hair thickened the smoke. But he had been carried out of the fire circle
and was shooting back into the meadowland. Mount and unwilling rider
were well away from the upper end of that cleared space when another
horse cut in from the left, matching speed to the uncontrolled animal to
which Ross clung. It was one of the tribesmen riding easily.

The trick worked, for the wild race slowed to a gallop and the other
rider, in a feat of horsemanship at which Ross marveled, leaned from his
seat to catch the d