s enjoying himself!
These battles with men and with animals, with death the penalty for any
mistake in tactics, were doing much to satisfy that deep love of
adventure which was so great a part of him.

The men crossed the arena's entire length, halting a few feet from the
eastern wall. Then they turned about and waited, watching silently the
wooden door of the distant arms-room.

They had not long to wait. Scarcely had they turned when that door
opened and three warriors, each with a bow and three arrows, came out.
They were clothed in white tunics, with legs and feet bare. All were
taller than the average Sepharian, with wide shoulders, narrow hips and
slender well-formed legs.

"Sephar's three finest bowmen," Katon murmured. "The tallest is Maltor,
at one time chief of archers under Jaltor, and probably the greatest man
with a bow in our history.

"I had forgotten the report that he would fight in the arena. Since he
enlisted in the Games only to display his bowmanship, he may withdraw at
any time. Watch him constantly, for he is our greatest danger."

He fell silent then, sudden lines of worry on his face. "Tharn, I
remember, now, that you know nothing of fighting with a bow. We must
work out some way of covering you."

* * * * *

The cave-man permitted himself a grim smile. "You are wrong," he said
quietly. "The bow and I are good friends. I will keep up my end of this
fight."

Katon was satisfied. "Good. Now if only we can outwit them....

"Let them shoot first. Watch the fingers of their right hands; when they
open on the arrow's haft, jump quickly aside, keeping an arrow ready in
your own bow. The moment you regain balance aim quickly and send your
first answer.

"Aim always for the belly. A man can shift his head and shoulders much
quicker than he can his middle. Besides, his belly is a broader mark.

"Ready now! They are getting close! Tharn--Maltor is for you.
Rotark--see what you can do with the man on his left. The other is mine.

"Ah! they have stopped. They still are too far away to risk a shot.
Being careful, I suppose; they had better be!

"Tharn! Thrust two of your arrows point first in the sand within reach.
Fit the other to your bow. Do the same, Rotark.

"Careful now! They are starting this way again! Maltor is no fool; he is
trying to coax us into wasting arrows."

Katon fell silent. His two friends, their bows half drawn, arrow points
held downward,