e men signified that they understood, and Ekbar, Otar and a warrior
named Kopan set out to take up their arranged positions. Hardly were
they ready when a low moaning sound rose from among the bushes across
the clearing and the foliage there began to shake violently.

Instantly the five guards grouped behind that section of the burning
circle nearest the disturbance. They raised their spears ready for
casting and one of the five hurled a burning branch across the narrow
ribbon of open ground.

"Now!" Ekbar grated.

* * * * *

Stooping, the three men raced for the encampment. They cleared the
burning barrier at a bound, snatched up the nearest of the sleeping
figures, muffling his face with his own sleeping furs before he could
awaken, then turned and vanished into the jungle. So quickly had they
acted, so swift and sure their motions, that none of the other sleepers
so much as stirred and the guards never noticed.

The instant the abductors had disappeared the moans stopped and the
shaking foliage stilled. For a long time the guards continued to stand
there waiting, but when no other disturbance materialized they sighed
with relief and went back to the restless patrolling.

Meanwhile Ekbar and his men were returning to their own camp, their
captive with them. They drew him into a sheltered place under the
trees, lighted a small fire that his expression might tell them if he
answered their questions with lies and went to work on him.

He was a young man, clear-eyed, intelligent and not at all frightened.
He stared at his captors without recognition, obviously puzzled to find
they were men of his own nationality.

"What is your name?" rasped Ekbar, scowling menacingly.

"Tykol--if that helps you any! What is the meaning of this? Who are
you?"

"I will ask the questions here!" Ekbar snapped. "And you will answer
them if you wish to see Dyta, the sun, again! Do you understand?"

"I understand well enough, but that does not mean I will tell you
anything!"

Without the slightest change of expression Ekbar whipped out the knife
at his belt and sank three inches of the cold flint into one of the
man's thighs. Tykol cried out involuntarily and struggled to free his
arms from the vines binding them to his sides.

Ekbar waited until his struggles ceased. A small stream of blood welled
from the knife wound and began to drip against the leaves beneath.

"What," said Ekbar, "are the nam