ink-pot shadows at their base. The purple sky had
darkened until it was almost the color of soft, black velvet. Great
stars were blazing out.

Ouglat loomed large in the gathering twilight, a horrible misshapen ogre
of an outer world. He had grown taller, broader, greater. Mal Shaff's
head now was on a level with the other's chest; his huge arms seemed
toylike in comparison with those of Ouglat, his legs mere pipestems.

Time and time again he had barely escaped as the clutching hands of
Ouglat reached out to grasp him. Once within those hands he would be
torn apart.

The battle had become a game of hide and seek, a game of cat and mouse,
with Mal Shaff the mouse.

Slowly the sun sank and the world became darker. His brain working
feverishly, Mal Shaff waited for the darkness. Adroitly he worked the
battle nearer and nearer to the Stygian darkness that lay at the foot of
the mighty crags. In the darkness he might escape. He could no longer
continue this unequal fight. Only escape was left.

The sun was gone now. Blackness was dropping swiftly over the land, like
a great blanket, creating the illusion of the glowering sky descending
to the ground. Only a few feet away lay the total blackness under the
cliffs.

Like a flash Mal Shaff darted into the blackness, was completely
swallowed in it. Roaring, Ouglat followed.

His shoulders almost touching the great rock wall that shot straight up
hundreds of feet above him, Mal Shaff ran swiftly, fear lending speed to
his shivering legs. Behind him he heard the bellowing of his enemy.
Ouglat was searching for him, a hopeless search in that total darkness.
He would never find him. Mal Shaff felt sure.

Fagged and out of breath, he dropped panting at the foot of the wall.
Blood pounded through his head and his strength seemed to be gone. He
lay still and stared out into the less dark moor that stretched before
him.

For some time he lay there, resting. Aimlessly he looked out over the
moor, and then he suddenly noted, some distance to his right, a hill
rising from the moor. The hill was vaguely familiar. He remembered it
dimly as being of great importance.

A sudden inexplicable restlessness filled him. Far behind him he heard
the enraged bellowing of Ouglat, but that he scarcely noticed. So long
as darkness lay upon the land he knew he was safe from his enemy.

The hill had made him restless. He must reach the top. He could think of
no logical reason for doing so. Ob