d in while they waited for Nymani's return. There had been
no further attack from the blaster wielder; perhaps he was only trying
to pin them down where they were. Out over the swamp, weird patches of
phosphorescence moved in small ghostly clouds, and bright dots of
insects with their own built-in lighting systems flashed spark-fashion
or sailed serenely on regular flight plans. At night the wonder of the
place was far removed from the squalid reality of the day. They chewed
on their rations, drank sparingly of the water, and tried to keep alert
to any sight or sound.

That monotonous undertone, which might or might not be drums, continued
as a basic hum to the noises of the night, drowned out at intervals by a
splash, a mutter or cry from some swamp creature. Beside Dane, Jellico
stiffened, moved his blaster, as someone wriggled through the brush,
trilling softly.

"Off-worlders," Nymani reported in gasps to Asaki, "and outlaws, too.
They make a hunting sing--tomorrow they march for a killing."

Asaki rested his chin on his broad forearm. "Outlaws?"

"They show no lord's badge. But each I saw wears a bracelet of three,
five, or ten tails. They are Trackers indeed, and Hunters of the best!"

"They have huts?"

"Not so. There are no dwellers in the inners courts here." Out of habit
Nymani used the polite term for the women of his race. "I would say they
tarry only for the space of a hunt. And on the boots of one I saw salt
crust."

"Salt crust!" Asaki snapped and half arose. "So that is the type of lure
they use. There must be a saline mire near here to pull game--"

"How many off-worlders?" Jellico broke in.

"Three who are Hunters, one who is different."

"How different?" questioned Asaki.

"He wears upon his body garments which are strange; on his head a round
covering such as we see upon the off-worlders of the ships--"

"A spaceman!"

Asaki laughed harshly. "Why not? They must have some method of
transporting their hides."

"You can't tell me," Jellico returned, "that anyone is able to set a
ship down in this muck. It would simply be buried for all time."

"But, Captain, what type of a spaceport does a Free Trader need? Do you
not planet your own ship on worlds where there are no waiting cradles,
no fitter shops, none of the conveniences such as mark the field Combine
maintains on Xecho?"

"Of course I do. But one does need a reasonably smooth stretch of
territory, open enough so the tail flames