ng
which had been repeating itself in his mind faded, and somehow he
caught the menace in the new words Tau was mouthing.

Twice the medic shuffled about a circle of his own making. Then he
stooped, took a hunting knife from the belt of the nearest Khatkan and
held it point out toward the dark east. Dane would not have believed the
medic knew the drill he now displayed, for with no opponent save the
dancing firelight he fought a knife duel, feinting, striking, twisting,
retreating, attacking, all in time to the beat of the drum Dane was no
longer conscious of playing. And as he strove it was very easy to
picture another fighting against him. So that when the knife came up in
a vicious thrust which was the finish of his last attack, Dane stared
stupidly at the ground, half expecting to see a body lying there.

Once more Tau ceremoniously saluted with his blade to the east. Then he
laid it on the ground and stood astride its gleaming length.

"Lumbrilo!" His confident voice arose above the call of the drum.
"Lumbrilo--I am waiting."

VIII

Vaguely aware that the clamor at the other end of the camp had died
away, Dane muted the sound of his drum. Over its round top he could
watch the Khatkan outlaws; their heads bobbed and swayed in time to the
beat of his fingers. He, too, could feel the pull of Tau's voice. But
what would come in answer? That shadowy thing which had been loosed to
drive them here? Or the man himself?

To Dane, the ruddy light of the fire dimmed, yet there was no actual
dying of those flames which coiled and thrust around the wood. And the
acrid scent of burning was thick. How much of what followed was real,
how much the product of his tense nerves, Dane was never afterwards able
to tell. In fact, whether all the witnesses there saw the same sights
could be questioned. Did each man, Khatkan and off-worlder, see only
what his particular set of emotions and memories dictated?

Something swept in from the east, something which was not as tangible as
the creature born of swamp mist. Rather it came as an unseen menace to
the fire, and all that fire signifies to human kind--security,
comradeship, a weapon against the age-old forces of the dangerous night.
Was that threat, too, only in their minds? Or had Lumbrilo some power to
so shape his hatred?

The unseen was cold; it sapped a man's strength, bit at his brain,
weighted his hands and feet, weakened him. It strove to soften him into
clay ano