lently
circling the camp until he found a good-sized knoll with smooth sides.
Working by touch he pulled the little pegs from their bag and planted
them in rows, carefully laying the leather strings in their forked
tops. The ends of the strings were fastened to delicately balanced
steel bells that tinkled at the slightest touch. Thus protected he lay
down in the center of his warning spiderweb and spent a restless
night, half awake, waiting tensely for the bells to ring.

* * * * *

In the morning the march continued and they came to the barrier cairn,
and when the slaves stopped Jason urged them past it. They did this
happily, looking forward to witnessing a good fight for possession of
the violated territory. Their hopes were justified when later in the
day the other row of slaves was seen far off to the right, and a
figure detached itself and ran towards them.

"Hate you, Ch'aka!" Fasimba shouted as he ran up, only this time he
meant what he said. "Coming on my ground, I kill you!"

"Not yet," Jason called out. "And hate you, Fasimba, sorry I forgot
the formalities. I don't want any of your land and the old treaty or
whatever it is still holds. I just want to talk to you."

Fasimba stopped, but kept his stone hammer ready, very suspicious.
"You got new voice, Ch'aka."

"I got new Ch'aka, old Ch'aka now pushing up the daisies. I want to
trade back a slave from you and then we'll go."

"Ch'aka fight hard. You must be good fighter Ch'aka." He shook his
hammer angrily. "Not as good as me, Ch'aka!"

"You're the tops, Fasimba, nine slaves out of ten want you for a
master. Look, can't we get to the point, then I'll get my mob out of
here." He looked at the row of approaching slaves, trying to pick out
Mikah. "I want back the slave who had the hole in his head. I'll give
you two slaves in trade, your choice. What do you say to that?"

"Good trade, Ch'aka. You pick one of mine, take the best, I'll take
two of yours. But hole-in-head gone. Too much trouble. Talk all the
time. I got sore foot from kicking him. Got rid of him."

"Did you kill him?"

"Don't waste slave. Traded him to the D'zertanoj. Got arrows. You want
arrows?"

"Not this time, Fasimba, but thanks for the information." He rooted
around in a pouch and pulled out a _krenoj_. "Here, have something to
eat."

"Where you get poisoned _krenoj_?" Fasimba asked with interest. "I
could use a poisoned _krenoj_."

"This isn'