k, armed with the star guns, would spearhead that
attack--cutting into the substance of the ship itself until it was a
sieve through which they could shake out the enemy. Only when the
installations it contained were destroyed, might the Apaches hope for
any assistance from the Mongols, either the outlaw pack waiting well
back on the prairie or the people in the yurts.

The grass rippled and Naginlta poked out a nose, parting stems before
Travis. The Apache beamed an order, sending the coyotes with the
horse-raiding party. He had seen how the animals could drive hunted
split-horns; they would do as well with the ponies.

Kaydessa was safe, the coyotes had made that clear by the fact that they
had joined the attacking party an hour earlier. With Eskelta and
Manulito she was on her way back to the north.

Travis supposed he should be well pleased that their reckless plan had
succeeded as well as it had. But when he thought of the Tatar girl, all
he could see was her convulsed face close to his in the ship corridor,
her raking nails raised to tear his cheek. She had an excellent reason
to hate him, yet he hoped....

They continued to watch both horse herd and domes. There were people
moving about the yurts, but no signs of life at the ship. Had the Reds
shut themselves in there, warned in some way of the two disasters which
had whittled down their forces?

"Ah--!" Nolan breathed.

One of the ponies had raised its head and was facing the direction of
the camp, suspicion plain to read in its stance. The Apaches must have
reached the point between the herd and the domes which had been their
goal. And the Mongol guard, who had been sitting cross-legged, the
reins of his mount dangling close to his hand, got to his feet.

"Ahhhuuuuu!" The ancient Apache war cry that had sounded across deserts,
canyons, and southwestern Terran plains to ice the blood, ripped just as
freezingly through the honey-hued air of Topaz.

The horses wheeled, racing upslope away from the settlement. A figure
broke from the grass, flapped his arms at one of the mounts, grabbed at
flying mane, and pulled himself up on the bare back. Only a master
horseman would have done that, but the whooping rider now drove the herd
on, assisted by the snapping and snarling coyotes.

"Deklay--" Jil-Lee identified the reckless rider, "that was one of his
rodeo tricks."

Among the yurts it was as if someone had ripped up a rotten log to
reveal an ants' nest and